Little Girls, Big Horses Go Through Their Paces

Outside, the only action was a tousled mare chewing on a splintering fence post.

Inside the arena at Sunwood Farms on South Sullivan, though, things were hopping - no, cantoring. Arabian horses were cantoring, to be exact.

Seven helmeted girls rode circles into the dirt of the indoor arena floor, grinning and giggling. Parents watched from a warm, windowed perch with walls that looked like they belonged inside a ski lodge.

Saturday practice hadn’t begun yet. This was warm-up time for the horses. “Just like an athlete,” owner Shirley Tesdal explained.

In a hallway lined with stalls, Arabians peeked out from behind bars, snorting at the people walking by. The air was tinged with the ammonia smell of a barn.

One horse introduced himself, poking his muzzle through an opening in his stall. Running her hands over his dark mane, Betty Baker introduced the stallion as Secret Agent. His dad was Secret Service.

Baker loves it here. It’s where she first took up riding when she was still in grade school, just like the girls in the arena. “Everybody thinks Shirley is my mom,” she joked.

Now, at 19, she gives lessons herself. She says her lifelong hobby kept her out of trouble growing up.

“We don’t have any kids that have ever been in trouble,” Tesdal said proudly. She makes sure her riders get good grades in school, too. “It’s a requirement. We expect that here.”

The friendly Arabians are the perfect horses for kids, the Sunwood folks claim. Centuries of living under the same tents as nomadic human families make for a friendly breed.

“They’re the only horses in the Bible, and they’re thousands of years old,” waxed Tesdal.

“They were bred by Bedouins in the desert,” echoed Baker.

Walk into a corral full of the horses, Tesdal joked, and “they’re in your hair, your pockets, everything. They’re all over you.”

The Arabians in the arena, though, were pacing in circles, a kid bobbing atop each. Baker stepped inside, walked to the middle to avoid getting stepped on, and took charge.

“Hey ladies! Out on the rail!” she hollered gently. “Let’s pick up a jog. Easy. That’s the way.”

They trotted one direction. “Reverse!” They U-turned and trotted the other. Someone, somewhere, fired up the music system with something suspiciously like Kenny G.

“They play this at assemblies,” a girl giggled.

They stopped for a second. Breath rose in twin streams from furry muzzles; horse flanks sent up sheets of steam.

Inside the warm loft, moms drank coffee and watched, surrounded by copies of the Arabian Horse Times.

“My girl has the black horse,” Sheri Boito said, pointing to Jenifer.

“My girl has the red blanket,” Shannon Keefe said, pointing to Niki. Both moms were awaiting their lessons later that day. It looked like they couldn’t wait. The laughter of the girls below grew so loud that everyone could hear it threw the window. Something sure must be fun.

“They’re doing figure-eights,” Tesdal said.

Everyone smiled.

, DataTimes MEMO: Valley Snapshots is a regular Valley Voice feature that visits gatherings in the Valley. If you know of a good subject for this column, please call editor Mike Schmeltzer at 927-2170.