| I was genetically programmed to become a horseperson. My mother came from a ranching family in Wyoming, my father came from Kentucky, where horses had always played a part in his life because hismother and grandmother were horsewomen. I was practically born on a horse. As soon as I could toddle I learned the importance of a clean arena and an appreciation for the perfume of horses. Later, when I was almost big enough to walk around an arena by herself, from time to time I was allowed to ride an old schoolmaster at a riding stable near Bethlehem Pennsylvania. |
 Mother, Roberta Bradbury with Hans Winkler in Germany. I was there but you can't see me yet! |
Learning
the importance of a
clean
arena
|
Learning
to handle double reins early.
Pity
the stirrups wouldn’t go up any farther!
|
| In
the summers, I visited the ranch in Wyoming, meeting a different type of
horse, and learning from my great uncle Bill. Life went on, I grew a little
taller, and moved to Texas. ( the joys of life as a child of the
Air Force) The wide open spaces and a very doting father made it possible
for me to have my very own horse, a retired stable horse with infinite
patience and the ability to escape from "under" any fence. Old Pete taught
a lot of lessons, the main one being that he didn’t care what kind of tack
or combination of tack you used, as long as it fit him.
Again life went on, I grew a little taller still, and we moved to Colorado, (the first time). Pete was left behind in Texas to help some other little girl learn about horses. I rode on weekends, learning from a variety of school horses, and discovered more than just “passengering” on a horse. I was given a choice between dance lessons (boring!) and riding lessons (no contest!). So much for being a ballerina! There were certainly advantages to being an only child. Then Barney arrived, from Wyoming, where uncle Bill had bought him out of a sale ring. We spent hours together, roaming the hills,and generally living out every little girl’s horse fantasy. I even found out how to make him do a “singlefoot”, my first exposure to a gaited horse. |
No,
the horse didn’t bite, but you could break your neck
if
you fell off the corral fence!
|
Pete with a mixed up kid on his back! |
Barney, Penny and me ... tack, what tack? |
Barney
knew what to do with a calf – stay with it! I learned to stay with him-
most of the time! Life was good, but as always, it brought change.
After several years, Barney moved back to Wyoming, and we moved to Europe.
That meant riding on school horses, being drilled by a German dressage
master. It was not exactly fun, but it was certainly a valuable experience.
We
also did other things..under supervision
|
Double
reins again.... I was fated to use them
|
Flash forward ... I returned from Europe to
more summers in Wyoming riding ranch horses, university years in California,
with only a
little rental horse riding. A car wreck
left me with a broken pelvis and hip, but that was not going to interfere
with a lifetime love of horses. I married Charles Ziegler (still married
after over 30 years)
While training my first horse I discovered
that the injuries from the wreck made it hard to ride a trot, either sitting
or posting. Then, my father, always the researcher, always looking
out for his only daughter, saw a Forest Ranger ride up to his cabin in
the Big Horn wilderness in Wyoming on a gaited horse (Fox Trotter), and
the rest, as they say, was history.
Doesn't
everyone start horses bareback in a
longeing
cavesson?
|
A
smooth, natural, Fox Trotting horse, Metronome, ridden
in
“minimalist style”, by my dad, J. W. Bradbury. She really
did
start it all for me when it comes to gaited horses.
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