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@kylie.ehnisz
I was raised on a ranch in southwest Saskatchewan, so I’ve always been connected to this lifestyle in one way or another. Today, I work on a ranch in southern Alberta, though there’s been plenty of time spent living and working in town along the way. No matter where life has taken me, horses have always been a constant—central to my identity and daily life.
Leaving home and spending time with different people exposed me to a wide range of horsemanship and stockmanship styles. I became especially fascinated by traditional gear: hackamores, spade bits, fine braided romal reins, and the horses that carry them with such grace and purpose.
My fiancé is a saddle maker and braider, and it was through him that I learned the basics of braiding—probably because I kept borrowing his gear. With his help and encouragement, I took on a few small projects and quickly discovered I had a natural feel for it. From there, I dove headfirst into learning more.
I’ve always been my own toughest critic. While that perfectionism can sometimes be a challenge, I also believe it’s been essential to my growth. I notice every detail I could’ve done better, which pushes me to improve. Celebrating my successes doesn’t always come naturally—it’s something I’m still learning. The phrase “do your best” is always on repeat in my head. And while my best might not always feel good enough in the moment, I’m learning that every effort is a step forward—and each time, I have the chance to do better than before.
@Forest.land
I was raised by city folks in the concrete sprawl of a big city, far removed from the pastures and paddocks I longed for. But I never let that stop me. I caught the horse bug early, and once it bit, I was determined to never let it go. I got my first horse at ten years old, and from that point on, I took every opportunity I could to be around horses.
There weren’t any horse people in my family—no ranchers, cowhands, or farmers—so I’ve had to carve out my own path. As a young adult, I was incredibly fortunate to be surrounded by generous people who took the time to teach me the ways of ranching. Learning how to use an ear tag knife at 23 was humbling, but that late start gave me a deep respect for the lifestyle and the people who live it.
To me, being a cowgirl—or a cowboy—isn’t a trend, it’s a commitment. It’s about how much dirt you’re willing to eat and how deep you’re willing to dig, no matter your background. It’s not about where you come from—it’s about how hard you’re willing to work to earn your place in it.