It was the beginning of winter when my mare Chimney Fire who I called Fee,
gave birth to her second foal, a small chestnut filly with a blaze and two
white stockings. Fee was a raced Thoroughbred mare, which I bought for five
hundred dollars from a Thoroughbred rescue in Vacaville. Like all off the
track Thoroughbreds, Fee was a lively ride. I bought Fee for a “project”
horse but I was getting more then I bargained for. Fee was getting out of
control when I rode her, but she had wonderful ground manners, so I put her
in foal hoping after having another baby she would mellow out a little. I
owned two other equines, Seabreeze and Hollywood. Bree and Holly were my
main horses, but I had the acreage for another horse, and Fee was so
appealing I had bought her. Seabreeze was a 15.3hh Warmblood x Pony cross.
Bree was a light Bay mare with a star and snip, with four stockings. Bree
was well mannered and well trained. I bought her when I was twelve and she
was ten. Bree was hard to ride and was spooky because she had been abused,
but she was amazing to ride.

Hollywood was a smallish Black pony, roughly 14hh and 14 years old. Holly
was my jumper pony, who I loved to gallop menacing three foot six courses on
and hoon around. Holly was a Welsh pony, with a little Hanoverian. I had
bought Holly two years ago when I was fourteen. I did everything with Bree,
eventing, jumping, gymkhanas, hunter jumpers, and dressage but with Holly it
was jumping and gaming. Holly was a spiffy little pony, and even though she
was my serious horse, our relationship was much more then work-based. I did
more on Bree, but it was for fun, and even though I did win money and
things, it was for pure fun. Holly was the major cash bringer.

Winter in California was wet and rainy. I had stopped riding Bree and Holly,
even in my indoor arena. The roof leaked and made the footing sloppy. My
outdoor arena which was also my dressage arena so it didn’t have a fence,
washed away. Surprisingly my paddocks and barn survived the harsh weather.

One day in late January I ventured out and let Fee and her filly that I had
named Pip go in the large paddock. They were both heavily rugged, Fee with
her Combo rug and Pip in her baby Weatherbeeta and cotton rug. The paddock
was half an acre, and two oak trees gave shade. I had lent Holly out to my
friend her for her Adult Riding Club for three days and Bree was lame so
even on a perfect sunny day I couldn’t ride. I did however, turned Bree out
in the smaller paddock.

I went inside the barn and opened all the doors. I cleaned tack, buckets,
and stalls. I also cleaned the barn up too. I realized four and a half hours
had gone by and went to see the horses. Everything was content, Pip hiding
behind Fee and Bree rolling the grassy paddock. I got myself a sandwich and
went back out again, thinking I could lunge Bree at the walk or give her some
exercise and walked Fee and Pip. I was surprised when a light drizzle met my
face, so I went to bring the horses in. I got Bree tucked in and went to
catch Fee and Pip.

I was mildly shocked and slightly horrified when I saw Fee cantering around
in her paddock. Fee had been lame for half her pregnancy and I had thought
Fee might have a foot condition. Then I got really upset. Pip was missing. I
quickly opened the gate and searched the paddock. The fences were sagging a
little, from all the rain but still were sturdy and five feet tall. Pip was
too big to squeeze under the bottom of the fence, but the ground was marshy
and she might have slipped. I thought about Pip sliding under the fence,
spotting something new and trotting off to find out what it was, then
finding something else she was interested in. I could absolutely see it. I
didn’t think as I grabbed Fee’s tack. I threw the saddle on her and hopped
on, forgetting my chaps and helmet.

I was so worried about Pip. It was threatening to rain and Pip had never
been outside in this extent before. Fee was surprisingly good, I only just
realized after ten minutes of trotting how fabulous she was being. I gave
her compliments and rubbed her withers, just the way she liked it. I asked
for a canter hesitantly, but Fee came through and responded by going into a
smooth rocking-horse canter. A light drizzle had began to fall but I
ignored it. Fee did too. The bay mare was alert and looking for her
daughter.

After two hours, I turned Fee home. It was pouring rain and we were hungry,
cold, and dejected. I had lost all hope of finding Pip, and it seemed like
Fee had too. We arrived home sopping wet and miserable. I put Fee away, my
heart breaking at the mare’s expression.

The next day I decided not to ride Fee to look for Pip. She might be her
mother, but Fee was probably exhausted from galloping around for six hours
out of twelve months of no work. I borrowed the neighbor’s Saddlebred
gelding.

After three weeks of searching I gave up. I hadn’t found Pip, and I doubted
Pip was even alive. It was a bright sunny day and it just rained the day
before, so vibrant rainbows streaked the cloudless sky. I decided to ride
Holly and tacked the pony up. I led her into the barn to grab my helmet,
when I walked by Fee’s stall It was wide open. Fee was gone. I was
devastated; I had lost my gorgeous foal and her beautiful mother. I jumped
on Holly forgetting my helmet and kicked her into a gallop.

I searched the same places I had searched with Fee. I came across a large
tree trunk that must have fallen in the storm that had happened a few days
ago. I couldn’t tell how high it was then; I had just assumed Holly could
jump it. I leaned forward and grasped Holly’s Mane. She lifted her knees up
and prepared to jump. Holly sailed over it and I sat back, thinking the
landing would be simple. Suddenly, Holly crashed to the ground. I flew off,
and hit tree. Holly kicked my leg by accident and I tried to scoot away but
I couldn’t move my leg.

I managed to pull myself up using a branch of the tree. Holly was caught in
a mess of mud, reins, and branches. I untangled her and checked her for
bumps and bruises. Holly had a bleeding cut on her leg, several scrapes,
and she had a cut on her chest. I hugged Holly. “I’m sorry girl," I sobbed. I
looked over the jump. It was almost as high as me, which meant it was about
five feet tall. No wonder Holly hadn’t made it!

I started limping home feeling depressed. I saw that the rainbow looked
like it ended at the river, and Holly needed water. I led her towards it.
When we got there, I let Holly drink. I looked around, and it really looked
like the rainbow ended just around the bend. I tied Holly to a tree and
went exploring. I didn’t expect to see anything but when I turned the bend,
the rainbow did indeed end. But instead of a pot of gold, Fee and Pip were
drinking! I sobbed with joy. Pip was skinny and looked terrible but she was
alive!

That was a year ago. Now, Pip is a beautiful two year old, and I’m breaking
her in a few months. Fee is now perfectly rideable; she is the best horse
I’ve ever ridden. I’ve taken Holly out of competing and now she is my trail
horse. I’ve rebuilt my setup, and now we are completely prepared for
another wet California winter.