Kids Horses

Growing up there were a lot of horses who touched my life & I still think of them occasionally today. All belonged to kids, but today I wonder if they were truly kids horses.

GoGo was a liver chestnut gelding of unknown heritage, probably born in the late 1950s. I had been at the stable for a few weeks before I even noticed him. His stall was almost solid board fence & 6' high. It was said he was proud cut & his disposition sure indicated there was truth to that. In reality he was a cryptorchid. Without today's medical knowledge & facilities, it was common practice to just remove the descended testicle at gelding & forget about the one hiding within the abdomen. GoGo was mean & ornery, taking a bite at anyone who came within teeth distance. His owner was a young girl named Laurie & she was the only person GoGo liked. For her he was reliable, fun horse, running & jumping at her command. One day while racing through a bamboo tunnel he stepped on a branch that snapped & flipped up, impaling GoGo in the groin area. The vet came out, cleaned the puncture & said it would heal fine. A few weeks later it had still not healed, in fact it was draining with infection. For months Lori hosed, cleaned & doctored GoGo. The infection raged. At last GoGo was taken to an equine hospital where he died on the table from the anesthesia. On necropsy a piece of the stick was found embedded deep in his groin. To this day I cringe whenever I ride through deadfall & fallen branches. Whenever I ride debris laden trails, the memory of GoGo rides with me.

Sonny was a pretty, chestnut with white mare, an arab/Tennessee Walker cross born in the late 1950s. She was a spitfire who had raised three young sisters. By the time I knew her she was on the third sister, Karen. Sonny could jump & she could buck. She really taught those sisters how to ride. By the time Karen came along she'd mellowed some, but always put in a few snorts & kicks for good measure. Sonny was gaited like the Tennessee Walker but also trotted when she felt like it. It was fun watching her gait into a jump because she looked so different from the mostly Thoroughbred jumpers at the stable. One of the things that made Sonny special was that if you pointed her at someone or something & said "sic'em Sonny", she was like a rabid dog in her charge. Be it a person, horse, dog or sheep (there were many at the stable), Sonny would attack with her teeth bared. She really seemed to enjoy being given permission to be mean. One time she chased the stable owner all the way into his office. If you were riding her & reached around to pinch her rump, she would buck until you fell off laughing. Sonny was just ornery enough to be a young girl's horse, & her young girls grew up to be just as ornery.

High Voltage, aka Watts, was a fiery black mare of unknown heritage. She was probably part Thoroughbred & looked like she had some Saddlebred in there as well. She was born mid to late 1950s. She was owned & ridden by a girl we called Crazy Lori. I don't know whether Watts was crazy because of her owner, or whether Lori was crazy from riding Watts. I can still occasionally here her screeching voice yell Wattsy from across the stable. Watts was probably the highest jumper at the stable, but she was also the most inconsistent. Some days she'd fly & others she'd send her rider through the fence without her. That horse could stop on a dime when she decided she didn't want to jump. She only had one speed & that was full out gallop. Riding her into a jump was always scary because you never knew if she'd take off or slide stop. Eventually Lori traded Watts to another girl at the stable. It was unfortunate because the other girl got the worse of the deal. One day the new owner of Watts, Jackie, was jumping & all was going well. Then Watts did her infamous slide stop in front of a brush jump (solid tree stumps encased in wood with branches out the top). Jackie hit the jump head first & was unconscious for a few minutes. My mom had Jackie lay down in our tackroom until the paramedics arrived. In the meantime, Mr Harris had someone come get me to ride Watts over that fence. He knew I'd get on her. I used the whip on that mare all the way into the fence, sitting my butt tight, waiting to see if we go over or through. I didn't much care which as long as I stayed on. At the last second Watts lifted off & we soared over the jump. She must have known that I wasn't going to let her stop even if it meant crashing that jump. Years later I was to wonder if Mr Harris thought I was also crazy. Why else would he have had me ride Watts that day?

Royal Hassan was a bright chestnut, trimmed in white, 1/2 arab gelding who was born mid 1960s. His owner was Leslie, better known around the stable as SockItToMe. Hassan was very pretty as he pranced & danced when SockItToMe rode him. He sailed over jumps with no effort & could compete with the much bigger Thoroughbreds. He always had his tail flagging over his back while he snorted his way around the arena. Hassan was very pretty to watch, but not always fun to ride. He was the spookiest horses at the stable & he was very good at leaping 10' sideways as he leaped just as high into the air. I know of at least 3 times that he spooked SockItToMe off bad enough that she was unconscious & the paramedics were called. Only once did she go to the hospital & that was only because she was still unconscious when she was lifted into the ambulance. It would be many years before I owned & learned that not all arabs are crazy.

I've never been fond of ponies & am still convinced they are not the mounts for children. There were many at the stable when I was young & almost all were as mean & ornery as they come. There was the appy Indian pony who ran away every time her owner got on. It didn't matter if she was saddled or bareback, she would run away for 3-4 laps of the arena before she would behave. There was a chestnut & white pinto pony who would buck everytime he was ridden. It would take 5-10 minutes before he'd behave. The black & white pony was a kicker. It didn't matter who or what walked by him, he'd kick. Most of the ponies were in a perpetual state of pinned ears & bared teeth. Ponies were, & still are, the scourge of the equine world in my opinion. To be fair though, I'm sure most of the problems were because adults were too big to break them & young girls had too much fun teasing them. Still I've never owned a pony &, dare I say it, never will.

Comanche

Dark bay gelding of unknown heritage
Born early '60s

Today I shake my head & tsk tsk when I hear of a parent who buys a 5 year old, barely broke horse for their child's first horse. Forty-odd years ago that's just what my parents bought me.

We had gone to the recommended horsetrader at Leo's Stable in Artesia. I don't know if we looked at more than one horse that day or not. All I really remember is that I finally had a horse of my own. I named him Comanche. He was dark bay with little white & was most likely a quarter horse or quarter horse/thoroughbred cross (which is what we were told). He supposedly came from a family with kids who'd raised him in their backyard. Knowing what I know today, he most likely came through the most recent auction. We bought him late on a Sunday & the trader delivered him on Tuesday. Definitely one of the longest 48 hours of my life. When Comanche arrived at the stable one of his knees was very swollen. Leonard said he probably fell in the trailer & to go ahead & ride him because he wasn't lame. Ride him I did, with what had to be the biggest grin ever. He didn't turn very good, nor did he stop very good. But boy did he go. He even did a little jumping when I could get him turned towards a jump. In fact one time a friend was on him when he ran away & jumped over some barrels. All I could do was laugh. I don't think she ever got on another horse. I had so much fun on Comanche & knew he was mine forever. After I'd had him a month the stable owner, Mr Harris, convinced my mother that Comanche should be returned to the horsetrader because the swollen knee never did go down. He never was lame so I couldn't understand why I couldn't keep him. I don't know how long I sobbed but it did no good. My first horse was picked up by the horsetrader the next weekend. I remember petting Comanche's face before he loaded on the truck & telling him I would never love another horse. As the truck pulled out of the stable I sobbed to Comanche, Vaya Con Dios.

I've loved other horses through the years, but have never forgotten my first. It seems silly now that a young girl would say Vaya Con Dios to her lost horse, but I'm sure at the time it was my way of being very dramatic. Those simple words also seemed to have romanticized Comanche in the way only a first horse can be romanticized. While today I know he probably had a different ending than the young me believed, I still have hope that he lived a happy life with someone who loved him as much as I.

Native Diver

Registered brown Thoroughbred gelding 1959-1967

(Imbros x Fleet Diver)

Native Diver was the first race horse to capture my heart. He was the first California bred millionaire but that wasn't what drew me to him. He was big, almost black & magnificent. He ran like the wind & was the fantasy horse of a young girl's dreams. I was so very fortunate to live in S CA, not far from Hollywood Park & Santa Anita race tracks. Even luckier was that I could occasionally talk my mother into taking me to the tracks to watch the morning work outs. Watching those impressive horses run was enough to take my breath away. I was awestruck as they flew past the rail, splattering us with dirt. I could have hung on that rail for days, just watching them run. I still today watch horse racing on tv every chance I get, but in the 1960s there was more racing televised than there is today. It was easier to follow a favorite horse. I watched The Diver, as he was called, run as often as he was on tv. I also read about his races in the newspaper. No one cheered more for him than I. I can still remember the thrill of seeing him person. I'd read in the paper that The Diver was going to go on parade at Hollywood Park. I don't remember how much begging & pleading & promising to do chores it took, but my mother took me to see him. It was probably the most exciting day of my young life. After the morning work outs were done, here came that big, brown,almost black horse prancing around the track. He knew he was on display & he made the most of it. The thought of him that day still catches my breath. I can still see the look in his eye & imagine the fire I saw there. He was awesome & he knew it. It wasn't long after that The Diver died. He was the first horse I ever cried over. I still have news clippings of his death packed away & every few years I come across them & remember. I remember a young girl's love for the fastest horse alive.

Taurali Belle

Registered Arabian mare 5/17/81-1/22/06
(Muhuli x Aurabell)

I fell in love with Belle before I ever met her. I'd long been an admirer of Abu Farwa bred horses & had been keeping an eye out for a good broodmare. One day in Sept 2002, I was browsing the rescue sites & listed on one was a 21 year old mare who was not only an Abu Farwa granddaughter, but also an Aurab granddaughter. Does it get any better than that?! This was as close in a pedigree as either of these great sires get in today's bloodlines. I immediately emailed Belle's owner & told her that I would take the mare sight unseen. I was jumping out of my skin in anticipation & with the anxiety that she might already have been placed. It was a few long minutes before I got the reply I was hoping for, Belle was mine. All I had to do was get a check in the mail & make arrangements for transport. There were a few moments when I questioned the sanity of buying this old mare. Especially since I hadn't even see a picture of her. But it was too late for self doubt because Belle was now mine.

I did a little research on her & found that she had shipped from Canada in April 2002, only a month before foaling. She had just weaned her filly & I wondered what condition she was in. I was told that after her trip down from Canada she spent a lot of time laying down & didn't move around much, which I assumed was fatigue from the long trip added to the weight of her pregnancy, but I didn't know. While records showed her as only having a couple of owners, she had been on numerous breed leases over the years. Her number of foals was unknown because I'd heard she'd been used in a part-arab breeding program for a few years. I also later found out that she'd lost a colt & can only guess that she lost others as the result of her SCID carrier status. She was in her prime before there was a genetic test for this fatal defect. Belle had been passed around & I'd been told she wasn't a very personable mare. That didn't matter because I was so excited, I couldn't wait for her to arrive. Finally the day came when the shipper arrived. Since the trailer was too large to fit in my drive, I unloaded Belle on the street. My heart was pounding, my hands were shaking, & I felt like I had living history at the end of the lead. My emotions as I led her up my drive are still indescribable today. I was just too filled with emotion & was more in love with Belle than I thought possible. She was a magnificent old mare with a lot of body & substance. She had some of the best bone I've ever seen on an arab. Basically she was fabulous.

Upon arrival I had my vet come check Belle because her hind legs were severely swollen & she was bleeding vaginally. A little reason had set in & I was doubting my sanity. It turned out that she had vaginal varicose veins that caused no more trouble than keeping her on hormones when pregnant to prevent bleeding. The swelling in her legs went down as she wandered my pasture. There were many days when I looked across the pasture at her & could hardly believe she was mine. Belle & I built a bond, beginning when I was able to reach out & scratch her butt. Boy did she enjoy that & ever after she would come looking for her scratches. She proved to be personable once she knew she was home at last. Belle gave me a really nice filly in 2004. In 2005 she was bred again in hopes of a replacement filly because this time she was bred to a stallion of similar pedigree to carry her old bloodlines forward. The prospects of that foal were exciting & I couldn't wait for spring 2006 to arrive. Unfortunately January 2006 arrived with heartbreak. Maybe it was the slick ground, maybe it was a wrong step, either way we'll never know. Belle broke a hind leg just 6 weeks from her due date. It was a very traumatic, somber day. It was a Sunday & no vet could be located. I fully expected that I would have to send her to greener pastures myself. I was in a daze as I walked to the house for the gun. I don't know what made me look in the phone book one more time, but I did & found an old local vet who came right out. For that I'm thankful. Belle was such a regal old girl, never trying to get up & staying calm throughout. My heart broke as I told her I would always love her. She still fills a place in my heart today.

Riding the Rough Stock

I firmly believe that parents should be very careful with what they do with their toddlers. Some of the cute ideas might not be so cute when that toddle grows up. The things that parents do with their toddlers can have a lasting impact on their lives. A case in point is my first bronc ride.

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Decades ago Knott's Berry Farm had no admission charges. It was a great place for families to spend the day without breaking the bank. Of course there were a few "western" type rides, like the train ride through the haunted mine & the stagecoach, that had ticket fees, but for the most part Knott's Berry Farm was a very inexpensive family outing. A day of fun that the average family could afford. There was a photo shop where you could have pictures taken with western props. One of these props was a black & white bucking horse. My thoughts looking back are ewwwwwww, because it was a real stuffed horse. But it did make for great pictures. I'm sure my parents gave no thought to what "riding" that bronc would do to their little, toddling, blond girl. If I say so myself, it is a cute picture. Unfortunately I think that cute bronc ride not only gave me a love of rodeo, it set me up for a life time of seeking the equine adrenaline rush.

I must have been 15 or 16 when I rode my first bronc, although at the time no one realized Red was a bronc. A stable friend, Sue, was getting a new horse. The one she had was too green for a novice so her parents took her to the local horsetrader to trade in her horse. I went along because not only did I love window shopping at Leonard's, Sue's parents wanted me to try out horses before they let their daughter on them. The horse Sue fell in love with that day was a big chestnut gelding she named Red. After a couple of days settling in to his new home, Sue started riding him. The only problem was that he immediately bucked her off. For a week I rode Red in the bullpen, an enclosed roundpen deep with sand. I wore a crop out on his hide as he continued to buck. Every time he buck, I whacked. Finally after a few days he settled into a nice, easy going ride. Sue didn't tell her parents any of this & she hadn't gotten on Red since he threw her. By week's end I had her on him in the bullpen, walking sedately. Then Saturday came & her dad wanted to see her ride. After a short while her dad asked why she didn't him in the arena. She told him that she wasn't ready to ride in the arena with other horses but that I would. I had a bad feeling but into the arena I went on Red. All went well until I got to the far end & then all hell broke loose. His head went down, he squalled & off we went in a bucking frenzy. I could see Sue's dad waving his arm, screaming for me to stop. I knew Red & I were going over the top of him. I finally managed to run Red into the fence to stop him. What a ride! Suffice it to say that Sue's dad had the horsetrader on the phone within minutes & Leonard promised to deliver a safer horse immediately. We later learned that Red had come from the auction the night before Sue got him. In all fairness, Leonard did tell Sue's dad this & that he knew nothing about the horse. What else we learned was that Red WAS an old bronc who had been ridden by a few too many cowboys. Obviously he had been drugged & that was why he was so placid the day we tried him out. Red was an ex-rodeo horse who still wanted to rodeo.

In my early twenties I decided that I wanted to try girls' rodeo. The only trouble was there weren't any around S CA. So I went to some open rodeo buck-outs. Buck-outs are practices prior to the real rodeo. The first bareback bronc I ever got on was called Rocket. And boy do I know why. That horse was out of the chute so fast & high that I don't even remember leaving the chute. All I knew was that I was on the ground looking up at the sky. I attempted a few more broncs over the next few weeks. I even managed to stay on for the 8 second ride most of those. The only trouble was that you still had to hit the dirt to get off. The weekend before the rodeo I had drawn a horse named Pogo Stick. A big chestnut mare. Not long before my ride, the buck-out organizer told the few of us girls that we could no longer ride. Something about their liability insurance only covering card carrying cowboys. We were mad but could do nothing about it & Pogo Stick was redrawn by a card carrying cowboy. Hindsight said that was my good fortune. When Pogo Stick left the chute that cowboy (I no longer remember his name) went up & up & then came down very hard. He lay still & everyone held their breath. He was taken away on a stretcher. He had broken his neck. I can still see Pogo Stick bucking up into the air & that cowboy hitting the ground. I got lucky that day. Maybe that kind of adrenaline rush wasn't what I needed after all. I can't say I've never been on another bucking horse, but I can say I've never gotten on another professional bronc.

Alysheba

Registered Thoroughbred, bay, 3/3/84-3/27/09
1987 Kentucky Derby & Preakness winner

In 1978 I was cheering for Alydar, the chestnut wearing #10, to win the Kentucky Derby, Preakness & Belmont races. While the nation watched & rooted for Affirmed (who became a Triple Crown winner), I was an Alydar fan. When Alysheba, a son of Alydar, hit the racing world it was easy for me to become his fan. Every time I saw that bay horse run I cheered for him. I don't think anyone screamed at the tv louder than I when Alysheba ran & won the Kentucky Derby in 1987. I cheered him on for his Preakness win & again in his failed attempt to win the Belmont. He was a great horse who eventually ended up being inducted along side his sire, Alydar, in the National Museum of Racing & Hall of Fame.

Fast forward to late 2008. Alysheba comes home to America & will live his remaining years at the Kentucky Horse Park in Lexington. Such exciting news for me because I have to be in Louisville in Feb 2009. There's no question that I'll make the trip to Lexington to see one of my equine idols. It was a cold day when I personally met Alysheba. He had already been turned out into the paddock for his daily "out time". His stall had his name plate on the door. As a friend & I walked up the aisle to the Champion Barn, I knew that the bay horse in the paddock was Alysheba. He was clothed in a blanket that went to his knees & a hood to keep him warm in the cold Kentucky winter. He literally took my breath away & I couldn't keep the tears from flowing. It was just so emotional to see that old warrior. My friend & I toured the remainder of the Horse Park & went back to the Champion Barn for a "Fireside Chat". By then it was snowing & there was Alysheba standing in the snow. He came up by the fence & my camera just kept clicking. What a majestic old horse. There were times when I didn't know if was the snow or the tears in my eyes that blurred my vision. He had such a sad, far away look in his eyes that I later told friends he broke my heart. I don't know why I felt the way I did, but I felt I was seeing Alysheba nearing the end. I shouldn't have felt that way because he was the picture of health & he was in very good hands. But something in his eyes told me he was far away from where he actually stood. I wish I could have stood there longer, watching his breath mist in in the cold. He dug down deep into my heart & effected me more emotionally that I would have thought possible, never having personally known him. A month after my visit Alysheba was euthanized. I hope you're running free Alysheba. I will never forget those few moments when only you & I were standing in the snow.

Atta Boy

Registered QH, liver chestnut gelding, born circa 1951

Atta Boy was 17 when I knew him. As a young horse he'd been the Pacific Coast Reining Futurity Champion. He belonged to a doctor who boarded at the stable. He was such an unappreciated horse. The doctor's family had 5-6 horses & Atta Boy was always the after thought when it came to care & attention. He would hang his head over the gate begging for attention but no one seemed to care. I started patting his head as I walked by. One day I was greeted by the quietest nicker & his ears were pricked forward. After that I went out of my way to pet that old horse & I'd even give him carrots when I had them. When summer came the doctor & his family went away for the summer. I was the lucky young girl who was hired to care for their horses. Atta Boy was all mine for an entire summer. I would ride & care for their other horses first because then I could spend as much time as I wanted with Atta Boy. I knew the family never rode him because they couldn't handle him under saddle. They'd told me I could ride all their horses but not Atta Boy because he'd throw me. Well, don't tell a young girl she can't ride a horse. When no one was looking one day I hopped up on him bareback in halter. He was such an awesome horse. He carried me around that arena like I was made of china. He never missed a step. The only time he ever did anything to get me on the ground was when I decided I wanted to see if he could still spin. Oh yeah, that old horse spun right out from underneath me. He spun me off so fast I didn't even know he'd started spinning. When I hit the ground he froze & looked at me, nickering softly. I started laughing & promised him I'd never tell if he wouldn't. That was such a great summer. I loved Atta Boy. When the doctor's family returned they were shocked to find that their horse would call to me but never so much as acknowledge them. The doctor's wife wasn't impressed with the fact that their horse had bonded to me. I didn't know why it mattered because they didn't like him anyway. I never missed a day of patting his head as I passed his stall. Then one day there was a for sale sign on his stall. I thought my heart would break when my parents said there was no way they could afford to buy him for me. I had my horse they were already supporting. Every day I told Atta Boy that I loved him & would never forget him. It's been over 30 years & I've never forgotten him. What a wonderful summer that old horse & I had.