Page 25 of Eyes Like a Hurricane

“Tucker and Noah are in the barn office with Finn, so Chloe is welcome to stay with them,” I say with a smile. “So, as I told you this morning, all the horses are named after weather. You get Hurricane. My boy is Thunder. Callum’s horse is a beautiful gray stallion named Tornado. Noah rides a beige stallion named Lightning. We have a horse for each instructor and member of the team. We also have three very gentle giants who work strictly with our therapy clients.”

In whispered awe, she says, “This place is stunning. I love your barn. Can we go in and meet the animals?”

My heart swells with pride and I feel my spine pull straighter. I smile down at her and give her hand a little squeeze. “Sure, sweetheart. Let’s go inside. I have Thunder and Hurricane saddled up, but you can look in all the stalls. Each horse has theirname plate hanging on the outside of their door. I’ll just load some extra water and a blanket into my saddlebag while you look around.”

I watch as she slowly makes her way from stall to stall. She peers in at each horse. The horses who are curious to meet the new person in their barn are rewarded with nose rubs and neck scratches. Ingrid’s horse, Skye, takes an immediate liking to Aislinn. I can hear her whispering words of praise to each horse. When she gets to the last two stalls, finding them empty, she looks up to meet my eyes. I was too busy watching her glide about the barn. I have been rooted in place and haven't moved an inch. I still have the two bottles of water in my hand and the blanket draped over my shoulder.

Smirking, she says, “I thought you were going to put those in your saddlebag, cowboy.”

I chuckle and shake my head. I was caught red-handed gazing at this beautiful woman, moving through my domain. I want to tell her it’s not my fault, but I’m not sure that’s a valid excuse.

We make our way to the horses. Time to introduce her to Hurricane. Her chestnut coat glistens in the sunlight filtering through the barnwood. She is wonderful with people and does great on trail rides. “Aislinn, meet Hurricane. She is an amazing horse,” I say. “She is a 12-year-old Irish Thoroughbred and a retired racing horse. After years as a successful racehorse, I purchased her to give her a life of relaxation out here at the ranch.”

Aislinn smiles at the horse, who immediately sticks her nose into Aislinn’s waiting palm. With her eyes closed, she runs her fingers up the side of Hurricane’s nose, gently rubbing beneath the bridle. As her fingers make their way to Hurricane’s neck, she steps in closer and rests her head against the horse’schestnut cheek. They are bonding right before my eyes. Aislinn opens her eyes and continues to stroke Hurricane’s velvet neck. She moves toward the powerful shoulder until she is at eye level with the saddle.

Placing her right boot in the stirrup, she bounces on the ball of her left foot. In one effortless motion, she glides into the saddle. Once she's comfortably seated, she leans over and tangles her fingers into Hurricane’s coarse mane. After giving her a few braids, she gently pats her withers. The horse accepted her as quickly as I did. When she finishes praising Hurricane, she sits up and looks at me expectantly.

“That was amazing to watch,” I whisper.

Aislinn smiles softly and replies, “I’ve always loved horses but never had one of my own. This meant I always had to gain trust quickly with each new horse I met. Horses are magnificent creatures. They instinctively know I mean them no harm. Are you ready to ride?”

I nod and make my way over to Thunder. After adjusting the saddlebag, I climb into my saddle and look behind me at Aislinn making her way toward the doors. The glow of the setting sun backlights her. The aura from the sun wraps around her figure astride Hurricane. At this moment, she looks like a goddess on horseback, Epona in the flesh.

“Come on, Thor, lead the way,” she taunts, biting her lower lip and winking at me.

I click my tongue and set off toward Topaz Ridge Trail. She is in for a real treat tonight. It’s around 5:00 p.m., so we should be arriving as the sun starts to dip lower toward the horizon.

As we walk along the trail, I see her take in all the sights of the ranch. From where we are climbing, you can look back and see the entire layout of the farm. It’s a beautiful sight. Thestructures stand proud against the honey-colored pastures. The fences look like a track of ants marching to keep a straight line.

After a few minutes of silence, Aislinn asks, “Is it okay to ask you why? What made you start Ambarsan Equine Therapy Ranch?”

I look back and smile encouragingly. “Of course, I’ve been excited to tell you about the ranch all day. About fifteen years ago, Ingrid and I watched our cousin return from Iraq with terrible PTSD. After struggling for a year, he started going to a ranch near his home in Wyoming. The psychotherapy paired with equine therapy provided him with life-changing help. He still struggles from time to time, but for the most part, he can live a normal and fulfilling life,” I explain.

She tilts her head to the side and looks up into the dense pine branches before thoughtfully responding, “Is your ranch based on similar techniques to the ranch your cousin attended?”

“In some ways yes, and in other ways, no. We use equine-assisted physical therapy and psychotherapy. It’s still considered experimental to many psychiatrists, but lots of people have benefited from this experience. The connection our clients create with the horses decreases their stress levels and reduces anxiety. The horses help promote a calm environment. Horses are large animals, like gentle giants. They help our clients feel safe and protected, giving them a space to explore and regain the mental control they feel is missing or lacking in their daily lives,” I say, glancing at her to make sure she is still interested.

With a smile, she requests, “Tell me more about the fiber work you do.”

I grin, as this is an area that most therapy ranches haven’t tried yet. I feel it sets us apart. “Well, we have a trained staff member who knows how to properly shear sheep. Shearing sheep can give the veteran a sense of accomplishment as youcan see the results of the shearing immediately. The sound also helps with desensitizing them to noises. Some say buzzing noises and even drones trigger their PTSD. Working with the electric trimmers slowly retrains their brain that they are safe. To keep the shearing a low-stress task for the sheep, Doc MacAllen has always been present during the shearing to make sure the sheep are not in distress. We go slowly and methodically to remove their wool layer.”

She nods, “So do the same vets who shear the sheep spin it too? Each sheep probably gives about seven to ten pounds of wool, right?”

“Some do, yes,” I say. “But others don’t have the patience for the spinning process. Frida, the owner of Topaz Fiber Barn, our local yarn shop, teaches them how to clean and spin the wool. Once the raw wool is spun into hanks, she sells them in her shop, and the proceeds go back into our program. We have six sheep, so we get between forty-five to sixty pounds of wool each shearing season.”

Thoughtfully, she asks, “How many hanks of yarn do you get out of the sheep?”

I look off toward the river running off to our left, thinking about the calculations. “If I remember right, we get about seven hundred to one thousand yards per pound of wool. Each hank is about two hundred and fifty yards, so we get three to four hanks per pound. Each sheep gives us about thirty hanks. She sells them at fifteen dollars per hank. During a good tourist season, we can make between two thousand and three thousand dollars for the program. This helps supply the sheep with food and bedding. It also allows us to make repairs to their fencing and barn.”

With a huge smile, Aislinn says, “I love that. What an amazing program you have here, Lachlan. Is there a stitch night or a knitting club?”

“Oh, yeah,” I chuckle, “Frida has quite a group for Fridays with Frida down at the shop. She comes out for an hour on most Mondays, when her shop is closed, to work with any vets who want to use knitting as part of their therapy program. She has been volunteering for the last year. Ingrid is a talented knitter and best friends with Frida, so between the two of them, they can help answer any questions or fix any errors.”

“I love to knit,” she sighs. “Do you think I could join the knitting club or volunteer here in the fiber therapy sessions this fall?”

Could this woman be any more perfect? I’m amazed she is showing such passion toward my life’s work. This therapy ranch has taken my heart and soul to get up and running, so her enthusiasm for what we are trying to do means a lot to me.

I clear my throat. “Of course. Any time you are free, I’m sure we can work it out. Thank you.”

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