The Horse That Built Me: Part 1- Sunny

One of our friends, Kirstie Jones, of Kirstie Marie Photography based in Dallas, Texas has embarked on a photographic pilgrimage of sorts, with the goal of photographing all of her previous horses: those that she either owned or leased, those who had a considerable impact on her life. 

Below is the first in her series of The Horse That Built Me: Part 1- Sunny. Stay tuned to the Blog section of EquineChronicle.com for…

By: Kirstie Marie

Miranda Lambert penned a song about the house that built her. The lyrics portray her revisiting her childhood home to collect old memories – hoping that by touching the place she grew up, and reliving milestones in her life, she could stitch the pieces together to find herself.

For as long as I can remember, I have been crazy about horses. I didn’t have Barbies; I had Breyers (and do you remember “Grand Champion” horses?!) I didn’t play “house.” I set up extravagant barns for my toy horses and gave each horse a registered name and faux pedigree. I started riding lessons at about 3 years old and couldn’t get enough. Even the sight of a horse was intoxicating for me. I was hopelessly addicted.

Horse. Crazy.

“I was drawn to horses as if they were magnets. It was in my blood… Perhaps there’s a quirk in the DNA that makes horse people different from everyone else, that instantly divides humanity into those who love horses and the others, who simply don’t know.”

– Allan J. Hamilton

This summer, I’ve attempted to revisit the horses that built me: the horses that I’ve owned and leased over the course of my life. They are the horses who shaped my experiences, personality, and childhood. I wanted to take their portraits to immortalize the memories I have with them.

The first horse of “my own” came when I was in the 2nd grade when I leased a 33-year-old horse named Sunny. Sweet Sunny passed away many years ago, so I wasn’t able to take his portraits this summer.

In fact, I don’t have any pictures of him (which completely breaks my heart, and is the main reason for this project), so allow me to describe him as I remember…

a swayed back, gently carrying generations of little girls

wise eyes, a patient teacher

dorsal and leg stripes, a golden dun color

long whiskers, on a muzzle kissed a billion times

long coat, the soft kind you can run your fingers through

big, wide hooves, carrying an even bigger heart

I loved him so much it ached. I vividly remember tears streaming down my face in my bed one night, as I cried to my mother about how the other girls who used to ride him barely greeted him anymore. They loved their new horses now and treated him like a stepping stone. I promised her that I would never treat him like that. I would be different. I would love him forever.

I took him treats, but he had a hard time eating them. After I would ride, I would soak his senior feed in water and offer him the soupy, sloppy mix from my cupped hands. I would walk the fence of the pasture and let him hand graze before turning him back out. I bought him my first saddle with the money I’d saved up for a lifetime — it was a Circle Y barrel racing saddle about 30 years old and I still have it.

It was the first time I felt so emotionally connected to a horse. Before, I loved the idea of horses. Now, I loved my very own (leased) beauty. I never showed him. I didn’t have him for long before I purchased my first pony (coming along in the next blog post!) But my favorite memories were trail riding with him in the pastures. My smile was probably a mile wide. He was the kind of horse that filled my little 7-year-old self with tons of confidence. On the back of my trusty steed, I could conquer the world. He went everywhere I asked; he did everything I told him to. I felt respected, powerful, and strong. Looking back, horses like that are absolutely priceless.