Updated: Oct 1
I have always been a nomad. My parents moved often although we were not a military family. Then I followed suit and joined the military to move often. I love the excitement of a new place, and the opportunity to meet new people and start fresh. Until I bought Gypsy Farms in 2012, I had not stayed in one house for more than 2 years. Here it is 2020, 8 years later and I am still here. I have a Gypsy soul, so it was only fitting that I would find a horse that mirrored my life, but in a much shorter time period.
I first laid eyes on Gypsy while perusing the Bluebonnet Equine Humane Society (BEHS) website. At the time she was listed as "Kandi". I read her story and made an appointment to go meet her. She was green-broke, according to the listing, so I brought my saddle and bridle so I could take her for a test ride. When I go there, I noticed that she had a large scratch down her side and several more on her chest. Apparently, she was at the bottom of the totem pole with that herd, and had been run into a fence and a wheelbarrow by a herd-mate. I took her for a spin and was hopeful that she had better manners than she did, both in the saddle and on the ground. But the reality was that she needed a lot of work to get to a good solid point. But she was sweet and had a good demeanor and calm eyes, so I adopted her. My first year with Gypsy was painful. She didn't want to load in the trailer, she was extremely pushy on the ground, she didn't want to just walk. She would do what she wanted when she wanted to. I had never owned a mare before, and I learned why pretty quickly.
In fact, our first year was so painful, I didn't know if I should keep her and I considered giving her back to the rescue.
Then it dawned on me. I needed to look at why she was doing what she was doing. She wasn't just a horse that I could tell her to jump and she would. There was so much more to her than that. So I asked more about her history and learned quite a bit. I did some research and found this photo of her when she was seized by the sheriff's office after being rescued from her neglectful owners. I hate seeing this photo, as it will always bring tears to my eyes, but it also reminds me of where she came from.
Until this point, I still called her Kandi, although I wasn't fond of the name. I learned that she had been adopted and given back to the rescue 5 times after this photo was taken. During two of those periods, the owners called her "Gypsy". I decided this would forever define her. I realized why she wouldn't get in the trailer. Every time she had stepped foot in the trailer, she had been delivered to a new place, never returning to where she was comfortable. She was in fact, a Gypsy. She was a free spirit, but traveling, not on her own terms, but those of others around her. She was completely misunderstood, and nobody took the time to understand her.
I made a promise to myself, that I would be her rock and I would be there for her until the day that one of us meets the good Lord. Although she would be called Gypsy, she would no longer be, a Gypsy. She had found her home, forever.