Unlike every young girl in the free world, I did not grow up liking horses. We lived in the country on a farm/ranch with every manner of animal and fowl, including those of the equine variety. Red's (my Dad) idea of buying a horse was to go to the local auction and pick out a little filly...trailered in from right off the Nevada desert. Wild. Green broke. He would then hire a trainer (I use the term loosely) who would further "break" her, and supposedly after a few months, she would be ready to ride. Yea, right.
|Bergie or Spider..can't remember which:)|
Nevada Sal also smelled my fear. She had a propensity for finding every barbed wire fence with a blackberry patch on the other side. She start that trotting thing that horses do, despite my efforts to rein her back...and of course, when one trots toward a fence, one must stop. Nope, didn't like that horse either. Not to mention that during one of her famous sideways trots, I think I lost my virginity on some protruding iron thing on the back of the saddle. Hated that horse. Nevada Sal gave way to milder gentler horses later on, but I never really got over the cold sweat of fear. Even old Bergie knew I wasn't a horse person and had a mind of his own: he like to trot up to closed gates. Ugh.
Despite my childhood horse traumas, I don't believe there is a more beautiful animal. Though I am not a rider (go figure!), I truly appreciate their majestic stature, powerful movements and stunning coats. I love to watch the Derby each May - race horses are particularly beautiful to watch. Our friends breed and show quarter horses and theirs are among the world's finest. At Strom Ranch there is an abundant supply of these magnificent creatures, but the little colts are my favorites - probably because they seem harmless:)
Laurel. "Save a horse...ride a cowboy"