13/07/2026
Snowman đ¤
Snowman came into my life in December.
I was told he was useless. Dangerous. That he couldnât be bitless, couldnât be ridden by kids, and was one of the worst horses they had ever worked with. There were only negative words spoken about him.
But I saw something different.
I saw a horse who could jump, who moved beautifully, and who just needed a chance. So he was given to me.
He arrived underweight, shut down and exhausted. He had been ridden long distances in that condition. The first thing we did was slow everything down. He came home, stayed close, and we focused entirely on his health. His teeth were done immediately, a nutritionist was involved, and no one was allowed to work with him until he was ready.
About a month later, he was healthy and strong enough to start work.
Thatâs when his story really began.
I started at liberty. No force and no pressure, just connection. He was allowed to choose us. Slowly, he softened. He melted into the gentlest, most affectionate and loving horse.
He was never what people had called him. He had simply never been understood.
We started teaching him to jump in-hand. He was clumsy, unsure and still figuring out his body, but he tried. He was never punished for making mistakes. He was praised for trying, and he kept trying.
Nix was the first to try him. She saw him before he was ready, before he was understood, and she stayed. From there, when he returned she became a huge part of his foundation. She was patient, consistent and kind. She taught him so much of what he would go on to become.
His first show was with Little B.
They competed at 30cm and 40cm. He was brave, tried his heart out, and that was all we ever wanted from him. Whether there were rosettes hardly mattered. It was the beginning of Snowman believing in himself.
Soon afterwards, he stepped into SANESA with Nix at 50cm.
She fell in their first class. Then she got back up and went on to win the rest.
She later wrote:
âIf you fall, get up, because you never know what might happen next.â
That became part of Snowmanâs story too.
Nix was the first rider to try him and continued teaching him so much of what he knew. She had hundreds of photographs and videos from the very beginning that showed just how deeply she loved him.
At home, we were still working hard on his health. He had improved, but he wasnât gaining enough weight despite reaching the maximum amount of feed we could safely give him. Together, our nutritionist, vet and I decided to treat him for ulcers.
From there, everything changed.
He grew shiny and fat. For a while he proudly rocked the pregnant look and even needed a diet. We were over the moon.
All that remained was to build his muscle, topline and strength.
And he did.
Snowman stopped being the clumsy horse who struggled over poles on the ground. He began to soar comfortably and with scope over 60cm and 70cm.
Summer, a quiet and sometimes nervous rider, found something extraordinary in him.
With Snowman, she never felt nervous, even when things went wrong. They took to one another like glue, with a quiet and unspoken trust between them.
Together, they achieved Snowmanâs personal best of 80cm.
The line of jumps was still difficult for him, but he trusted her enough to try. She gave him confidence and love, and he gave the same back to her.
Shortly afterwards, Isla who already loved Snowy dearly helped him achieve another personal best over a single 90cm jump.
Isla was also the familiar, kind face who took him into his first Western mounted games. His steering was still green and his body was stiff, but she gave him the positive beginning he needed in a completely new discipline.
Maddie then took him on.
She was quiet, talented and patient. Although it was difficult at first, she stayed with him throughout the show, helping him find clarity, understanding and confidence in his body.
I will always be grateful for the patience, skill and love she gave him.
Between all these milestones, Snowman was also carrying beginners.
He helped new riders learn. He gave them slowness, steadiness and confidence. He quietly became one of the biggest emotional-support horses in the yard.
He loved attention and scratches. He would gently close his eyes and bury his head into anyone who needed him.
Snowy always made his riders feel something.
A friend who was going through a difficult time and felt she had lost herself found herself again during a free ride with Snowman just cantering around, playing and falling back in love with where it all began.
He reminded us to appreciate horses for who they are, not only for what they can do.
He still carried fears from his past.
He had been terrified of Western tack. He once stood shaking in a corner and pushed past me to escape when I approached him with a bosal. That was the only âuglinessâ I ever saw in him, and even then, it wasnât ugliness.
It was fear.
He also distrusted men and once kicked when he felt chased. But with patience and kindness, he started to overcome those fears too. He began showing love there as well.
And then, eventually, I had the honour of riding him.
Until then, all his ridden work had belonged to the students. I had been able to ride him for some time, but my mind was still stuck on the fragile horse who had arrived.
I remember apologising with every step.
Promising I would get off if he was unhappy.
Promising I would listen to him.
Promising I would never treat him like his previous life had.
And then he left me dumbstruck.
He felt like clouds.
He was light, willing and full of promise. I laughed and smiled more than I had in a long time as he floated down the long side of the dressage arena in a frame, on only his second day of ever being asked for contact.
There arenât enough words for how special that day was to me.
Snowy, you were everything and more.
I only ever had two rides on him.
On our second ride, I discovered even more of the talent and lightness waiting to be unlocked. Now that he felt connected, he responded to my seat and floated around the arena. He was aware, soft and connected.
He would have made an incredible bridleless horse.
My only regret is that I didnât use that day to feel it, even briefly, because the foundations were already there.
Snowman passed away on Saturday, 11 July, after a nine-day illness that varied between colic, diarrhoea, a stomach bug and suspected sand colic.
Despite daily veterinary visits and treatment for a week, we stabilised him but couldnât make him better or find the underlying cause.
I am grateful that he passed away at home, back where I could keep him safest.
Snowy, your love, guidance, sweetness and silliness will be forever missed.
You have taken such a huge part in so many peopleâs lives, especially mine.
Had I known our time would be so short, I would still do it all over again in a heartbeat.
You were never what they said you were.
You were kind.
Brave.
Silly.
Gentle.
Loving.
You changed lives. You healed hearts. You taught so many people, including me.
And you werenât made by one person alone.
Nix, Little B, Summer, Isla and Maddie each became part of your journey. Each of them helped you become the horse everyone fell in love with, and you became part of who they were too.
I will forever love you, my Snow Snow. đ¤
