Friends of Ranger

Horses at the Ranger Foundation are honored to receive monetary donations given in memory or honor of someone special, either two- or four- legged, by the donor. 

Here are a few of their stories:

Mrs. Anne White
Baroque

Dear Ranger Foundation,

 I have enclosed a donation to The Ranger Foundation in honor of my first and most influential riding instructor, Mrs. Ann White.  She was my teacher over 50 years ago and has remained a dear friend and “riding consultant” ever since.  The world lost a most knowledgeable, caring and skilled horsewoman this January of 2009.  I know she would be very pleased to learn of a contribution to help retired service horses in her honor.

 She and her husband and sons ran a most successful riding school, The Golden Eagle School of Riding, in Dalton, PA for many years.  Her school horses were her treasures and treated as such.  Every time I ride my horses, her voice echoes in my brain.  “Every time you put your foot in the stirrup, you should learn something new!” she would comment.  She taught us the best of values related to our horses.  They always came first.  If we won a ribbon at a show, the horse’s well being and care came before any celebration.  If we didn’t win, we were never allowed to blame the horse and to whine for a better horse or a different judge.  She made us take our lumps and bumps, disappointments and frustrations along with our wins and our trophies.  If we complained that the horse was not doing what he was supposed to do, she commented every time, “Don’t tell me what’s wrong with the horse, tell me what you, the rider, are doing to correct it.”  After a trail ride or a ring lesson, the horses were immediately walked, cooled, given a sip of water, walked more, untacked, brushed and bedded deeply in their stalls.  Then, and only then, were we allowed to get a soda or a cookie.  Mrs. White taught us to respect the horse and to be so honored by that magnificent bond we shared with them and the wonderful gift that they gave us, neither to be taken for granted or lightly.  There was no room for temper.  She taught that if things were not going well in the saddle and we were becoming frustrated and angry, dismount, put the horse up and walk away.  Anger and riding, anger and horses did not mix.  “Wait until a cooler head prevails,” she would say.

 She was never satisfied to simply teach us to ride.  We learned the parts of the horse, the parts of the bridle and the saddle.  We learned to check our saddles before using them.  We learned how to explain to the vet what seemed to be wrong with our mount.  She would have been appalled at some Medal Classes where the participants thought that a throatlatch was a scarf, or that a martingale was a kind of bird, or that an oxer was found in a stable.

 I remember so clearly her dearly beloved school horses when I was a child of ten.  There was New Mint, Ditto, Whiskey, Porkie, Pizza Pie, Punkin, G.I. Joe, My Little Angel, June Buster, Doc.  I rode all of them at one time or another.  And I still love them as I love her.  She gave me a gift, so sweet, so precious, that I will carry it with me forever: skills to help me ride and care for my own beloved horses.  Only a few years ago, when I was having some bit problems with Rienzi, my beloved but temperamental Second Level dressage horse, one call to her, a description of the problem, and she made several suggestions.  Her first one worked and he gave me the ride of a life-time that afternoon.  I feel lost because my safety net is gone, the person to whom I could always turn about a horse-related question is gone.  Life doesn’t seem quite fair.  Mrs. White would not sympathize with me over these feelings.  She would tell me, “oh --- heck, ride your horse!  Think and figure it out, you know you can.”

 So, please give all the horses at The Ranger Foundation a hug from both of us.  I know Mrs. White is now, for sure, looking out for all service horses everywhere.  And I know heaven is filled with all our wonderful horses, and I’m very sure that Mrs. White is jumping the big oxer (she hated little jumps) on one of her favorites, right in front of those Pearly Gates.

Sincerely,  Susan Anthony-Tolbert