All things horses hopefully not AI

Connie Bennett

Connie Bennett

Well-known member
I thought this might be a good place to show horses, past and present. I hope folks will share their storiesšŸ¤ 

Also, aside from hunting & fishing stories, nothing beats a good horse story šŸ¤ šŸ¤ 

Somehow I managed to make these two into oversized emojis. The Ali the 15 yr old Arab on the left is on loan as a companion to Duncan, the 30-ish Dutch Warmblood on the right. The Dutch Warmblood was gifted to me in March, 2022 as a companion to my last Tennessee Walker. Rusty had been with me since he was two and was four months shy of 31 when he passed. He was one tough trail horse.

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Here is one of my horse stories published a few years back in a ranch magazine.

JD and Me

I wasn't really horse crazy like most ranch girls, but I did love old JD. He was 20 and I was 17 when I left home. I had known him all my life. The neighbor that owned him said his name was Jack Daniels and was named that because he had a hard birth and the old vet that was called was drinking Jack Daniels when he arrived. It was a weekend late-night call, so lucky to get a vet at all. In haste to pick a name, they named the colt Jack Daniels.

JD was never broke or ridden that I remember. He was to be a stud, but he couldn't reproduce and the owners couldn't bear to sell him since his mother died at birth and he was bottle-fed and babied like a pet. He became testy when anyone attempted to train him. He was a bad influence on their others horses, always instigating trouble, they said, so he was put in his own pasture. He was content there. No one ever understood why this horse that didn't get along with other humans or horses very well, was never anything but gentle and nice to me.

When I worked on the fence separating our pastures, he always followed me and wanted me to rub his muzzle and neck. Over the years when I went over to the older couple's ranch to help them with some job, he would always come thundering up to the corral to greet me.

I was about 16 when I was over helping the lady owner, then a widow, do some repairs around her place. It was a very hot day and at that altitude, one can get dehydrated before one realizes it. I was out painting the old tack shop and had grown lax on drinking enough water. She had gone inside to cool off and rest. I don't remember going down but realized something was wrong when JD started whinnying as I had never heard him before. She came out and realizing I was suffering from heat exhaustion, drug me under a shade tree. After applying wet towels and giving me cool water to sip, I was able to go inside and rest until I could return home. I credit JD for saving me from a possible heat stroke. That following Christmas, I took him several bales of fine, first grade, choice Timothy grass hay.

I left the ranch at 17 and got word a few years later that JD died. I was running the rolls on a highway project. I stopped for lunch and the foreman came over, visually shaken, to say he had received a radio message from the office that my mother had called and there was a death in my family, JD died at 25 and I could go home with paid time.

When I could dry my eyes and talk, I said, "No, I don't need time, JD was a neighbor's quarter horse and we had a special friendship." The foreman breathed out heavily and I could see his relief. I called my mother later that evening and all she had told the office clerk, due to party line problems was, "Let Faye know JD died and he just turned 25."
 
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Here is another favorite I wrote for a ranch magazine.

Standoff at the not so OK Corral

I remember summer 1970 when old Joe decided to sell off all his cattle and just keep his 22-year-old horse. Joe had a small hogan that he lived in and his Trading Post was in another hogan by the two-lane highway. He made what little money he needed selling snacks, cold drinks, and ice cream to the tourist. The nearest towns were 30 miles in either direction. One set of my grandparents owned the neighboring ranch. Near his Hogan, he had an old pole corral with a ten-foot pole gate. No fencing to funnel the cattle into the corral, just open the gate and the cows always came in to eat hay. Never a problem in the fall pushing the cattle to these winter grounds where hay awaited.

Joe made the decision to sell off all his cattle and donate his rangeland to the Ute tribe since he was Ute and the Rez bordered his land. Joe was unable to ride so he insisted I ride his horse as it knew the drill. A couple of older ladies from the Rez came to help with their aged horses. They both wore leather split skirts and were so kind and entertaining. They never seemed to get hot or thirsty. It was mid-summer.

It never occurred to me that this wouldnā€™t be a quick and easy operation. Pushing the cattle down to the lower pasture wasn't the problem. The problem started as the cattle approached the open corral gate. They turned and faced us. Joe and my grandparents stood by the gate chatting like they hadnā€™t visited for ten years. They visited every day year-round. The two Ute ladies had interesting stories that helped me pass the time.

I was staying with my grandparents for a month that summer since they needed help remodeling their house. Being around older folks was a good exercise in patience for me.

After over thirty minutes of facing off with the cows, finally, one old girl goes in to try some hay and get a drink of water from the trough. Over the next thirty minutes, all the others meandered in at their own pace. Still talking like long-lost friends with my grandparents, Joe shuts the gate. None too soon for me suffering a dry canteen and a painful bladder. I now understand why Joe insisted I ride his horse. Any other horse would have become antsy like its young rider.

It was the old mares last trip working cattle. She died that fall and Joe died shortly after.
 
John Brunner said:
I've heard that horses can be mean and difficult to work with. Is that all because of the owner, or are they often "just born that way"?
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Others here are better qualified to answer than me, but in my experience, the answer is no, with wild mustangs being an exception. Some horses are more difficult to train, but as far as being born that way, I think it depends on the breed. Horses bred for working cattle differ from ones bred for racing. A racing horse might be more high strung and unsuitable for anything but racing. A cow horse will be more easy going and if around other trained cow horses, will learn a lot from the other horses.

If you think of horses used for show dressage, they are usually from breeds that have been used for such for generations. Horses that are being trained for uses other than their breeding, may become mean and difficult. Shetland ponies seem to be born rather ornery. My experience is they like to bite and kick. While a choice for kids because of size, I would prefer a Welch pony or just a very small quarter horse.
 
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This is a pi=ainting of a grey Arabian stallion done by Gladys Brown Edwardā€™s, that she called ā€œthe Perfect Arabian Horseā€ . She painted a lot of beautiful Arabians over the years and many of the paintings were featured in the Arabian Horse magazines.

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My daughter had a palomino horse. He was a beautiful creature. He looked a lot like this one but had more brown on him.


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I'm going to delete the picture in a day or two.
 
When I was a teenager, I was in our local mounted drill team, and i really enjoyed doing that. My partner was my best friend, Sheila, and we would practice our horses at the arena , working on the slow lope that we did in the drill maneuvers.
Most of the kids used the same horses for drill team as they did for barrel racing, so some of those horses did not know how to do a slow lope at all.
So, we rode near the front, and the horses behind us had to slow down, whether they wanted to or not.

We rode in parades as well as doing the drill at the fair, rodeo, and horse shows in our area. This is me with my horse, Tami, in one of the parades. I raised her from a colt and trained her myself.

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My background in horses, as in "short and sweet"! First came my first PRCA rodeo I went to, as a fan, in 1984 at the Long Beach Arena. It was called The Pacific Indoor Rodeo. After that rodeo, I was 100% hooked and wanted to be a part of it. Was going to be a Saddle Bronc Rider, that is, until a Saddle Bronc Rider guy I met, talked to me at his house and showed me how to form a loop, swing that loop and deliver that loop around the plastic horns of a Dummy Steer Head (stuck in a bale of hay) he had. He was very impressed that I learned all of it so fast. "Save your body and become a roper instead". That is, a Team Roper "header". So, I bought a saddle and all of the tack, a Rattler "heading" rope (brand of rope) and started looking for a good/descent "rope horse". That is when I found "Red", which was a Red Roan Gelding Quarter Horse at 15 hands high. We went to a local (Norco, CA) Team Roping School together and done alright. I bought my PRCA Permit in 1985 to go to local rodeos and went to a few Jackpot Roping's as well. I sold Red, my saddle and gear around 1994. I wasn't a full-time rodeo contestant, being the fact that myself, and other Timed Event guys I knew, had full-time jobs during the week. However, I still have two Classic (rope brand) "heading" ropes and my roping spurs.

This was actually my second horse, being that a lady friend of mine back in the early 80's, bought two horses, a "trail" horse and a Quarter-Pony. I took care of both, but only rode the "trail" horse on trails. Its name was Brandy and its lower lip would twitch a lot when it got excited. She ended up selling both horses. I learned a lot about horses from taking care of both of them.
 
Here is a chapter from my Aunties book, Ranch Trails

The Horse Race

In about 1916, during World War 1, everyone was doing what they could to make money for the Red Cross. Around New Year, when Castle Hot Springs Hotel was filled with well-to-do people, from the east, the management sent invitations to ranchers around the country to come and stay as their guests for a few days. The hotel was having a grand ball and a rodeo.

We were all very excited and made new shirts and brushed up our leather riding skirts for the occasion. My brother helped me get my little chestnut pony ready and we were off to the show.

The men rode broncs and tied goats and calves. Then there was a horse race for women. One cowboy fitted me out with a real whiz little filly they called Tiny Bell. I had never been on her before, but they said she could really fly. They lined us up and when that gun banged, we were off! Little Tiny Bell took me to the finish line in a flash. They showered me with great gifts: a beautiful handmade bridle, spurs, and a box of chocolates. It was really exciting. They all shook my hand and congratulated me until I was dizzy.

The money that was won was donated to Red Cross. I heard it was around one thousand dollars.

My great auntie, age 16, on Tiny Bell on the far left 1916

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John Brunner said:
I've heard that horses can be mean and difficult to work with. Is that all because of the owner, or are they often "just born that way"?
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We farmed with horses until the work mare died when I was four. I started riding bareback behind an older cousin when I was ten. My step grandfather raised Welsh/Morgans that another cousin & I broke under his strict but very fair tutelage.

I have owned my own horses non-stop since I was 12, paying for their hay & grain off grandadā€™s farm by working on the farm, until I was old enough to earn a paycheck. They have saved my sanity more times than I can count ā€” especially when I lost my son & only child in a car accident.

All that to say I have only seen two black hearted horses, to where nobody was home in their eyes, in my life. A colt born on grandfatherā€™s farm that was caught in a the sac a little too long, and my good friendā€™s colt that was born an inoperable cryptorchid.

I have laid seven horses to rest in my lifetime; five of them laid to rest on this farm with one more to go whenever he tells me he is ready.. Six of them 27 to almost 31 years. The coming four year old suffered an irreparable broken leg in a freak pasture accident.

They all had different personalities and quirks. Some more difficult to work with than others and that is where the trouble starts with humans. Those who force a horse that isnā€™t ready for a new task because ā€œtime is moneyā€, or those who have zero common sense and canā€™t raise their children up in a fair manner.

I was a die hard trail rider, riding where there wasnā€™t much in the way of a trail, swimming across the narrow spot in a river. My last horse is a 30-ish Dutch Warmblood who is a retired show jumper. He was headed to Central Mexico to have his throat slit for dog food. Something he did not deserve as he is as sweet and loving as he is big - 17H bigā¤ļøā¤ļø

The Arabian who is here on loan, is an onery little thing. He is 15. His owner got him out of an abusive situation when he was two. He was still a stallion and in such bad shape, the vet wouldnā€™t geld him until he was healthy- almost a year of physical recovery. He still has mental issues because the owner learned he was being teased where she had him boarded, and thatā€™s how he came to my place. He has come a long way, but my physical frailties keep me from working with him the way I would like to. He has a good heart. I can see it in his daily behavior, and I can see it in his eyes, but Arabians by nature do not forget the sins committed against them and thatā€™s why a lot of people donā€™t like them because they just donā€™t understand how they think. I like it to someone who should never own a Rottweiler or a pitbull, but would do fine with a Labrador or golden retrieveršŸ¤ šŸ¤ 

So @John Brunner this is waaaay more than you asked for, lol. Yes horses can be born mean but it is very rare. Yes people make them that way for various reasons then pass the ā€œmeanā€ horse off to someone with no experience who doesnā€™t know how to fix it. I walk with a cane because I used to bring home these kinds of horses, reschooled them, then found good homes for them. Given the chance I would do that all over again, but I might be a little bit smarter about it now that I know the trouble I have walkingšŸ˜‡šŸ˜‡
 
Faye Fox said:
Roy Rogers horse, Trigger was a Palomino. :sneaky:
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There were actually two TriggersšŸ¤ . I am pretty sure the first trigger had some thoroughbred in it. I know for sure Trigger Junior got stuffed. He was a Tennessee Walking Horse from the Chance bloodline.

I think Mr. Gotch, who owned RFDTV until his passing bought a lot of Roy Rogers things, including Trigger Junior, Buttermilk, and Bullet the dog. He passed away from a heart attack a couple of years back, so that still begs the question where are Roy Rogers horses and dog now?
 
I went back and re-read everyoneā€™s stories. Thank you for posting themā¤ļøā¤ļø. Please post more stories and photos.


As to where Roy Rogers taxidermied animals currently are :

This from AI and I think it is fact :

ā€œAs of late 2025, the taxidermied remains of Roy Rogers' horse, Trigger, are part of the "Cowboys: History & Hollywood" exhibit at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library and Museum in Simi Valley, California. The horse, alongside Dale Evans' horse, Buttermilk, and dog, Bullet, is on loan to the library. ā€œ

They may be ā€œon loanā€ but my guess is they will stay there until the end of timešŸ˜‡šŸ˜‡
 
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