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My first horse came off a kill-buyer's truck on Sat Mar 07, 2009 6:57 pm
Yes, he came right off the kill-buyer's beat-up truck. That was in autumn of 1975 -- he became mine in February 1977. The barn where I took lessons was owned by a real old-time horseman who knew all the ways to save money (most of them good, some of them not as aesthetically pleasing as others...but I digress). How he saved money on school horses was by having the local kill-buyer stop off so he could look over what he had on the truck.
And one day, that included a thin but energetic 15.3 bay gelding. The story was that he had been a camp horse, who was so willing that they ran him down to nothing, and at the end of the summer no one wanted him. The barn owner started using him in lessons right away -- I even rode him in one of his first ones, on a lovely September evening -- but as he regained strength, his true nature came out. Always a gentleman but very high-spirited -- he would jump over the barrels in the paddock just for fun when turned out, and once he even jumped OUT of the paddock, which had to be at least 5'6" (the top rail was in my line of sight) -- so they named him Evel Knievel!
Well, he was obviously a heck of a horse and not really very good in beginner lessons, because he was too sensitive -- not bad sensitive, just that if you didn't know what you were doing, you would be telling him to do all kinds of things unintentionally. By this time I was falling in love, and so I bought him.
He was a better horse than I had any right to have, but I was so lucky -- I renamed him Gabriel and he lived up to that name for the next 18 years. Although he had no provenance beyond that rickety truck, both the vet and the horse dentist (a year apart) pegged his age at 15 (OK, 16 the second time). The best guess is that he was a QH-Morgan cross -- smart as a whip but very laid back. On the ground, a perfect calm gentleman -- under saddle, eager to do whatever was asked. Excellent for the vet, the farrier, everyone.
Gabriel and I had many wonderful days together. He got me through a divorce, being laid off (several times), and I always thought of him as my dear friend with whom I just didn't share a language.
In the ring, he could out-trot anyone and out-canter them, too. I never needed to carry a crop -- in fact, I only "kicked" him one time, in a lesson: the instructor was having us do some quick start thing to get from one side of the ring to the other, and he said what we should do was kick to get the horse going quickly. Well, I thought I was going to be launched into space, his acceleration was so great!
On the trail, when he was enjoying himself, he had a wonderful ground-covering running walk, on a loose rein. He would look around at the scenery, I swear! I could never cue him to this, he just did it when he wanted to, when he was happy.
Eventually, the barn owner died and I moved Gabriel elsewhere, where he lived out the rest of his life. In his later years, if stalled, he tended to stock up, so the indoor ring at the new place was his "stall". At the age of 25, a bee stung him or something as I was mounting, and he bucked me sky-high -- I shattered my wrist when I came down! That was Mother's Day 1987 -- my son was 10 months old.
When my son got old enough to sit in a saddle, I'd give him pony rides on Gabriel around the ring, after I had ridden him myself. Till the age of 30 he was still sound for ring and trail riding. I hung onto him through more than one recession, don't know how I managed, and he was always the bright spot in my week.
At around 31, he developed weakness in his hind end and I stopped trotting, but he loved to go out for walks. At 32 it became just hand walks, but he still was eager to see the rest of the world. At 33 -- on his 33rd birthday (well, the birthday I had given him, Valentine's Day, because he was my heart's love) -- he had to be put down. I had a good job by then, but I don't imagine my employer got much value out of my work for a bit...
Gabriel, the best horse that ever looked through a bridle -- I will always love you! It is for you that I fight horse slaughter, because I know firsthand that wonderful horses find themselves on that truck to terror. Gabriel, I don't know who raised you and trained you so well, but maybe when I reach the Rainbow Bridge, you will tell me all that?
And one day, that included a thin but energetic 15.3 bay gelding. The story was that he had been a camp horse, who was so willing that they ran him down to nothing, and at the end of the summer no one wanted him. The barn owner started using him in lessons right away -- I even rode him in one of his first ones, on a lovely September evening -- but as he regained strength, his true nature came out. Always a gentleman but very high-spirited -- he would jump over the barrels in the paddock just for fun when turned out, and once he even jumped OUT of the paddock, which had to be at least 5'6" (the top rail was in my line of sight) -- so they named him Evel Knievel!
Well, he was obviously a heck of a horse and not really very good in beginner lessons, because he was too sensitive -- not bad sensitive, just that if you didn't know what you were doing, you would be telling him to do all kinds of things unintentionally. By this time I was falling in love, and so I bought him.
He was a better horse than I had any right to have, but I was so lucky -- I renamed him Gabriel and he lived up to that name for the next 18 years. Although he had no provenance beyond that rickety truck, both the vet and the horse dentist (a year apart) pegged his age at 15 (OK, 16 the second time). The best guess is that he was a QH-Morgan cross -- smart as a whip but very laid back. On the ground, a perfect calm gentleman -- under saddle, eager to do whatever was asked. Excellent for the vet, the farrier, everyone.
Gabriel and I had many wonderful days together. He got me through a divorce, being laid off (several times), and I always thought of him as my dear friend with whom I just didn't share a language.
In the ring, he could out-trot anyone and out-canter them, too. I never needed to carry a crop -- in fact, I only "kicked" him one time, in a lesson: the instructor was having us do some quick start thing to get from one side of the ring to the other, and he said what we should do was kick to get the horse going quickly. Well, I thought I was going to be launched into space, his acceleration was so great!
On the trail, when he was enjoying himself, he had a wonderful ground-covering running walk, on a loose rein. He would look around at the scenery, I swear! I could never cue him to this, he just did it when he wanted to, when he was happy.
Eventually, the barn owner died and I moved Gabriel elsewhere, where he lived out the rest of his life. In his later years, if stalled, he tended to stock up, so the indoor ring at the new place was his "stall". At the age of 25, a bee stung him or something as I was mounting, and he bucked me sky-high -- I shattered my wrist when I came down! That was Mother's Day 1987 -- my son was 10 months old.
When my son got old enough to sit in a saddle, I'd give him pony rides on Gabriel around the ring, after I had ridden him myself. Till the age of 30 he was still sound for ring and trail riding. I hung onto him through more than one recession, don't know how I managed, and he was always the bright spot in my week.
At around 31, he developed weakness in his hind end and I stopped trotting, but he loved to go out for walks. At 32 it became just hand walks, but he still was eager to see the rest of the world. At 33 -- on his 33rd birthday (well, the birthday I had given him, Valentine's Day, because he was my heart's love) -- he had to be put down. I had a good job by then, but I don't imagine my employer got much value out of my work for a bit...
Gabriel, the best horse that ever looked through a bridle -- I will always love you! It is for you that I fight horse slaughter, because I know firsthand that wonderful horses find themselves on that truck to terror. Gabriel, I don't know who raised you and trained you so well, but maybe when I reach the Rainbow Bridge, you will tell me all that?
