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THIS IS WHAT AN EQUESTRIAN LOOKS LIKE

The Horse Lover's Blog

Another change in name for this far-too-occasional blog. But only yesterday did I realize what it should be called, and what it should focus on. (What can I say? Sometimes I'm a slow learner!)
My new book, coming in March, is the revised and updated Horse Lover's Encyclopedia, published by Storey. I spent months thinking about horses every single day. It was my job. Recently I wrote an article for Muse, the children's science magazine, about the horse blanket study--more on that later. In both cases I had a ball.
And yesterday I was thinking about difficult-to-trailer-alone horses, and found a study showing that horses with a mirror in the trailer travel much more calmly. I love that stuff! And that's what I'm going to do on this blog from now on.
Think of it as an extension to the encyclopedia, because we couldn't make that a bazillion pages long, and because new scitorence and new training methods are popping up every day. I'll try to keep up with it, and I'll try to help you do the same. Let me know if you like it.  Read More 
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The Chestry Oak--Don't Read It If You Hate To Cry

The gorgeous original cover--and it's back in print!
Yesterday I dipped into The Chestry Oak, by Kate Seredy. This is a book I read as a teen and loved, and had not looked at in many years. I was looking for gorgeous prose about horses, to snip out some quotations for Workman's Horse Gallery 2017 calender, and I found some.
But I also found myself unable to keep from crying, at the story of Hungarian Prince Michael, who lives with his father in Chestry castle in the midst of the Nazis. Michael loves Chestry Valley, his father, their beautiful horses, and his peasant nurse, and loses them all in one terrifying night of bombing.
But the part that made me cry was when he begins to get things back again, in his new home. I won't spoil the plot, just suggest that you buy this book, recently re-released. Don't read it in public, or with anybody you can't cry in front of. It's a sentimental book, yes, but that really works here, and Seredy wrote so beautifully and knowingly about horses. You will fall in love with the black stallion, Midnight--but you can't have him for your own. He belongs to himself. Read More 
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Jessie Haas, Horse Expert

As I finish the first round of edits for Storey's Horselover's Encylcopedia, which I'm editing and updating, I'm daring to wonder--is it time to call myself a horse expert?

I don't know everything about horses. I can ride, I've saddle-trained 3 horses, owned 4, cared for 6, but when the going gets tough this girl gets off. Hey, even the great John Lyons says that's okay!)

But I have written over 35 children's horse books, including the comprehensive nonfiction book Horse Crazy, which won the American Horse Publications book award. I've fact-checked Horse Heroes for Magic Tree House. I've written a world history of horses in poetry. I've written captions for Workman's Horse Gallery 2016 calender, and am just about to start 2017. I wrote a pioneering book on horse safety, and I'm finishing an encyclopedia, and you know what? It's time to name it and claim it. Jessie Haas, Horse Expert.

Don't stack me up against a smart 4-H kid in a Quiz Bowl. I think I'll always have to look up normal t-p-r rates. I rarely get horses in the correct order in those judge-the-horses photo contests.

But I know the smart questions, and how to avoid the ignorant mistakes. I know how to find stuff out, and how to hit a deadline. I know how to draft a sentence so it's crystal-clear. I can write a riding scene that will make a nonrider feel like she's just had her first lesson, on a real horse.

And I love horses. I've loved them passionately, all my life. I love their looks, their sounds, their smells, the feel of riding them, the sweetness of feeding them, the mystery their thoughts and feelings.

And I love horse books. Horses and the written word, my sweetheart and my cats and dog, family and the farm -- and good wine, and something nice to eat with it. There you have me. Jessie Haas, horse expert. Humble horse expert, who knows she still has a ton to learn and always will, but who's willing to take on any interesing horsey project that comes my way.( Read More 
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This Rider--stanza six



Last stanza--

And this one hopes
the judge did not see that.
If the mistake was overlooked
she'll win.
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This Rider--stanza five

Patient as the stone around him.
Thanks to Wikipedia for the image of the British sentry.

This rider
sits
motionless
in a tall
narrow
sentry box
outside
the palace,
pretending
not to hear
what people say.
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This Rider--stanza four

Yes, I ride her. But I keep my wits about me.
The fourth stanza of a horse poem from Hoofprints. The accompanying picture captures the spirit of spring in Vermont--muddy and explosive. Spring is here but the grass isn't greening up yet, and we all have a bit of cabin fever.

This rider stays on
--that's all--
eight seconds.
Legs fly loose,
spurs scratch fore and aft,
and then at last the whistle blows.
Let go!
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This Rider--stanza three

This rider goes as fast as fast can go
for less than three minutes.
Ideally, she doesn't get killed.
Ideally, she'll do it again,
three or four times an afternoon,
ending as often as possible
ahead of the others.
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Second stanza from the poem, This Rider

Here is the second stanza. They will eventually appear in inverse order in the blog, correct order on the Hoofprints page.

This rider slouches.
In each direction
he sees miles and miles
of miles and miles.
Get over the ground,
look at fences,
look at cattle,
then eat, sleep,
do it again tomorrow.
Let the horse shuffle
any old how,
as long as
it doesn't
raise a blister. Read More 
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A horse poem by installments

This horse poem, from Hoofprints, will appear in installments over the next few days. Hoofprints is available again through Open Road Integrated Media.

This rider,
in black jacket, white breeches,
is accountable for each step taken.
Each hoof touches earth
precisely to her bidding.
Cadence, elasticity,
metronomic rhythm,
even the ears,
even if the  Read More 
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Mud Season in Vermont

It's mud season here, and that makes me think of my grandfather, Emmannuel Trevorrow, and his good work horses, Chub and Sailor. This poem is from Hoofprints, available as an e-book from Open Road Integrated Media.

The car is
Up to the axles in mud.
It's nineteen forty-eight, most roads are paved,
But this  Read More 
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