Who picked whom? Part 2.

Did I mention what a dreary day it was? Here, a rest stop in New Hampshire on the way to Quebec. It was foggy, it was cold and it was either raining or misting all day.


But Vermont is always pretty and we packed Dorito's and vegetables and dip for the trip.

Go back and read part 1.

I wasn't there shopping. I was just hanging out. Normand Litjens has a beautiful Canadian Horse farm with lovely stock. Nice people too. We'd arrived around noon, a little earlier than expected. Normand had a bunch of yearlings and two year olds in his barn for my friend M to see. I don't know how many he'd brought in, but there were quite a few. Only two of them were chestnuts. My friend M and our trainer were looking at horses and I wandered around the barn a bit just looking at horse butts. I scanned the lines one way, then the other, and something made me stop.

Cue the singing angels.

I saw this one chestnut filly with her face in a pile of hay and all I can think of is the phrase "whoa, do you see what I see?". That was it. I didn't see a single other horse.

I asked Normand to bring this horse out for me to get a better look.

I had made a third lap around her before M and our trainer even noticed "something was going on". I was just being formal. I'd made my mind up. I found myself a horse. This filly looked over her shoulder at me with this "oh you think so huh?" look on her face and that was it.

I had Normand turn her loose in the yard and my trainer came over, looked at the horse, looked at me, looked at the horse, looked at me and kind of said "uh-oh" to herself. She was thinking there better be nothing wrong with this horse.

She looked her over and we turned her loose in one of the bigger pastures with one of her little herdmates.

Nope, nothing wrong with that horse.

Yes, I'll take that one thanks.

Early on it was clear. Rolling is one of her most favorite things.

We brought both of those fillies home. L, the chestnut and my friend M brought home her little black herdmate, M. M was a yearling.

It was gonna take a month or so to process the paperwork and bring them across the border. Much to everyone's surprise I had myself a horse. To this day we don't really if I picked the horse or the horse picked me. Everyone on the property was slack jawed when they saw we had this electric thing going on.

I really had no idea what was in store for me!

L has beautiful blood lines. Here's her sire Nava. He'd just take your breath away.


L comes from the LG Royal bloodline through Nava. While I don't know very much about it I think her dam has some really interesting bloodlines. Her dam's bloodlines include some Brio from which has come some beautiful beasts. L is definitely the "Little Iron Horse" type of Canadian Horse. Probably gets that as much from her dam as her sire.

And she's everything a Canadian Horse is supposed to be. I'm not always sure it started out that way. Oh, I suppose it did. She was pretty sensible 3 year old.

Edit 19 Dec 2010 to add: Let the Training Begin.

Who picked whom? Part 1.

L on October 26th, 2003, 2 years old.


2003 had been a very bad year.

I'd lost my crazy OTTB over the wintertime. We had been treating him for EPM since November (2002) and while there was an occasional encouraging sign it was a losing battle. My J was dumb as a post but he was as lovable a creature as there ever was. Somehow he and I came to an understanding and we took care of each other. He taught me a lot. I think he was 15 years old and whatever the case, he still had a lot left. I still miss him something awful.

We had several Canadian Horses in our barn. They were all black. Everybody wants black Canadian Horses. I had known of Canadian Horses for a year or two before I knew they came in chestnut. I'm kinda partial to chestnut horses. That's important.

So over the summertime I half leased a lovely (black) Canadian mare. I think she was 4 years old. Green as can be. She was (is) a perfectly lovely animal. Of course she wasn't mine so I was careful not to get too attached. Just as well. There were some barn issues and some drama. Things didn't work out.

By the way. I think every barn needs one of these:

Maybe I'll have some made.

I was half heartedly looking for a Spotted Draft Horse in the fall when it came time to take my B for the long walk. B was my Quarter Horse. He was my first horse. He'd had navicular disease, a painful bone disease in his front feet. It got to where he would hardly take a step without a couple of bute in him and it was time. I never knew his age but our best guess was he was maybe 23 or 24 years old.

It's fair to say in October 2003 I was in a funk of sorts.

My riding partner at the time, M, had also recently lost her horse. She had a arranged a shopping trip to Ferme Litjens in Quebec to look for a Canadian Horse.

I went along for the ride. I wasn't really shopping...

Added October 3, 2010: go on to part 2