The beginning of a horse journey, three very different babies, and a reminder that sometimes the best plans start with a muddy paddock.
I went to look at some baby horses.
That was the plan.
Just look. Meet them. Ask questions. Learn a little more about what buying a youngster might actually involve.
You know, a perfectly reasonable afternoon.
Naturally, I came home emotionally attached to multiple horses and questioning every financial decision I've ever made.
Welcome to Meadow Row Stables. 😂
A little context, because this isn't exactly a normal horse-shopping story.
Meadow Row is still in its beginning stages.
I don't have a beautiful equestrian property yet. I don't have a barn full of horses. I don't even have my own horse.
What I do have is a very big dream, a lifelong love of horses, and a determination to build something meaningful in the equestrian world.
I'm also a returning amateur rider, which means I remember enough to know just how much I still need to learn.
And apparently, I've decided that researching the possibility of buying a foal is a reasonable addition to that learning curve.
I can already hear the experienced horse people laughing.
But hear me out.
I've been researching breeds, youngstock development, boarding, veterinary care, training, and the realities of horse ownership. I've been trying to understand what it would actually take to raise a youngster responsibly, rather than simply falling in love with a cute face and figuring everything else out afterward.
Which brings us to three little horses in Russell, Ontario.
The stable that made me pay attention
I visited Sunflower Stables to meet three foals: Tim, Smurfette, and Moose.
Before I even got a good look at them, I was impressed.
Megan welcomed me into the paddock, where the mares and their babies were hanging out together.
Nobody had to chase anything down.
Nobody had to catch a horse to convince me it was friendly.
All three mothers and their foals simply came over to investigate their new visitor.
And then came the cuddles.
I haven't visited a hundred breeding farms. I'm not going to pretend I have the experience to evaluate an entire operation in one afternoon.
But I know what I saw.
I saw relaxed mares who were comfortable with a stranger around their babies. I saw curious youngsters who willingly approached people. I watched Megan casually handle their feet and rub them in all sorts of unusual places, clearly proud of how comfortable they were with being touched.
And I learned that she'd raised some of the mares herself.
That caught my attention.
One friendly foal might just be a particularly friendly foal. Seeing that same relaxed, people-oriented behaviour across several horses and generations made me want to understand more about how she raises them.
It also made me think about the sort of environment I'd want for a horse of my own.
Not just somewhere beautiful.
Somewhere a horse can actually be a horse.
Meet Timbit: the one who caught my heart
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Tim is a 2026 Quarter Horse colt, advertised as a bay roan prospect, although his breeder now suspects he might actually be turning red roan.
For the record, I am fully prepared to support either artistic direction.
He has speed-bred Quarter Horse lines, a little white marking on his forehead, and the kind of face that makes you start mentally rearranging your entire future.
Timbit was not the most outgoing baby in the paddock.
He came over to investigate me, but he was cautious about it.
He checked me out, decided he had other important baby-horse business to attend to, and wandered away.
Then, a little while later, he came back.
I loved that.
He wasn't desperate for attention. He wasn't particularly interested in being everybody's best friend.
He seemed content to do his own thing, check in when he felt like it, and return to his mother.
Obviously, I cannot determine a horse's entire temperament from one afternoon. He's still a baby, and his personality will continue developing.
But there was something about the way he approached the world that stuck with me.
And sometimes you just meet a horse and find yourself looking for him again.
That was Timbit.
Smurfette: the little social butterfly
Then there's Smurfette.
A blue roan Quarter Horse filly with a white star and absolutely no apparent reason to believe strangers shouldn't be her friends.
She was the most social of the three.
She wanted attention, scratches, and generally to be involved in whatever was happening.
If Timbit was conducting a cautious background check, Smurfette was already inviting me to her birthday party.
She has that beautiful, substantial Quarter Horse look, and her breeder describes her as laid-back and affectionate.
I could certainly see the affectionate part.
She made me think about what it might be like to raise a horse who actively seeks out human company.
Of course, friendly babies still need to learn manners. An adorable foal who wants to stand in your personal space eventually becomes a very large horse who wants to stand in your personal space.
But there's something wonderful about an animal choosing to come over simply because it enjoys being around you.
Smurfette seems to have figured that part out already.
And then there was Moose.
Oh, Moose.
Moose is a dark Standardbred colt with long legs, a sweet face, and the potential to become an approximately 16-hand horse.
His mother, Casimir Kandy, is a registered Standardbred mare with a racing history.
His father is currently a mystery.
Megan purchased Moose and his mother through an auction, and she told me she'd encountered them at a few auctions before bringing them home.
That means Moose's early history isn't as complete as the homebred babies'.
We don't yet know his sire, and there are still questions to investigate about his registration and background.
But the little horse standing in front of me?
He was lovely.
Megan describes him as exceptionally friendly and confident. Apparently, he's so comfortable with people that when he's lying down, he'll even accept a cuddle.
A future 16-hand lap dog.
Which is adorable until you remember that the lap dog will eventually weigh approximately half a tonne.
She also told me about introducing him to a small obstacle. Rather than making a fuss about it, he casually popped over it as though that was simply what one did with obstacles.
Not a training session. Just a curious baby encountering something new.
I liked hearing that.
And I liked him.
The funny thing is, I didn't go there expecting Moose to be the horse I couldn't stop thinking about.
I went there interested in Timbit.
Moose sort of snuck up on me.
The more I learned about him, the more I watched him, and the more I thought about what kind of horse I eventually want to share my life with, the more interesting he became.
A big, dark, affectionate horse who might eventually be my riding partner?
You can see the problem.
The part where my heart and brain disagree
Here's where things currently stand.
My heart says Timbit.
My brain keeps bringing up Moose.
Timbit has that immediate emotional pull. I love his face, his colour possibilities, and the way he cautiously came back to investigate me.
Moose has been growing on me for entirely different reasons. His apparent confidence, friendliness, and potential future size are all incredibly appealing.
But Moose also comes with more questions about his history.
And Timbit, despite having a more documented pedigree, is still an infant whose adult personality, athletic ability, and suitability as a riding horse cannot be guaranteed.
Neither of them is a finished horse.
Neither of them owes me the adult horse I've imagined in my head.
That's something I'm trying very hard to remember.
It's easy to picture the future: the beautiful tack, the first rides, the horse waiting at the gate, the eventual home at Meadow Row.
It's much less glamorous to picture years of board, farrier appointments, veterinary bills, professional training, and learning how to raise a youngster without accidentally turning him into a 1,200-pound menace.
But those are part of the same dream.
And I want to be responsible about both.
What I actually learned that afternoon
I went to Sunflower Stables thinking I was evaluating three horses.
I came away realizing that I was also evaluating the kind of horse owner I want to become.
I was paying attention to how the horses were raised, how comfortable they were with people, how they interacted with one another, and how the breeder handled them.
I was thinking about whether I could leave a future youngster in that environment after weaning while I continued learning.
I was asking myself whether I wanted to buy a baby because I was ready to commit to raising one—or simply because I had fallen in love with the idea.
Those are very different things.
And I think that's an important distinction for anyone who's considering their first horse.
Especially a youngster.
You aren't just buying the horse standing in front of you today.
You're committing to caring for the horse he becomes, even if he grows differently than expected, needs more training than you anticipated, or turns out not to be suited to the discipline you originally imagined.
That's a pretty big promise to make to a baby.
So, did I buy a horse?
Not yet.
I have more questions to ask, more numbers to work through, and some very important conversations to have about veterinary examinations, boarding, registration, and the realities of raising a colt.
And I'd like to visit again.
Because as much as I want to follow my heart, I want to give whichever horse I eventually bring into my life a genuinely good one.
For now, I'm just incredibly grateful that I went.
I met three wonderful little horses, found a stable that made a lasting impression on me, and got a much clearer picture of what this next chapter might look like.
Meadow Row doesn't have its first resident yet.
But somewhere in a paddock in Russell, Ontario, there might just be a little horse who will someday help me build it.
And honestly?
I can't stop thinking about that.
— Nicole
Meadow Row Stables | Building the dream, one muddy boot at a time.
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