Wraff Tales-Yellow Slicker Adventures

I no longer ride if it's raining. I won't even consider riding if there's rain in the forecast, even if it's not yet raining. I really have a fear of the rain. If it rains & I'm riding, I might have to put on the Yellow Slicker.

I bought the yellow slicker about 20 years ago. For a long time it sat packed away in my truck as insurance against the rain. Surely if I carry a slicker it won't rain. My reverse psychology on Mother Nature hasn't always worked. I don't know how many times I've had to put on that yellow slicker. For anyone who doesn't know, I'm an endurance rider. I used to not care what the weather was, I was going to ride. I've even been known to drive over the Sierras in snow flurries just to get to a ride. Ok, I'll admit that one time I tried to get over in a blizzard. Good thing the CHP had more sense than I. Anyway, back to that yellow slicker.

Hindsight has established that my love-hate relationship with the yellow slicker might be because I'm 5'1" & that slicker is 6' long. Don't ask why I've never cut the bottom off because I've thought about it many times. Just never got the scissors out.

I think the first time I wore it was at the Koche Kobee ride many years ago. I had ridden in trash bags before I got the yellow slicker so Wraff wasn't bothered by the large, flapping, yellow plastic flying in the wind. He was less than happy with it touching him however. Wraff was a horse who hated anything that tickled him & he'd buck to get his point across. I'd even had him buck when sweat ran down his side so if you ever saw me doing all kinds of weird gyrations with my legs, that's why. I had to keep the sweat wiped away. But now I digress so back to the yellow slicker. At the start of the ride I realized that I couldn't let the slicker touch Wraff's butt or he'd buck so I had to sit on it. That extra foot of length bunched up under me quiet unpleasantly. And because I was sitting on the slicker, water ran down my back underneath me. So much fun riding in the rain with wet pants. At the first vet check I didn't stop to think about the situation before I got off. Before I knew what happened I'd stepped on the bottom of that slicker & out my feet shot, sending me into the mud. Then I had to trot Wraff out for the vet & wouldn't you know it, I tripped over that slicker & fell on my face. I can't say the day got any better as I battled rain, mud, & the yellow slicker. Maybe I should be glad they no longer hold the Koche Kobee ride.

That yellow slicker did come in handy when I woke one morning at the Washoe Valley ride to snow covering the ground. I hadn't packed a heavy jacket so it was just me, Wraff, & that yellow slicker. I did better in the battle that ride. I used the wonderful fix all, Duct Tape, to tape the bottom of that slicker up so I wouldn't trip. The only time it almost got me was when I got off to walk down the SOBs & Wraff thought it would be great fun to teach me to ski. I slid 1/2 way down on my butt but at least that slicker kept the mud off me.

Many years ago my friend Laurie & I rode the American River 70. The first 30 miles were a great ride. Then at the first hour check the rain started. I couldn't believe I was going to have to wear that slicker for the next 40 miles. Off we went after our vet check, braving winds, storming rain, & the freezing cold. I was glad that day that the yellow slicker was very heavy, thick plastic because at least my body was dry & out of the wind. I wish the same could have been said for my frozen, blue hands & feet. The trails were getting muddier & slipperier as we rode. We were so cold with chattering teeth that we didn't talk. We just plodded on one behind the other. It was so bad that at one point there was a new easy boot on the trail & neither Laurie nor I could bear the thought of getting off to pick it up. We came to a steep hill that we could see horses had struggled getting up. Laurie & her horse Emblem were in the lead. Half way up that hill Emblem stalled & couldn't get traction to go on. Wraff caught up with him & turned to go around. That proved to be a very bad move. As Wraff turned across the hill, all 4 of his feet slid out from underneath him. As he was going down & stepped off to the high side. Minor problem was that I stepped on that damn yellow slicker. The next thing I knew Wraff was sliding down the hill on his belly with me rolling right behind him. The slicker had pulled over my face so I could see nothing. Twice as we slid down that hill Wraff would stop sliding & I'd slam into him, between his front legs. Never did he try to get up. He just stayed as still as he could as we slid. That slicker was like being on a Slip N Slide. At last our momentum stopped & I was able to crawl across the mud slide area & into the brush. Wraff managed to get up then & continue up the hill. Laurie was at the top yelling to see if we were alright & I just yelled back to catch Wraff. I finally managed to pull myself to the top, through the brush. As I was finally able to get untangled from the slicker, Laurie & I just burst out laughing. How funny that had to have looked to the poor guy at the bottom of the hill. I'm sure he was terrified to come up but he had no other option. The remaining 20 miles was as miserable as it gets. By the time we finished that 70 mile ride we were both close to tears from the cold & misery. But to this day the memory of that yellow slicker Slip N Slide sets us off into uncontrolled laughter.

Yes, after all these years I still have that yellow slicker. It's tucked away in my truck & I hope it stays there. As for Wraff that day, he was a hero. If he'd panicked when I kept crashing into him I would have been trampled at the very least. The guy behind us was amazed because he could see that Wraff was protecting me. I like to think Wraff was my superhero that day, battling & winning over the yellow slicker.

Those Passed By

Through the years there have been many horses who I've look to buy. For every horse purchased there were probably a dozen who were passed over for various reasons. A few of these horses left lasting impressions.

I don't know that I ever heard her name, but that little, blue roan mare was one of the prettiest horses I'd ever seen. She was a registered Quarter Horse, newly arrived from Stephenville Tx. She was 5 or 6, supposedly broke to ride, & boy did she glistened in the sun. She was also heavily pregnant, bagged up & foaling was immanent. I really fell for that beautiful blue roan, but after just having a mare who foaled I didn't want another. I wanted to ride now, not months from now when the foal was weaned. Several times that day, as I walked among the horsetrader's horses, I went back to look at that mare again. The horsetrader finally told my mom that if I wanted the mare & not her foal, he'd foal her out for us & give the foal to the dog ladies. He said that most people didn't want foals so he usually waited to sell the mares until after they foaled & he'd given the foals away. He didn't have to explain what he meant by that. Even at my young age I knew what he meant. That beautiful mare's foal would become dog food. I didn't take that pretty mare home that day. While it sadden me to know she would lose her foal if I didn't get her, I also knew that I needed a horse to ride. That pretty, blue roan mare was the first time I had to make a decision based on logic & not on what my heart said. Because of her I learned what it meant to choose a horse based on what I wanted to do, & not just because it tugged at my heart. A profound lesson for a young girl.

I was looking for a jumping prospect & my search began in Hemet Ca. In the late 1960s Hemet was a haven of Thoroughbred farms. Black Shank was a registered Thoroughbred gelding off the track. I believe he was 6 & he was black as night. He was at a farm in Hemet & he'd come off the track with a bowed tendon. He didn't have the best disposition, pinning his ears as we looked in his stall. What I remember most about Black Shank is that one of his front cannons looked like someone had precisely painted it white all the way around. I can't remember now what the treatment was, but whatever they did to treat his bowed tendon had turned his leg white. It looked odd to see him with a permanent bandage mark. With his disposition & the loss of pigmentation on his leg, Black Shank wasn't the horse for me. Years later I was visiting a friend at her stable when I saw a black gelding standing in his stall. Imagine my surprise when I saw that leg. It was Black Shank & he belonged to a young girl who rode him on trail. I lived at least 100 miles from Hemet. Seeing Black Shank after all those years made me realize that the horse world is indeed very small.

Ricky's Sister was a pretty, 6 year old, bay, off the track, Thoroughbred mare for sale in Stanton Ca. My mom & I arrived about 45 minutes early for our appointment to see her. When we got there a groom was walking her around. It was quite obvious that she was lame. As we waited & watched, she began to come sound. There was no doubt in our mind that she'd been drugged in anticipation of our arrival. Ever since that day I have always arrived early when looking at horses. Never have I come across another drugged horse, but it never hurts to be early.

Culling Time was a 3 year, bay with a lot of white, Thoroughbred mare at a farm in Hemet Ca. She was, & still is, the tallest horse I've ever considered buying. At 3 years of age she stood 17.2. At the time I was 4'11" & had no idea how I would get on her. I could swing up on my mom's 16.2 hand mare bareback, but was quite sure I'd never get up to 17.2. She had never made it to the track because she was too tall to be coordinated at that young age. She was very short coupled & forged as she walked. As the groom led her out of her stall, I could only gape at her long legs. As sure as I was of not being able to get on her bareback, I was just as sure that I could quite literally walk underneath her because her legs were as long as I was tall. I'm too old & stiff now to want a horse over 15 hands, but I sometimes wonder what it would have felt like to ride Culling Time.

I named her Sunshine Company even though she wasn't yet mine. She was probably a Quarter Horse or cross, fairly young, & a very bright chestnut with flaxen mane. We were walking through the horsetrader's, window shopping. When I saw her she had her head tied back to the saddle so tight she couldn't move. I felt so sorry for her that I told my mom we had to buy her. We went looking for Leonard to tell him that Sunshine Company had just found a home. To his credit as a horsetrader, Leonard told us that mare wasn't the horse for us. She was a rank bucker, even bucking off his nephew Eddie. No horse threw Eddie so we knew she must have been quite the bucker. Still I wanted to "save" her from the cruelties of Eddie's handling. But try as I might, Leonard insisted she would hurt me & wouldn't sell her to us. It was such a shame because we knew where she would end up. I have to say that to this day I know that not all horsetrader's are slick & just out for money. Well, maybe they are & Leonard was just smart enough to know that if I got hurt we wouldn't be back for more horses.

Supper

In 2003 a very special mare came to live with me. She had been through hell & back, & I promised her she would never know another moment of pain, suffering & starvation. When she was re-rescued from CHP Sanctuary I offered her a home. When she arrived all I could do is cry at her condition, knowing she had been at death's door just a few months earlier. CHP turned out to be a nightmare place with horses being killed by plastic bag suffocation (so the reports said) when they were starved near death. How Supper survived is a miracle. I've lost count of how many horses had to be euthanized during the seizure. There was somewhere close to 90 horses involved & a dozen or more who didn't even make it off the property during the seizure. Supper filled the hearts of everyone who met her. She became my folks' horse & they enjoyed watching her wander the pasture with her weanlings. Today there is still a large, soft sand pile that is still called Supper's Sand. There are 3 fillies who now enjoy Supper's Sand & I know she's looking down on them with love. Rest in peace Supper, you are not forgotten. Below is Supper's story as it happened.

On The Feedlot
#179. Bay TB mare, Irregular Star. 23 yrs. old. Appx. 16 hands? This is really nice mare. She recently had a foal that died. They do not know why the foal died. Yes, she is older, but she is the Dam of 8 registered racing TB's, 4 of which are winners. She was originally owned by N.B. Hunt of Kentucky. It is my understanding that Mr. Hunt has passed away. Papers will go to new owner. Foaled 3/16/76
Socializing
Supper
Noble Decree

Supper is a granddaughter of Vaguely Noble, who was the sire of Exceller. Exceller died in a slaughterhouse in England in 1997 because his owner didn't want to pay for his upkeep anymore.
Several wonderful people banded together to send funds to pay Supper's ransom! We were finally able to come up with her ransom, but the problem was where was Supper to go? RESCUE has absolutely no room and all the rescues in the area I contacted were in the same boat! All of us are at full capacity. After doing some checking, we contacted a fairly new rescue in the area. We received affirmative feedback from various sources about this rescue before we asked them if they had room for Supper. Thankfully, California Horse Protection not only passed our screening, but they had room! Yes. Supper arrived at CHP bright eyed. It was determined that she has no back teeth (big contributing factor to her lack of weight gain) and that she also has a uterine infection which is being treated! (No wonder the gal couldn't put on any weight!). Thank you CHP!

Update 9/24/00 - On September 24, 2000 my husband and I went to California Horse Protection to visit Supper! She is looking remarkably well and happy considering what she has been through! Once Supper arrived at CHP a vet determined that she had a raging uterine infection! Not surprising considering she had just had a foal.....not sure whether it lived or not. They had tried to breed her again, and when she didn't take, they dumped her at a feedlot. From there, a wonderful group of people got together, stepped in and saved her life! CHP is providing her with a wonderful new home. The infection is now almost completely gone, but since it had been left untreated for so long, she is still, understandably, thin. But, she is bright eyed, curious and quite loving! She also managed to get an abscess on her right ankle which has been treated and is healing also. To ensure the wound stays clean, she has a wrap over the area which is changed daily. Supper has a big gray TB mare as a roommate in her big living quarters. She is the sweetest thing! Comes right up to the fence when you call her name. Thank goodness she is still living and breathing and someone calls her name! CHP has said visitors are welcome to visit at any time. Although I know some of you aren't close enough to do so, the others that are close enough can call CHP (the website is listed above and their phone/address should be there) and schedule a visit.

Update 11/4/00 - Supper continues to improve. No one has ridden her yet, and with all the other activity, she probably won't be ridden soon.
JUST IN TIME FOR SUPPER!!!
Supper was seized by Animal Control on 10/04/2002 during a raid on the organization that had assured RESCUE & RESCUE supporters that they would provide a safe, healthy home for life. RESCUE picked up Supper approximately 2 months after the seizure upon approval by the authorities. She was still emaciated after being fed properly during the time she was in Animal Control's custody. She was severely underweight, had rain rot along her spine, thick/dull coat, runny - swollen eyes and nose due to her weakened immune system, and vaginal discharge, which she also had in August 2000 at the time of her placement with the organization.
WARNING! Graphic pictures below! (I was unable to upload these pictures 8/25/09)

A vet was called prior to her arrival at RESCUE and an appointment made for an immediate full check up. Blood was drawn and samples of the discharges taken for analysis. At that point, the vet indicated that due to her emaciated condition, he was hesitant to prescribe antibiotics as the impact to her liver & kidneys might cause damage. Amazingly, results of the blood panel were normal!! Discharge fluids (eyes, nose, vagina) results indicated deficient immune system. She was immediately placed on a diet of Orchard hay, Timothy hay, alfalfa, vitamins (Pawier vitamins for the first few weeks and then Evergreen Insure vitamins) and Timothy/Bermuda/Brohme pellets. When we had contacted the owners of the organization immediately after the seizure, we were told, "You know, Supper is a hard keeper?" This statement was/is completely erroneous!! When we bathed this beauty, the water that ran off her was a dingy gray and oily. She was washed 3 times in one session! Her coat was matted with quite a bit of unhealthy hair that had finally begun to shed.

2-2003 Supper has gained weight nicely. We have wormed her with Panacur, as her system is still fragile. She is shedding out the dull/unhealthy coat, which was the result of starvation. Her vaginal discharge has cleared up considerably (although she does have a failed caslick), as has the 'weeping' from her eyes and the runny nose. Our lovely Supper is a favorite with the youth groups who visit ever week. She absolutely loves being groomed by those small hands. She is very careful about accepting treats from the youngsters and will lower her great head for a rub/pat from the children. The children were saddened when they first saw this regal lady upon her arrival at RESCUE. The children asked questions as to "Why would someone do this to this sweet girl?" "Why do people do this?"; "What did Supper do to deserve being starved?"; etc. Unfortunately, we do not have an explanation. Supper's magnetic personality not only drew the children to her right away, but she became Grace's best friend! Grace has not tightly bonded with another horse at RESCUE prior to Supper's arrival. Although Grace does get along with everyone, it was Supper that she loved to be with. They would frolic together; eyes alight with joy as they dashed around the pasture area. They would do a "rolling duet" when turned out together. It almost seemed as if they had choreographed their movements as they would drop to their knees at the same time and then roll on one side, get up and then roll on the other side. They would then jump up; throw those tails in the air and run, run, run!! Finally, they would drop their heads and graze side by side or stand together for hours.

Supper's personality is so kind and gentle that we felt comfortable with letting her out with Pearl. Being that Supper was such a big girl and sometimes so full of energy as she became healthier, we were hesitant for Pearl to be around her as she is so much smaller and cannot move quickly. But, Supper being Supper, was careful and loving with Pearl. Why......Pearl never once yelled at her or had a bad thing to say about her!! This lovely girl's gigantic heart and willingness to survive is amazing! Officials told us that when she was originally seized from the organization, one of the officers recommended euthanasia due to her obvious condition. The attending veterinarian made the decision to not euthanize her as he "saw something in her" that indicated she was a fighter. We are so grateful! The gentleman who went with us to pick Supper up from the facility where she was being held recently told me he had thought that she would die shortly after we brought her to RESCUE. This gentleman has been around horses for decades and has seen a lot. In fact, when he came to RESCUE a few weeks after Supper's arrival, he asked us "Where's that starved Thoroughbred mare we picked up?" When we pointed her out to him, he was surprised! He didn't even recognize her anymore! The statement "You know, Supper is a hard keeper?" is so very untrue!! All we had done was fed her properly, gave her fresh water, vitamins, had her teeth and feet done, wormed & vaccinated her (after she was healthier); hugged on her, brushed her, turned out to socialize and play. Felt her warm, loving breath on our faces and looked into her knowing eyes. We gave her normal horse care.......all the rest came from Supper!! She blossomed and gave us so much more in return!

3/22/2003 - Supper has gone to her new home where she will remain for the rest of her life. A wonderful RESCUE supporter adopted her for the express purpose of providing her with a safe, reliable, loving home for life. A Mom who understand the commitment and the gift of having Supper in her life. Thanks so very, very much Mom!

Our thanks to Riverside County Animal control for being there........Just In Time For Supper!!
A BIG thank you to the RESCUE supporter who helped to arrange transport for Supper to go to her new home! You know who you are my friend and we thank you so very much for your continued support!!

Update 5/14/03 - Supper is doing good and will be even better after Fri. She's scheduled to have her failed caslicks fixed & her teeth floated. Her vulva stays irritated & she has a touch of vaginitis (plus who knows what else). My vet says our ol' girl will be a lot more comfortable once she's repaired & cleaned up. We love seeing her roam around the house w/her little charges tagging along. She seems to be happy & content wandering the pasture at her leisure. Plus she comes in & helps mow my yard occasionally.

Update 7/25/03 - Supper's doing really good. I've included photos of her repair job just moments after it was done. It looks great today & she no longer has any discharge. She's had her teeth floated, hooves trimmed and must feel like a new mare. The heat's taken it's toll on all my oldies. Supper got a stylish haircut to help her cool off since she never finished shedding her winter woolies. Left the midline to protect her from belly flies and her topline & sides to protect the old bones & skin while resting & rolling. The clip job did make a difference in keeping her cooler. And she loves for me to hose her off. I think she'd stand for hours if I'd keep hosing. But even in all our 100+ heat, the silly ol' girl likes to lay in her sand pile in the sun. My dad put a couple tractor scoops of sand out so she'd have a soft spot to roll. My folks have quite a soft spot for "their" horse.Supper's Mom

Update 10/13/03 -Dear Friends,It is with much sadness that I forward the following update on Supper to you. Thank you for being there for her. When I told the horses of RESCUE that Supper was no longer with us, they all became very quiet. As I turned out a few of the residents, they congregated in the center of the arena for a bit. Almost as if they were having a moment of prayer. Suddenly, heads raised and they were off!! Tails flagged and dust flying! I feel that Supper was there running in the wind with them as Grace stopped, lifted her beautiful graying face and nickered to the wind! Supper was very much loved!!!

"On the morning of Oct 3rd, a very gracious lady crossed the Rainbow Bridge. Supper was a most wonderful old soul who deeply touched everyone who met her, and her passing has created an empty spot in the hearts of all who knew & loved her. My senior parents had taken Supper into their hearts as "their horse", providing her with goodies and a sand pile for rolling & sun bathing; she was the perfect nanny and her little charges are lost & can be seen looking up the pasture, wondering where their foster mother has gone; Supper was a constant joy, always loving & looking for attention, never letting her past destroy her gentle nature & kindness; maybe my shoer said it best " a wonderful old mare has finally found the green pasture she so deserved". To everyone who worked so hard to save Supper and send her to me, THANK YOU!D

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.

.

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.

Max & His Colt

Registered Quarter Horse Stallion, liver chestnut, born circa 1965
QH chestnut colt born circa 1972

I first saw Max on a flyer at a local feed store. He was standing at stud & I was looking to breed my AQHA mare. His pedigree was old & today he'd be considered 100% foundation. He was liver chestnut & stocky. His legs were substantial & straight, his over all conformation was very nice, & his superb disposition was the final deciding factor to breed my mare to him. I didn't have a trailer so his owner rode him the 2-3 miles to the stable to breed my mare. He was a perfect gentleman. Unfortunately my mare didn't get pregnant so I wasn't to have a Max foal.

A couple months later I received a late night call from Max's owners. They had a 3 month old son by Max & he'd impaled himself on something in the yard. As was normal for the time, the owners kept their 3 horses in their backyard in a housing tract zoned for horses. There were a lot of these areas in S CA in the '60s & early '70s. Max's owners didn't have a regular vet & they didn't know what to do because the few they'd called refused to come out on a Sunday night for someone who wasn't a client. I rushed over to help, taking ice & towels. When I got there the colt was standing in their kitchen. To say he'd impaled his chest would have been an understatement. He had the largest, laid open injury I've ever seen in 45 years of horses. His entire chest was laid wide open & bone could be easily seen. The sickening sight was that we could see what we believed was his heart beating. I'll never know if we really did see his heart, but we did see all his tissue pulsating with each heartbeat. I called my vet, who ended up being out of town. Then I began calling every vet in the phonebook. No one would come out. We were applying pressure with the towels & had ice covering his chest to help keep the bleeding & swelling at a minimum. His owners finally said our only choice was to stitch him the best we could. When I asked how we were going to do that without tranquilizer or pain killers, they explained that they were ex-heroin addicts & on methadone. I was so shocked I'm sure they could read it in my face. They assured me they no longer used drugs & that the methadone would help us get the colt stitched. I'm not sure how many injections we gave him because we gave tiny doses until we felt he was tranquilized enough. I don't remember how long it took but I was there all night, sitting on the kitchen floor, stitching up a 3 month old colt. What an awesome colt. He certainly had Max's disposition. The sun was coming up when I left for home. Later on Monday the owners called to let me know their colt was doing well. They'd finally gotten a vet to come out that afternoon & the vet complimented us on a job well done. He said we'd saved that colt's life & he didn't think he could have done as well. They'd scoured the yard but never found what he'd impaled himself on. I never saw Max, his colt or the owners again. I regret that because it was my choice to distance myself once I found out they were old heroin addicts. Such a shame that I wasn't older & open minded enough to stay friends with them. They were good people who loved their horses.