May 29, 2026: Pasture Mare Problems and Hard Decisions

Bee returned to Equine Obsession this week.

She left as a pasture mare and came back as a stall mare.

For those who don't speak horse, a pasture mare lives outside full-time with access to shelter, water, friends, and whatever barn gossip is circulating that week. A stall horse spends part of the day inside the barn and part of the day turned out with other horses.

At Equine Obsession during the warm months, stall horses spend the day inside and go out at night. During the winter, the schedule flips. They're out during the warmer daylight hours and tucked safely into stalls overnight.

When we moved to EO, my long-term plan was always to stall Bee. The problem was that no stalls were available.

Eventually one opened up, and I happily signed up for the more expensive accommodations.

In my mind, Bee would appreciate the finer things in life….Clean shavings. Fans. Porta-Coolers on really hot days. Protection from weather. A comfortable place to rest. A private suite. Twice daily room service (who doesn’t love that?).

Bee appears to have a different opinion.

She's not miserable. She's not stressed to the point of sweating. But she is absolutely making her position known in voice and action.

From the window to the wall (And yes... now you're singing it) she paces.

The mares outside have been calling to her constantly. Bee calls right back. She spends her day pacing between the stall outdoor window and the inside window, checking on her friends and making sure she doesn't miss any breaking news.

It has been a good reminder that horses don't always value the same things we do.

I'm over here thinking, "Look at this beautiful stall."

Bee is over there thinking, "My friends are OUTSIDE."

We've also adjusted her feeding program a bit.

When Bee stayed with Sarah, she didn't have unlimited hay available all day. The result was a much trimmer, fitter version of Bee than I'd seen in quite a while. She came home looking athletic and sleek instead of fluffy and retired.

So we're trying to strike a balance between keeping her healthy, keeping her happy, and keeping her from developing what I lovingly refer to as "pasture potato syndrome."

Horse nutrition is part science, part art, and part hostage negotiation.

Speaking of negotiations, I bought a saddle this week. A used saddle. A very reasonably priced used saddle.

When I told Jim how much I paid for it, he immediately asked whether I traded the other one in and whether it came with a seatbelt and parachute. Always the comedian. Hopefully that made you laugh too.

The saddle is exactly what I needed. Nothing fancy. Just a solid, low-to-mid level saddle to get me through for a while.

What I did not anticipate was spending most of today cleaning years of accumulated barn dust, dirt dobber residue, and enough spider evidence to make me question every life choice that led me to horse ownership.

The tooling is beautiful. The tooling is also currently testing the limits of my OCD.

I got the top cleaned reasonably well, but the leather desperately needs conditioning and oil. Honestly, it needs oil like a competition bodybuilder gets lathered before a show. The leather is thirsty. Very thirsty.

I also need to adjust the fenders. For non-horse people, the fenders are the wide pieces of leather that hang down from the saddle and connect to the stirrups. They determine where your feet rest while riding. God blessed me with many things. Long legs were not among them.

I could technically punch more adjustment holes into the leather, but then the fender would become wedged awkwardly against the stirrup. So the better solution is shortening the fenders themselves.

The glamorous life of horse ownership continues.

Before the clean.

The biggest development this week, however, has nothing to do with stalls or saddles.

I've started looking for another horse.

That sentence has been incredibly difficult to type. Even harder to get to that decision. Bee was exactly the right horse for my first year of horse ownership. She's taught me an enormous amount. She's athletic. She's talented. She's healthy. She's honest. And trust me, in the horse world, things could have gone far, far worse.

But after months of training, lessons, conversations, reflection, and more conversations than I can count, I'm beginning to accept that Bee may not be the horse best suited for helping me continue developing my horsemanship skills.

Her anxiety remains the challenge.

Not her willingness. Not her heart. Not her ability. Just the constant anxiety.

For now we're continuing to work.

We've been doing lunging, which is when a horse works on a long line while moving in a circle around the handler. It's a great way to release excess energy, improve focus, and help an anxious horse settle mentally before riding. Honestly, it helps both of us right now.

This week was my first ride on Bee in nearly two months.

I was excited. Curious. Hopeful. She was also hella anxious. We spent about thirty minutes together under saddle in the arena. There was a lot of walking. A lot of backing up. Probably not enough direction changes if I'm being honest. No trotting yet. No big goals. Just reconnecting.

And despite all the anxiety, something remains true. She trusts me. I trust her. I just don't trust her decision-making outside an arena yet.

That's where we are.

My heart still hangs around the neck of this anxious horse I love so much. At the same time, I'm trying to open that heart enough to make room for another horse who may be a better fit for the next chapter.

If Bee eventually leaves, she won't be going to just anyone.

There will be background checks.

Financial reviews.

Reference checks.

Possibly fingerprints.

Maybe a psychological evaluation.

Let's just say the FBI may want to take notes on my screening process.

Because the person who gets Bee won't simply be buying a horse.

They'll be earning the privilege of loving one. (I’m not crying, I’ve got barn dust in my eye).

For now, Bee and I continue doing what we've always done. Showing up. Learning. Adjusting. Trying again.

And somewhere out there, I suspect there's a horse waiting for me just as there's a person waiting for Bee.

When we find them both, I'll let you know. ❤️