However, he was able to visit the farm in theĮarly phase of construction just after we acquired the Sadly, he never got to see Rod’s completed masterpiece. Young people and as Big Rod’s emphysema made it difficult for him to getĪround, he stopped coming to Raquette and stayed in Florida. As his health, particularly his breathing,īecame compromised he withdrew from those social activities, preferring to remain at camp.

Rod’s dad played golf twice a week in Thendara and Inlet. Now that both Windy and Spy are gone, I like to imagine them together, watching over Moose River Farm from Heaven above. Therefore, I would like to share them here where I hope you will see them as images of hope rather than images of death.įor me they are proof that horses possess a soul and an uncanny ability to accept loss. The photographs were never published with the article. Four years later, after Windy's euthanasia, I wrote an article, ( Grief, Acceptance and Appreciation, Practical Horseman, June, 2011), about what I, (along with several others), witnessed on the day when these two bonded souls parted. I was so touched by Windy's reaction to Spy's death, that I decided to preserve the images with photographs. Perhaps that is why the 18 year relationship between my two Quarter horses, Windy and Spy, ended with such an extraordinary display of devotion and acceptance. When you consider how human lives and circumstances change unexpectedly in that amount of time, it is more common for a horse to have more than one owner rather than one home in its lifetime. One of the consequences of owning horses is that they live very long lives in relation to more typical pets such as dogs and cats on average about 30 years. Leading the horses on foot, we campers were kept in great physical shape. Was at the bottom of the mountain and required three trips a day up and back Riding fields and outside hunt course to the quaint waterfront required several Top of a mountain with breathtaking views that I have never forgotten The camp was tastefully sprawled out on the Their camp had a wonderful reputation for real competitive riding. Their oldest daughter was an up and coming three day event rider and Husband and wife who spent most of the year teaching at the George School Pennsylvania, just south of Binghamton, New York. Spent many summers of her childhood at Girl Scout camp, sent me to a ridingĬamp in the Endless Mountain region of New Milford , Horse Camp The following summer, my mother, who had In today's excerpt from Finding My Way to Moose River Farm, I thrive as a 'Horseman' at Camp Equinita. I love MRF's association with camp because it brings back so many wonderful memories, (and heartbreaking ones), from my own childhood camp experience. The camp graciously allows interested campers to participate in my lesson program. Some of my riding students are campers from AWC. At the end of the day I drop into bed and fall asleep to the sound of horses munching hay under the stars.įrom time to time the sound of a bugle can be heard faintly through the trees from our neighbor, Adirondack Woodcraft Camp. From time to time two enormous truckloads of hay, (over 500 bales at a time), ascend the driveway to stock the hayloft for the coming winter.īy noon the horses are resting comfortably in their stalls where they doze lazily while hiding from the heat and the bugs outside. Every vehicle's arrival is escorted into the driveway by a chorus of barking dogs announcing the obvious. The barn hums with activity from 8:00 in the morning until noon. Its a great way to spend the summer months, immersed in my passion while sharing it with adults and children from a wide range of experience and skill. In the meantime, my life has switched gears so I can focus on the barn in my backyard where I ride, teach riding and provide full care for the horses and goats who live in it. The room's contents, organized and put away, will now remain inert for ten weeks until my next group of students arrives in the fall. Last Thursday, my nineteenth school year came to a close and by 2:00 pm my classroom was purged of all remnants left behind by my fifth graders.

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