Greetings! My name is Candice M. Burger and I'm "BigJ". There's a story behind how that happened and I'll tell it to you as soon as I get the chance.

Who am I? Well, sometimes I wonder about that more often than I should admit out loud! I've had pasos since 1972 and counting. I grew up in Atlanta, Georgia, USA, begging for a pony and then a horse since I can remember. The day my parents announced we were moving to Puerto Rico I made them promise me a horse if they could find a way. They promised not knowing the pledge would change my life forever. Just so happened we moved onto Ramey AFB where a very active riding club was one of the many privileges the U.S. military enjoyed. My parents were civilians, USDA, but had a contract to live on Ramey. The inevitable pleasures of horse ownership soon began. My first horses weren't pasos but I learned all the basic skills of horsemanship in my years in Puerto Rico.

My family was heavily involved with gymkhanas hosted by various military bases and posts, so when we moved back to the USA, I naturally thought I'd get a Quarter Horse to continue my racing. It took less than a nanosecond to realize the paso was my breed and I've never looked back. I've ridden various breeds for short periods to help other owners, but I've never owned anything but a paso fino. It is a known fact; the paso fino breed is the BEST riding horse in the world.

Why am I here? I've been very fortunate to learn my horsemanship in a traditional way, the hard way. No lessons, no clinics, no classes. I've read allot, watched allot, tried allot, failed allot. I've come close to ruining some good horses, acted like a know-it-all when I knew nothing, have been bruised and humbled by the best--my horses. My passion is so deep I cannot imagine my life any other way. I know there was a time I could, but I can't remember it. I don't want to be with the horse, I want to be the horse. The scent, the power, the gentleness all move me in a way like nothing before.

With that type of fervor comes allot of strong experiences. In 2002, I experienced a series of tragedies and pleasures that changed my life and started me on the path I am now. I remember the day I lost my great love, Maria Anita del Caribe. Early one morning I woke up to my herd gone. Less than one-half mile from my house was a sight I'll never forget. Policemen everywhere, lights flashing, people milling about, a smashed semi truck and my horses. The semi truck struck down two of my mares killing them instantly, my stallion was injured, but the rest miraculously unhurt. It took me days after burying my mares, stitching up my stallion and taking count of what I had left that I let myself feel what is was like to have my soul ripped apart. Nothing replaces the emptiness.

A year later, about the time my mares were giving birth, my mother found out she was dying. She had been struggling with a tumor that wrapped itself around her digestive tract. She had already had one bypass surgery and had been scheduled for another. The second surgery never happened. The surgeon said there was nothing he could do, so he sent her home to die by starvation. I remember thinking in that hospital room how life takes dark turns. While my first filly was born, my mother found out she was dying. I was traveling back and forth from Florida to Tennessee at the time. I remember taking the birth sack of that filly, checking for tears and burying it where the filly's grandmother, Maria Anita, was laid. I cursed God and the devil that day for the irony life gave me. I remember the second filly's birth and still swearing, burying her birth sack over Maria Anita again. I swore I would kill this death with life. And I remember the third and last filly's birth, born only a week before my mother died. How funny that death and life find ways to meet.

I recall watching my mother fade away, me helpless to do anything. For a controlling person accustomed to changing fate by mere will I was devastated. I did what I could and it wasn't enough to save her or give her peace. In a family of men, I took charge of the nursing staff, the hiring, made sure the care was adequate, handled my household, career, and watched. I watched death and I watched birth. An end and a beginning meeting full circle. I promised myself I would never stop living and I would never abandon a challenge.

My resolve has been tested a few times since then. I remember the day another misfortune and blessing met. A very young filly had gotten pregnant and my attempts to get her to slip the fertilized egg had failed. I was now looking at a very healthy, but motherless foal when the dam, too young to have any mothering ability, refused the foal. I recall taking a recently weaned mare to the filly, watching the mare readily accept this strange foal as her own birth daughter immediately. I still hear the concern in my life partner's voice as he tried to talk me out of keeping the foal and then pleaded with me to get some sense. It is not being with the horse, it is being the horse. As many of you will hear me say time and again, I can't be something I'm not. I can't abandon my morality for a job or relationship. I can't simply walk away because of inconvenience, hardship, or pain. I can't be less than what I can be. Life and death, a beginning and an ending taught me that there is nothing to fear in this life. I am still haunted as to why I chose to risk my career and relationship to save the filly, to live in a tent for months away from home. I spent many sleepless nights watching the filly drink her milk, watching my mare care for her, wondering why. I'm not a prayerful person, but one night, a particularly clear, calm, peaceful night when I stumbled out to feed the filly I was answered. The words are still heard in my mind today. I did it because I could and because I cared. It had nothing to do with work, home, family, nothing to do with my horses. It had everything to do with life.

Why did I tell you this story? After that very clear, calm night when my question was answered about why, I knew I couldn't continue to ignore my involvement with my horses. I can't pretend I don't care about what happens at all levels. I will do what it takes for the breed to flourish. It is not about being with the horse, it is being the horse.

All of this has struck me in an odd way that my mother died while my mares gave birth. That the last filly born whom I named to honor my mother behaved as my mother had in youth, that I thought Maria Anita was dead but her daughters continue to fill her role nurturing the herd and the young abandoned filly looked like Maria Anita's first. Funny too that all of this happened at a time when I was ready to sell out for the last time because I saw the Paso Fino fading, dying the way my mother had. It broke my heart to see something I cared about wither up. Now that I have experienced real hardship, what I'm about to get involved in is nothing.

I'm here because I can and because I care.