May/June 09 PonyCare - Trotting the Woods for the Trees Part II

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By Margaret Evans, www.earthwaysmedia.com

“Are you serious?” Mom stared at her daughter over supper.

“Jill, Meridy, and Sandie thought it was GREAT!” Anita bubbled. “It’s SO different. We decided on a dressage-a-thon ‘cause everyone has to do flatwork and it’s easier to set up and everyone can trot a pattern and…”

“WHOA!” It was Dad’s turn. “W-5 Anita — Who, what, where, when, why?”

“Well, we know the what and why,” Anita began cautiously. “I’m sure Pete Poole will let us use his field so that’s the where and we could host it at the end of the month. That’s the when.”

“You’ve left out the fifth W, Anita,” Matt smirked knowing why she’d avoided it.

“Yes,” said Mom grimly, “Who.”

“Err…” Anita glanced around the table. “All our moms and dads and brothers and Pete and Grandma and Gramps and…”

As the collective eye rolling began, Anita was saved by the phone. It was Gramps. She spluttered out her idea. He roared with laughter and signed up immediately. “What a great idea! A show, eh? Well, here’s where your riders can buy seedlings.”

Anita grabbed a notepad and wrote down the name of the local nursery, its phone number, and the kind of seedlings to buy. She grinned triumphantly.

“Gramps is on board. And here’s where riders can buy seedlings!”

In the next few days, Anita talked to Pete Poole, their neighbour, about using his field for the day’s event. He was all for it. As a gardener and a walker, he too had heard about trees at risk.

“Good thinkin’ Anita,” he nodded. “Riders working with the community. I like that. We’ll have parking around the old barn again. Mom and Dad on side with this?”

Anita nodded. He peered at her. “Sort of, right?”

She grinned. Pete always knew the score.

The girls designed artsy entry forms. They drew a fir tree then put all the information on the branches with a clip-out registration slip at the bottom. Everyone could ride two tests. Jill asked two of the dressage instructors at Blue Meadows Equestrian Centre, Mavis and Zoe, if they would be judges. Anita and Meridy would write for them. Both Mavis and Zoe agreed. With the judges’ names added, Anita ran off the entry forms on the printer and their moms and dads dropped them off at the feed and tack stores in town. The Forestry people agreed to have a display booth at the show. The girls were thrilled.

The next week Pete mowed the grass and Dad and Matt tidied up the driveway, sectioning off where people would park and warm up. The following weekend he, Dad, Anita, and the girls set out two dressage rings and in the evening the girls made signs and entry numbers, all tree-shaped. Mom remembered at the last minute to order a portable toilet.

“Has anyone entered yet?” asked Jill.

“We got the first three today,” grinned Anita. “Suzie Colridge is coming on Lucy. Marion Smith is coming.”

“Does she still have Whitewash?”

“You bet,” said Meridy. “I saw her riding the other day. She’ll never sell her Paint pony!”

“Zelda’s riding Puddles.”

“I saw Tony Adams in the feed store,” added Sandie. “He’s going to ride.”

“Tony!” Anita exclaimed. “He NEVER rides dressage! He’s never even seen dressage…”

“He said the idea’s too cool not to. He said anyone could ride in circles.”

“Oh yea…” grinned Jill. “I just hope his score is higher than his shoe size. Who’s calling for him?”

“One of us, likely,” Anita giggled. She could feel the old familiar excited tingle of anticipation as the day got close. More entries arrived and the girls starting setting out ride times. So far they had 50 riders.

The night before the show Anita couldn’t sleep. She wished she could ride Penny but as an organizer she couldn’t. She tossed and turned and worried. At last she slept, dreaming of trees growing in the dressage ring and the riders doing dressage tests high in the mountains in Venezuela. She woke in a sweat at six AM and decided to stay up, make a big breakfast, and not risk another extreme dream.

The weather was perfect. Mom and Auntie Wendy ran the registration desk, Grandma and Gramps were the two whippers-in, Dad and Pete Poole took care of parking, and Jill’s mom and Sandie’s mom ran the concession. Matt and Sean, Sandie’s brother, collected scores.

“I’ve lost the pins for my number. Have you got more?”

“Which ring am I in?”

“Can I ride any test?”

“Just the ones you ticked on your entry form.”

“Where’s the toilet?”

“Do we still ride if it rains?”

“If I ride the 20-metre circle the wrong way, does it count?” Elise didn’t ride dressage often. Actually, she didn’t ride often at all.

“That means you’ll have ridden the whole test the wrong way,” explained Anita. “You’ll get zero. Didn’t you practice your test?”

“What test?”

“The one I sent to you with your registration package.”

“Mom used it in the bird cage when she was cleaning Squawker. Did I need it?”

Anita rolled her eyes. “Err… yes.”

“I just wanted to bring a tree.” Elise was so honest and forthright Anita could only grin and hug her. Inwardly she sighed. The dressage-a-thon might not be Grand Prix level but at least it was original.

“Rider 18, you’re on deck!” boomed Gramps. “This is fun! All I have to do is stand here and yell.”

Zelda on Puddles squealed with excitement. Puddles responded by leaping the rail into the ring. Jill cringed, Anita hid her eyes, and Zelda grinned triumphantly. Zelda and Puddles were both excitable and, as Zelda rode the 20-metre circles, Jill envisioned her barrel racing.

As trailers came and went, so the collection of seedlings grew behind the registration desk. At noon, Mom stared at a woodlot walking toward her.

“Brilliant idea. Brilliant!” beamed Jane McLeod as she and her daughter June plonked huge armfuls of seedlings on the desk and emerged from behind the branches.

Mom stared. “You only needed one tree….”

“June entered everything!” Jane beamed again with a characteristic flourish. She rarely read show rules. “We bought extra trees!”

“That’s really generous of you!” Mom couldn’t help grinning.  “So many people have supported the girls.”

“Brilliant girls. Brilliant!” beamed Jane. “But these are just a few. There’re fifty more trees in the trailer. I hope Crackers didn’t stand on any…”

Mom was speechless as Jane swirled away and called to Dad and Pete who ran to help her unload. As the tree collection swelled, Anita joined Mom and Auntie Wendy and stared at the huge number of plants behind them.

“Where did they come from?”

“Everyone brought more than one,” grinned Auntie Wendy. “Some brought ten. And then June’s mom brought….”

“Don’t tell me. A hundred.” Anita deadpanned.

“Close,” Mom grinned. “Eighty.”

Anita rolled her eyes. “How are we going to get all these trees up the hill?”

The show day was winding down when people wondered exactly how many trees had been donated. Mom and Auntie Wendy did a count. There were close to 500 trees.

“COOL!” whistled Matt. “Who’s carrying them all?”

“This will be a truck, pony, and mule convoy,” grinned Dad. There was no way the ponies could cope with all the seedlings.

“I never expected this number of trees,” said Martie, who had run the Forestry booth, joining them. “But then, I haven’t stopped talking to people all day. You kids sure touched a nerve. ”

“Thanks,” grinned Anita. “But we couldn’t have done it without our families and Pete.” 

“No doubt,” Martie smiled.

“Our next project is how to load the trees on the ponies,” said Jill.

“Dad’s got packing gear,” said Sandie. Her father, Bill Carey, was a long-time backcountry rider and had a lot of packing equipment. “Are you going to use Monty to take a load of trees, Dad?”

“You bet,” he nodded. “I’ve got plenty of gear for the ponies so if you all want to come over to our barn during the week I’ll fit each one out.”

“Sounds great!” grinned Meridy.

“When are we doing this?” Matt wanted to know.

“We’ve got crews planting already,” explained Martie. “So if you can transport these trees any time this month that would work. Just give me a head’s up.”

“Everyone good to do this next weekend?” Dad asked the group. The answer was unanimous. 

“You’re coming, aren’t you Gramps?” Anita asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it! Grandma will go with Mom and Dad in the truck. That reminds me…”

Anita watched as he had a quick word with her mom. Her face lit up with excitement. Anita wondered what he said when Jill called her to help take down the dressage ring. In a short while, they had all cleared away the show equipment.

The trip to the plantation plot would be a five kilometre hike. After school on Tuesday, Anita, Meridy, and Jill led their ponies over to Sandie’s home where her dad showed all of them how to put a pack saddle on a pony, hang the pack boxes on either side, cover them with a tarp, and secure the load with a lash rope using the diamond hitch method. Anita was fascinated. She had no idea there were 20 versions of the famous diamond hitch. But she could see how secure it was, no matter which method was used. She had to practice it a number of times and the girls helped each other.

On Friday night a lot of seedlings were loaded into two pickup trucks. Mom, Dad, Grandma, Auntie Wendy, and Squirt, their dog, would ride in one while Sandie’s mom Denice would drive the other truck with Jill’s mom and Pete Poole. He was determined not to miss this for anything.

Everyone arrived very early Saturday morning. Fanny and Monty, the two mules, and Penny, Sugar, and Daisy were each loaded up. The seedlings had to be placed in the pack boxes so that they wouldn’t get damaged or dislodged on the uphill trip. Matt and Sean had panniers on their bikes with a few trees in each. Gramps, for good symbolic measure, had a couple in his backpack.

“All ready?” yelled Dad and they all cheered.

Gramps paused by Dad’s truck for a few words with Mom and Grandma before leaving. The trucks would take the forestry access route up the hill which was longer than the route the pony convoy would follow. They would follow the interlinking equestrian trails that led beyond the lookout. 

The day began cool and overcast but as they journeyed along a shortcut trail that led to the main trailhead, the skies cleared. No one said too much as Matt and Sean biked ahead followed by the two mules and then the three ponies. They had agreed to stop at the lookout for a snack and to water the animals at one of the creeks. They moved steadily up the switchback. Signs of nightlife were still fresh on the trail: deer droppings, raccoon tracks, and an imprint of a coyote trotting through some wet mud. A hawk screamed overhead matched by the cawing of a Stellar’s jay. Stellar’s were experts at mimicking a hawk’s cry and Anita would mistake one for the other. Jill though, ever the bird enthusiast, could always tell them apart. Gray jays and magpies were spotted too and as they approached the lookout squirrels scampered out of sight. 

“I’m starving!” groaned Matt as he dropped his bike and pulled off his backpack stuffed with snacks around the trees. They all were. Chowing down on sandwiches, fruit, and drinks, they rested while the animals grazed on a small patch of grass then drank at the stream. Bill checked all the packs to be sure nothing had loosened while Gramps rested.

“Looking good,” Bill grinned.

“Another hour you think?”

“Thereabouts. The trail’s a lot more gradual from here. The switchback lower down always gets people.”
“Comes with the turf,” grinned Gramps.

The rest of the trail was easy. As it levelled out just below alpine, Anita looked ahead at Fanny and Monty and couldn’t help thinking of the mules in Venezuela taking books to children. She knew that mules, horses, donkeys, and ponies had been used everywhere for centuries to carry the needs of people and cultures. Somehow she felt connected.

“Hey, you made it!” Martie called.

Their parents were already unloading the trucks. Anita stared around at the open plot where Forestry students were planting seedlings. In no time, they started unpacking the mules and ponies, lining up their cargo with the rest of the plants. With the animals tethered and enjoying a hay feed, the children sank to the ground and rested with ice-cold drinks from the cooler.

Suddenly a phone rang.

They stopped and stared, dumbfounded, as Gramps pulled out his Blackberry. Mom and Grandma grinned. Anita caught the look and in a flash knew they’d planned something.

“Hola Carlos!” boomed Gramps. “¿Como estas?” A pause. “Bien.”

As he rattled on in Spanish to Carlos, Matt suddenly grinned.

“He’s talking to his friend in Venezuela! That is so COOL!”

Gramps beckoned to Anita. “While we were coming up the hill with trees, Carlos was walking up the mountain in Venezuela with Chiquito and Cenizo with books. He just arrived in El Calembe and there’s someone who wants to say hello.”

Anita gasped and slowly took the phone. She hesitated. She didn’t know Spanish. But Gramps had said…
“Hola?” she began nervously.

A young girl on the other end was just as nervous. “Hello. A…Anita,” she said. “Me llamo Maria…”
“Hola Maria,” grinned Anita with more confidence. “¿Como estas?”

“Bien.” Maria paused then read something in English to Anita. She could tell she’d practiced a lot. “We are apart a long way. But we are alike. We both use our mulas to make our world better.”

“You are right.” Anita paused, stared at Gramps as he mouthed the translation. “Tienes razon mi amigo, Maria.”
“Gracias Anita.”

Gramps took the phone and spoke swiftly to Carlos. Everyone said hola to Maria. It was thrilling to be connected to another culture, another country, at the top of a mountain.

Anita smiled as she stroked Penny. From the moment Gramps had been bumped by a branch, a world of good things had happened.

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