It was a warm spring morning in 1976 and my Dad dropped me off at Templed Hills Riding Academy where I worked as a trail guide. Pete and Paul Congelosi were scheduled to bring the last three horses to add to the busy summer trail rides. A truck pulling a long silver trailer entered the driveway with three horses aboard. A tall platinum palomino gelding was lead out first. Then came an appaloosa gelding with a sorrel mare close behind. Whenever new horses came for the summer, those of us who worked there had to try them out to see what kind of a rider we should or should not put on them. We also had to try different bits, bridles, saddles and pads to be sure the horses were happy with their tack. I had my eye on the palomino for a lead horse. We called him “Pal”.
The riding season began shortly after. When the riders arrived before each ride, we asked a few questions about their past experience, then got them all on their horses and made the final adjustments so everyone was comfortable. Once we were all ready, I swung up on Pal to head down the main trail, called Queen Anne’s Way, with a line of horses and riders behind me as we began our one hour ride through the fields and trails on about 50 acres. There was always someone who worked with me riding “shot gun” (at the end of the line). Especially when we had every horse on the trail. When we got to the first field it was a place where everyone got to go a little faster. Every time we picked up speed, that sorrel mare broke out of the line and passed Pal and I. She assumed the lead position. After doing this a few times, I said to myself, “This horse wants to be the lead horse”.
Every day around noon, we would take the saddles off the horses for an hour break and walk across the road to the big picnic table near the house where Mrs. B (the owner) would bring us lunch. She always gave us a learning lecture on some interesting subject or teach us about plants, words in different languages and encourage our participation as well as giving us a place to share something. I told her about the sorrel mare, and she said it looks like she wants to be your lead horse. After lunch I tacked her up and lead the first afternoon ride with her, and every one after that for the rest of the season.
Then it came time to discuss names for the horses who would be with us for the summer. Mrs. B had 4 or 5 horses that were hers with permanent names. All the others were there just for the summer. Being 1976, the Bicentennial, she wanted to give all the summer horses patriotic names. She wanted to call the sorrel mare Dolly after Dolly Madison. I really didn’t like the name Dolly. I also knew that if any of us had a good case to suggest something different, the lunch table was where it could be discussed.
There was, and still is, a statue of a young girl on a horse in Putnam County. Her name was Sybil Ludington (1761-1839) in the town of Carmel, NY at Lake Glenida. I passed it often as we lived nearby. She is recognized as a heroine of the American Revolutionary War. I learned that she was the 16 year old daughter of Colonel Henry Ludington. She rode all night to rally militia forces in neighboring towns after the burning of Danbury, CT by the British forces. https://www.battlefields.org/learn/biographies/sybil-ludington
The time came when I was to state my reasoning for why I felt she should be named “Sybil” and not “Dolly” at the big picnic table. I was nervous, but determined. I told the story to everyone at the table. When I was finished, Mrs. B looked me in the eyes and said, “I’m very impressed! Her name is be Sybil.”
Sybil was very expressive and communicative. I was riding her with a snaffle bit with short shanks. When we got to a certain place in the training field, it was time to trot and then lope. I would give her a verbal click and she would immediately go into a very smooth trot then a equally smooth lope when I clicked again. But then, she would grab the shank on the bit as if to say, “Can we get this thing out of my mouth?”.
Here we are at the picnic table again for lunch. I asked Mrs. B if she had any bridles without a bit and told her what Sybil did in the training field. She had a large carriage house next to her house, and told me to look around in there. I found an old leather covered mechanical hackamore and cleaned it up with the oil she gave us to clean all the tack. So Sybil went happily everywhere I rode her after that. She was light and sensitive to every cue like she was reading my mind.
Then, it was the end of the summer. All the rented horses leave at the end of the summer after Labor Day and Sybil was going to be one of them! I felt sick in my heart thinking she was going to leave and I’d never see her again. Just like the mare, Bonnie, and the red dun gelding, Yankee, in previous years. I’m sure my Mom had something to do with what happened next. Mrs. B called me on the phone to tell me she is giving Sybil to me for my upcoming High School graduation and for my years of working for her! Now she was really MY horse.
My commitment to really learn about horses took off now that Sybil was my responsibility. I saved money and took a home course through the mail from the Professor Beery School of Horsemanship and received a Certificate in 1978 for completing the course. Those books are still out there! I didn’t agree with the part about bits, as Sybil clearly indicated that they were not necessary.
Sybil taught me about listening, kindness, trust, relationship and don’t be afraid to pursue your dreams. We lead guided trail rides at two other facilities as I moved a little further upstate, and went on many long personal rides together with my dog trailing along. Our relationship was the corner stone of the foundation I still stand on today. I couldn’t think of a better experience to build on as I continued to make horses a significant part of my life. She passed from the physical world in 1982 with her head cradled in my arms and tears in my eyes, at Sunset Acres where I was the barn trainer/manager for 17 years.
Sybil and I at Field and Forest Stables in Brewster, NY 1978. Not a trace of that huge 200 acre farm exists. Only in a few pictures and my fondest of memories.
Every Horse Has a Story #1
What a sweet story and memory! (I would pass the statue of Sybil Ludington very frequently as I lived in the area for many years. I always marveled thinking of this young girl and her horse and what they did). Thank you for sharing your story!
I have been a horse lover all my life. Still havec3 and 1 really good mule.