Horses

Magnum, later in his life. I got him when I was 21

When I think about horses, Magnum, who was with me from the time he was two until he died at 31, comes to mind... I rode both his sire and dam before him, as they belonged to good friends. Back in those days I would do about anything for an hour on horseback.

He was a 14-2 hand Morgan-type black gelding that did pretty much whatever I wanted him to. ...reluctantly, stubbornly, but with a certain style when he finally got around to it. 

He would trail ride anywhere...just ask Joe...do flying changes and had a handsome extended trot. He didn't fear much....he might pretend to be afraid, but he really wasn't....just looking for an excuse. I once got lost and had to take him between a building and a running, loaded, crushed stone conveyor, close enough together that his ribs almost touched both sides. He never flinched, just hung his head over my shoulder and soldiered on.  I discovered the other day that a certain son of mine even shot off him...apparently fairly often. The things your kids don't tell you until later....

You only ever have one first horse, and you never forget them.

Richard, training the girls

And then there was Deranged Richard, a nifty little chestnut driving pony, that well and truly lived up to his name. He was responsible for my first blue ribbon and many embarrassing times. He was given to me because you could only get one good class out of him a year, before he remembered that if he went over to the out gate and stood there and refused to move, he was pretty much done for the day. Rude little runt.

He taught me a lot. Also taught the kids that you really should jump off before the pony runs through the barbed wire fence. And to duck when approaching low-hanging branches.

 He lived to be 32 or 33 and is buried here on the farm, as is Magnum. They had a love/hate relationship that was pretty funny. If together, they would turn rumps and squeal, but they hated to be apart and carried on like fools. They died within a couple weeks of each other....When Richard went, Magnum just gave up and quit. That was a pretty crappy year.

And then there was Major Moves, a bigger, bay, driving pony, who did good things for me and better things for the people who bought him from me. I will never forget driving him as a young horse, over all the fields and farm roads, butterflies dancing all around us, flowers brushing the sides of the cart, and my brother's dog running alongside. Fun times, fulfilling a dream of what driving could be.

They were the good ones. 

However, I was talking with a horse friend and realized that between, around, and among those three equine cornerstones, I've owned a larger number of horses than I ever thought about.

And a lot of them, for some reason, were Appaloosas, a breed of which I am not fond. To put it mildly. Runaways, rearing fools, barn sour, buddy sour, I managed to buy them all, some with lotsa spots, some not so many, some with none..but all nuts in one way or another.

Sunny

So far in thinking back, I am up to 11 horses or ponies of my own, plus the boss had a pair of Belgians and the kids have always had, and still have horses. If you count Ralph's Belgians and the kids' horses, it adds up to 18. Or so.

One of these only belonged to me for a couple of weeks and I can't remember his name. He was an utter jerk of a Standardbred that tried to stomp me shortly after I bought him...so we parted ways quite quickly.

Diamond

Right now there are three on the place, Diamond, Sunny and Jack....but back in the day I had them five at a time, and didn't like cows. Who knew that one day I would be as cow crazy as an old fart as I was horse crazy as a kid?

Jack