So, when you visit the local fairs and see people, whether young, old, or in between, riding and working their equine partners, pause a moment to appreciate the real horse magic taking place before your very eyes.

Just as any newborn, I don’t remember much from the beginning. I do remember the familiar “knicker” I knew was my mother and her warm nuzzle prodding me to stand on wobbly legs. It was too soon to wonder what my purpose was.

There was also the voice of the human who was my mother’s owner, and now my owner. I had come to know this voice as she visited our stall several times a day talking to and checking on my mother. I could tell my mother was reassured by these moments. Although I didn’t realize it until later when I was more mature and aware, the human found a calmness and solace during her time with my mother, as well. It was still too soon to realize my purpose.

Before long, there were several visitors to our stall — each smiling, cooing and fawning, “Oh, she is so cute,” or “Just look at that beautiful color,” or “She is as sweet as her mother.” What was that all about? It was about me! And soon, sensing that my mother was so proud and at ease, I welcomed the petting and fondles offered by these new friends. My purpose was beginning to take shape.

Courtesy Photo Cirrae Gagnon is loving on the new Appaloosa foal later named Vista, with mother, Prairie, munching on grass nearby.

After some time, when my legs were strong and my energy level grew, I went with my mother to the paddock where there was warm sunshine, room to kick up my heels, and new horse (and human) friends to be made. As I frolicked and played, I could hear comments from the humans at the fence and knew they were entertained and amused and, for a time, forgetting any day to day struggles they may have been having — more shaping of my purpose.

I tagged along on many trail rides with my mother and her human and other horses from the farm with their riders. I observed the connection and loyalty between horse and rider, and promised myself I would be that kind of horse when I grew up — me becoming aware of my purpose.

And grow up I did. The saddle was foreign on my back. The bridle was more restrictive than the halter I had been wearing. But over the years, I had seen my mother and the other horses patiently accepting both in anticipation of being honored to allow seasoned and “greenhorns” the opportunity to see the world from atop a horse (on this, I can only speculate and maybe a human might be better at conveying those feelings). My purpose was maturing.

I became somewhat of an expert at gauging emotions, fears, and misgivings. The nervous and timid touch of the daring little girl excited and a bit scared by my size (I grew to be quite tall); the trembling hand of the elderly gentleman remembering his younger days; the respectful smoothing hand on my flank by the busy veterinarian, who while in a time crunch to get to all his horses, was as gentle as ever; the tentative, yet sure hand of the granddaughter I had been given to and had known all my life as she processed the tumultuous teen years; the almost imperceptible touch of the autistic boy as he sensed my understanding of his need for quiet and serene; the longing in the eyes of the young woman seeking respite from her depression. Could the purpose be any clearer?

Whether in joy or in sadness, there is never a sunrise that I don’t look forward to meeting a new human who, in one way or another, I can offer some happiness or relief by just being a horse. And that is my purpose.

Courtesy Photo Chesney Reeves and her daughter Vivienne Reeves are seen petting Ariana Gagnon's mare, Brandy.

Courtesy Photo Emma Cornelius walks with Holly the horse.

Courtesy Photo Bonnie Cornelius, left, rides horses with her granddaughters Ariana Gagnon, Rose Cornelius, and Cirrae Gagnon.