A Mare Called Alan

By Jenna Fogle

It’s an awkward name for a mare, really. Alan? That’s a boy’s name. But really, Alan suited her way better than her former name, Ferrah.

Ferrah was a battered and torn mare. (And a really skinny one at that.) No hope. No strive. No life.

Alan was a fighter. Alan had character. Alan was alive. (Boy was she alive.)

If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought I’d have taken on a donkey. Nope, that was just her 4-inch long buckskin hairs she’d grown for the winter months.

A little food and love can go a long way in a horse. (It can even give them way more energy so they can buck you off.)

Alan was the first horse to ever buck me off. It was pretty embarrassing. (Note that this happened in front of 6 other people. 4 of which I had just met.)

One minute we were loping in circles calm and collectively and the next I was holding on for my eight second ride with a wild bronc underneath me. (Just so we have everything clear, I stayed on for about 10 seconds…)

Alan and I constantly bumped heads. And I mean CONSTANTLY. But we had a bond. We had a connection. (What we really had was a love-hate-relationship.)

This little 14.2hh buckskin mare taught me way more than how to raise a horse from the dead.

The greatest lesson she taught me was patience. (It’s a really big jump going from a been-there-done-it horse; to a barely green broke horse. Let me tell ya.)

One of the first things I taught her was “whoa”. (She then proceeded to teach me that she had mastered this and that I needed to be ready for it, because she was sitting down whether I was or not.)

I acquired Alan because I thought she needed me. I couldn’t have been more wrong. We needed each other.

There was quite a few blood, sweat, and tears shed with Alan during the time she was mine, and we both definitely had our work cut out for us.

Though everything we both had to endure, there is still only one thing I would change about our story.

I would change how it ended.

I would keep the book open.

I would keep writing page after page about our adventures and new lessons.

Unfortunately, our time together had to come to an end.

I was trying to finish college, and money was really tight. (I already had one horse. Two horses go through a lot more hay than just one.)

Alan crosses my mind all of the time.

I can only hope that she has given someone else what she has given me. (No, not bruises and an aching body.) But a better understanding and patient heart.

And so my search for Alan continues.