# The Chronicles of Cree.



## SeemsLegit (Oct 26, 2012)

It had been the sort of hot which loosens will, which slackens determination; we were all sweating, standing there in wait of the police, and yet it all seemed mild. Only once we were in the vehicle, only once we were pulling away with three little ones tucked into the trailer behind us, would the heat set in. And we -- my mother, my stepfather, and I -- would all start to _laugh_.

I purchased this little girl months ago, when she was just two days old. She had been born by a stroke of luck, her mother having no medical aid despite it being a rough foaling; she had a small umbilical hernia, I could see, but the moment I saw her I was awestruck. I had been considering breeding one of my own mares, as the family was by all means ready-- but, seeing her and knowing well she would be in need of a home? I couldn’t say no. 

Her appearance was unusual, but simple. I wanted a name that reflected that; short but unique, mild but original. The moment I heard Cree, I was sold. 

Trying to get her and her comrades -- two other foals, neither related to her -- was ridiculous. The property was overrun with “feral” horses, stallions and mares and geldings all with free reign of about 100 acres of rugged land. We had been told that the little ones would be separated from their mothers a week before our arrival, to both lessen the stress of the move and aid in getting them into the trailer, but it had been done. The owners refused to give us the foals, the police was called. In the end, they sided with logic and were equally as eager to get the young ones away from an evidently dangerous situation. 

A half hour later, we were pulling out of that drive with a full trailer and smiles which touched our eyes. 

It was a ****-long drive, and Cree was slick with sweat by the time we pulled in. We weren’t able to back into any of the pastures, though, so we readied ourselves with the reality; we would need halters on them, before they were to leave. My stepdad slid in through the trailer window and began to halter these virtually wild, untouched little horses; they gave with time but, by the end of it all, they were shaken and so were we. I was first, to get Cree out of the trailer. I attached a lead to her halter, I readied myself, and when my mother swung open that door I ran out and towards the waiting pen. Cree followed, reluctantly, but the moment she was out of the trailer my little filly exploded. It took only moments to get her under control and willing enough to lead, before her and I were in the pen together; both of us breathing hard, both of us sweating. 

I don’t know if her nature is to be trusting, or if she was aware things were about to change for her. Maybe she could feel my compassion or, perhaps, my calm and level disposition soothed her. I didn’t want to stress her out, and I sure as hell didn’t want to fight with her; I wanted to work with her. It took some time but, before long, I was able to work to the end of my lead to touch her. 

By the end of the night she was leading as though she had been doing it all her life, and she was calm. She just needed to give and to take, to listen and in turn be rewarded. That was my little girl’s only explosive moment. From that point onward, she’s only been a dream. 

She leads amazing. She’s allowing touch all over her body. She’s letting me pick up her feet. She has yet to spook at anything. Wild and untouchable no longer, it seems.

I have a feeling this hernia-bearing Cree of mine is a diamond in the rough. Everyone envies her relaxed demeanor, and she seems tolerant and wise beyond her years. *This is a journal that will follow our progress, from purchase to riding to whatever may follow in the years to come.* I am firm with her, no doubt, but the little one just softens my heart.

And now pictures, from day two to present...


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