Amazing Rockin Intimidation | A Horse Story

By: Erin Lower

From the moment I woke up that intense summer morning, I was buzzing with excitement. At nine years old, the day that the trailer load of new horses arrived was the highlight of my summer. I had graduated from the second level school horses in my lessons, and one of these horses was to be my new mount for schooling sessions. I watched the trailer rumble up the driveway, feeling my heart race all the while. I was at the doors of the trailer before it even came to a complete stop.

My trainer, Phyllis, hopped out of the truck, and called for me to let her and the previous owner unload the horses. “They’re all pretty green,” she stated calmly. I could see the gleam in her eye from beneath her worn black cowboy hat.

The first horse to emerge from the trailer was a stocky, golden palomino gelding. He had a perfect strip down his face, and all four white socks. His mane and tail were both a stunning white, and lightly crimped. He stepped calmly from the trailer, and right away, I noted his name. It was Peroxide, and I felt certain that he would be perfect for my friend Shelby, with his calm demeanour.
Next out was a darker palomino mare. She had a small white star, and a long, straight white mane and tail. She squealed the second she leapt from the trailer. The man who had owned her until now called her Ginger, and she seemed to fit her name perfectly. She was pure attitude; the perfect mount for Stephanie.

There were a few more horses coming off of the trailer, though none of them seemed to catch my eye. They were mostly broodmares, or trail horses. I knew that I would have plenty of time to get to know them all, and that I would end up becoming quite familiar to them all. I felt such a heavy disappointment that I no longer had the urge to run and find my friends to tell them about the new lesson horses I had found for them.

Just as I felt the ragged frustration of not finding the perfect horse for me, I heard a loud banging from the inside of the trailer. Phyllis was clucking madly at the last horse inside. A pair of deep chestnut ears and the barest tip of a nose poked their way out. They disappeared almost as quickly as they had shown themselves. Phyllis dove out of the trailer, and out of the way just in time for the muscular chestnut mare to leap out. I could feel a connection instantly. This was my mare.

She had a brand on her long, muscled hip. It was K bar S, and I knew of her breeder. Her tail was long, thick, and wavy, with barely noticeable streaks of every colour I could imagine. The mane was thin in contrast, but still long and lightly streaked. She was easily evading the two adults, snorting and prancing away with a lead rope dangling from her head. The gleeful spark in her eye was mischievous, and I saw myself reflecting back from that mare. She was taller than the other horses I had ridden, standing at 15.2 hands, and was far more muscled than anything I had ever witnessed. She was a total powerhouse. When her face turned to me, I saw the completely unmatchable marking. It was a star, strip, and snip, but had roan patches along it. Her soft brown eyes showed off her playful nature, and she was unmistakably a Quarter Horse.

Still sidestepping the two trainers, she seemed to be trotting away from the lot of us. Without thinking, I stepped directly in front of her, and whispered, “Hey doll.” Her back end tucked neatly as she stopped on a dime, directly in front of my tiny self. Phyllis and the other man stood speechless as she sniffed my long red hair and let me lead her into the barn without a complaint. She was officially mine to school in lessons.

Her name, it turned out, was Rockin Intimidation, and she would later come to teach me countless lessons. I was (unknowingly) the first person on that mare’s back, and rode her in from the pasture bareback, straight to a white-faced Phyllis. She taught me to trust entirely, and the worst thing she ever did to me was to gallop uncontrollably until I decided to do so. She was the first horse I trained, and gave me a life’s worth of experience in the process.

I later bought her, when I was thirteen and she was six. Almost three years later, I still learn so very much from her. She gives me confidence not only in the saddle, but also in life. She has been my rock when I had nowhere else to turn. Together, we learned everything from jumping to barrel racing, and despite the opportunity to sell her for large sums of money, I have never been the slightest bit tempted. She will never leave my side, so long as I live. She is the reason for me being the person I am today, and I am sure I would not have half the confidence or maturity I possess without her.