Commanders Story
1.
The Meeting
2.
Getting used to each other
3.
Initial Training
4.
Mounting
5.
Shows
6.
Julia
7.
At Mother’s
8.
The Funny Farm
10. Susar I
11.
Susar II
12.
Susar II X-mas party –
-
The End
-
UnConclusion
The Meeting
I walked into the barn, casually greeting the low knickers
that chorused down the aisle.
“Hey, Susan!” The trainer over at the Saddlebred barn says
“if you really wanna see a horse that jumps they gotta colt jumps outta the
window of the stall!!”
I had just arrived in Texas from the East Coast, and word
had gotten around that there was a real tall girl in town who rode
jumpers. Dallas, Texas in 1961 was not
exactly the hunter / jumper mecca of horsedom, so I was something of a novelty.
“What kind of colt is he, and why is he jumping out of his stall window?”
“Supposed to be a real tall well – bred bay owned by some
people in Shreveport put over North Shore for training. They say he’s a killer-stomped Dane and
charges anyone goes near the stall.”
“Teriffic – That’s all I need is a fancy crazy horse!”
Unfortunately, I was very familiar with the brutal training
methods employed by Saddlebred trainers in order to achieve the “high action”
and stylish “presence” demanded in the show ring. The idea of a colt with enough courage and
zest to defy the whips, chains, tail sets and electric shocks so deftly
inflicted by the trainers of these so-called equestrian arts interested me.
I phoned a friend interested in obtaining a good young horse,
and we drove across town to the two hundred foot, 50 stall show barn.
Nervous, snorting, weaving, shuffling and an occasional
sharp kick revealed the state of mind of the horses in the barn. Although the stalls were large, they were
completely boarded up and had bars over the top half of the doors. The barn was very long – 25 stalls on each
side of a wide aisle. Full though the
barn was, there was not a single nicker or whinny as we walked from stall to
stall; only the wide eyed hovering of frightened animals at the back of their
stalls. They all wore wide leather
harnesses to hold their tail sets in place.
American Saddlebreds have lovely naturally high tails, but the pressure
of competition has demanded higher and higher tails; higher and higher action
of the front feet, and people, with their ability to alter nature, have devised
cruel methods in their quest for horse show ribbons. Trainers cut the governing nerve in the
horses’ tail and then mold the limp tail over a metal set held in place by leather
straps and surcingles. To improve front
hoof action, they let their horses feet grow to twelve or more inches in
length, put on heavy shoes, and tie chains and wooden rattles around their
ankles. The horses do pick up their feet! These
fittings are worn throughout a horses show career only being removed during the
brief hours of actual riding.
As we approached the very last stall there was the horrible
crash of weighted feet against metal bars.
“Better get out from in front of that stall unless you want
those feet in your face!”
“What in the world are you doing to this colt!!??” I
screamed at the shocked trainer.
“More like what is he doing to me and my barn.” As he pointed one of his crutches from a safe
distance away from the stall.
“That one’s a killer – Got me down when I was tightening his
bitting rig and stomped my legs. I
crawled under the manger but he still broke my ankle.”
“Good for him!! It’s
a pity he didn’t’ get your head! I
suppose this is the horse that jumps out of his stall window?”
“That’s him ok – real fine bred colt – The best – but he’s
untrainable – dangerous – you don’t want anything to do with him.”
“Why don’t you just go away and let me talk to him?”
“Suit yourself, but I aint responsible!”
This huge blood bay colt was completely bound with a wire
wrapped curb bit tied to the breast collar of his tail set. The whip cuts criss crossing his sides and
rump made his bright red brown coat a bloody plain. His eyes were completely white ringed and his
nostrils were pulled almost shut by the baring of his teeth. In long experience of horse shows, trainers,
and brutality inflicted in the name of sport, I had never seen an animal more
tortured; and yet he was not giving in – he was exquisitely beautiful in his
fury.
Against all possible rationalization I knew I had to have
that horse. The fact that I had no money
did not deter me in the least. I made a
deal with an old friend – she would supply the cash, and I would supply the
training. Of course the fact that I couldn’t
even approach the front of Commanders stall without getting charged with bared
teeth and iron clad hooves was only a mild deterrent.
Getting Used To Each
Other
The long process of training Commander began with my
mustering the nerve to stand directly in front of his stall and trust that the
bars would withstand the splitting cracks from his hooves. The first “training session” took three and
one half hours with Commander standing on his back legs crashing the stall
front, and me just standing there immobile.
Finally he got tired and went to the back of his stall, the sweat
glistening, foaming and dripping off his belly. Since I could not get into the stall with
him, he still had to wear his torture gear for several days. After about six days of just standing, first
outside his stall, then inside it, I was able to get close enough to him to cut
the rein straps on his rig. Several days
later, I was able to remove the entire tail set and begin cleaning Commanders’
wounds.
Very slowly Commander began to trust me. He allowed me to relieve him of his tack only
because he wanted it off – he watched me and every touch of my hand made him
rigid – ready to bolt at me. About six
weeks after our initial meeting Commander actually approached me when I entered
his stall and I knew that it was time to start progressing on his training.
On Saturday I informed the trainer at the show barn that I
was going to take Commander out of his stall.
“Now Susan, you can’t do that without people around here. Wait till noon when everyone goes to lunch.”
“That’s fine with me.
It will only make him mad if he sees you.”
Back to Coco’s stall and we had a long talk. I brushed him, slipped his halter on and off,
led him around his stall. I had no idea what he would do when I led him outside
his prison.
At noon I closed the doors at both ends of the barn and
cautiously led him into the long dark hall.
He did – Nothing! At first he
tensed, looking for other people, but when he realized we were alone he relaxed
and walked with me up and down the aisle.
“He Susan, how’s it going?”
My partner had just arrived and peeked in the door.
“Ok. He has really
calmed down and seems to be enjoying the attention. He hasn’t tried to get me, or get away from
me!”
“Well, be careful! He’s so big and so quick…”
“Something’s happened.
He’s responding to me. I have the
feeling he wont hurt me.”
“Just don’t be too brave.”
Suddenly Commander went straight up on his hind legs and
jerked the lead toward a bright light at the end of the barn where the trainer
was returning from lunch.
“Easy Coco – listen – easy – halt – “ Gently I worked him back to his stall – a few
steps – then a lunge toward the light – a halt and a few steps more until we
were back in the prison – but together – Commander listened to me and allowed
me to guide him against his will.
“So that’s how it’s going to be!! We have to watch out, because he will get Dane if he has the chance!”
One point was established – Commander was not interested in
attacking me. He was willing to accept
mild guidance, and he would listen to me even under emotional strain. The fact that Coco still wanted to kill men
was a problem since the public training stable was generally covered up with
owners and trainers. My next major
problem was how to work Commander, and train him to the point that he was safe
around people. I solved this problem by
getting everyone to vacate the barn long enough for me to lead Commander to an
arena behind the barn. With Commander
inside a seven foot ring I felt relatively safe.
Our first actual lesson in horse co-operation consisted of
verbal commands on the ground with a lead rope.
I would walk next to Coco, say “walk”, “turn”, “halt”, etc., never
touching him, only making the move with my own body. His mouth was in such a mess from wire
covered bit that any form of bridle was impossible. In about one hour lesson he was responding to
vocal commands while being led. Every
small success was met with much praise – which Commander tolerated with
haughtiness.
On the third day of outdoor schooling I tried Commander on
the longe line. I enlisted Pat to lead
him about 20 feet away from me on the circumference of a circle. Twice around the circle and he understood.
“Ok – turn him loose”
“Walk Commander” – and around he walked – never pulling –
never resisting at all.
“Halt” – “I can’t believe him!”
“Well Susan, I’ll say one thing for him. He certainly is smart! As long as he doesn’t mind doing what you ask
of him you’re ok, but I don’t want to be around when you thwart him!!”
“I don’t think so – I think he knows I won’t ask him to do
anything that will ever hurt – I feel that he trusts me. Let’s try a trot and see what happens.”
At the end of about forty minutes Commander was walking, trotting,
and cantering on command on the longe lone.
He offered no resistance and worked willingly as soon as he understood
what I wanted.
“God it’s hot! Let’s
go get something cold to drink. We can
turn Commander loose in the ring to have some freedom while we are gone.”
“Ok, Pat, but I hope he doesn’t get into any trouble!”
“Oh for heavens sake!
What trouble could he get into in a seven foot arena!?!”
“I don’t’ know, but I worry about him.”
“Come get in the car and stop being a mother hen to a seventeen
hand horse!”
We started down the road away from the ring only to hear a
piercing bugle and catch a glimpse of Commander topping the rails of the arena!
“Good grief – a seven foot fence from a standstill! That horse doesn’t let anything interfere
with what he wants – I hope we can catch him before he hurts someone!”
I jumped out of the car tripping over my booths and yelled
HALT!!!”
He halted. Rigid,
quivering, he let me approach him and although his head was held so high I
could barely reach his halter he did not resist my lead rope.
“Well Susan – a few more demonstrations like that will
convince me that you have control over him.”
“No, I don’t have control over him, and I never will. We are just beginning to get our goals in
line. He is learning that there is more
pleasure in being with me than there is in fighting. He only halted because he didn’t really want
to run away.”
Mounting
It was not long before I could no longer refrain from trying
to ride Commander. One day after a
particularly successful longing session, I cautiously tied the loose end of the
lead rope through the opposite side of his halter and swung up on his
back. I knew that the only real control
I had over Commander was his increasing enjoyment of the love and attention I
was giving him. I hoped this would be strong enough to keep him from hurting
me.
With both hands buried in his mane I had a relatively good
seat which was fortunate because he took off, flat out, ears back as fast as he
could go. I hung on trying to keep some
form of balance as he tore furiously around, across, and through the
arena. After what seemed years of mad
dash running right up to the rails, whirling and heading off in another
direction with me unable to do anything to dissuade his fury, I detected a
slight slowing of his gallop. Eventually
the gallop slowed to a lunging canter, the canter to a broken trot, the trot to
a prance. I took up rein and began
quietly asking him to walk. The first
contact with his halter caused a lunge forward and a few more frenzied laps of
the ring, but repetition and a waiting game finally established a walk. At this point I dismounted, lavishly praised
Commander, and began the two hour process of cooling the steaming horse down.
The race horse routine was now repeated through I was
prepared to ride it through as many times as necessary. The next time I swung up on Coco he tensed,
moved forward, but did not run. We spent
several weeks just walking, turning, and halting. Due to the condition of his mouth the halter
and lead rope were his only bridle, and no saddle was ever used in his early
training. Commander did not like
walking, (actually at 23 years of age he still did not like walking), and any
shift in my position, or tensing of my muscle, was a signal to him to bunch up
and leap forward. When I finally
introduced the trot it was magnificent!
Commander had such extreme power in his hindquarters that he was able to
trot fast and strong with his head elevated and his front end breaking high for
as long as I was able to stay upright on his back. Gradually, he relaxed enough for us to be
able to walk and trot together without the coiled readiness to spring.
Months of long rides, quiet workouts, and general getting to
know each other made it more and more obvious to me that Commander was an
extraordinary horse. As soon as trust
was established, Commander became my protector.
I had a small cottage at the stables and Coco became my
watch-horse. Any approaching car or
person would cause Commander to bugle, snort, and raise a terrible
commotion. He was his happiest when I
let him stand in the living room and listen to music.
SHOWS
I had spent my childhood showing horses on both the East and
West coast so it was natural that I decide to show Commander. The main problem was to find shows! I was a hunter / jumper rider, and although
most American Saddlebreds are ridden and shown saddleseat, I trained and showed
Commander hunt seat. In the early
sixties there was very little hunt seat or jumping activity in Texas. Commander’s first class was English
Equitation – hunt seat and saddleseat mixed, at an open show. We were the only hunt seat team entered, but
we won the class.
Horse shows were Coco’s idea of heaven. Due to his height at 17.2 hands, we hauled in
an open trailer pulled by a borrowed jeep. As we traveled down the road
Commander would whinny his greeting at stop lights, passerby, horses and people
at the show. He never shut up until we got
home at night. Horse shows were a social
occasion and not to be taken in the least bit seriously; while waiting for a
class one afternoon Coco casually reached over the heads of several seated
people and helped himself to a ham sandwich.
The shocked provider of Coco’s lunch nearly fell off her chair!
Commander showed successfully when he worked well. He generally either won a class or played all
through it. The absence of really good
hunt shows and the necessity for me to start college kept us from adhering to
an avid show schedule. Commander
discovered his really magic job quite by accident.
JULIA
“I am Mrs. Grey and a friend of your mothers told me you
might be able to help me. I have a
daughter six years old who wants nothing but to ride a horse. The only problem is, she is crippled in both
legs - wears corrective casts – I want to give her riding lessons but no one
will take her.
“Mrs. Grey, I don’t really think I can help you. I first of all don’t have a horse to teach
on. I only have my own show horse, Commander,
and he is very large and very high strung.”
“Could you take Julia and let her just be around the horse –
help clean stalls – anything? She has
the problem with her legs, and she also has perceptual problems. She’s dyslexic and finds school and learning
frustrating. The only thing she wants,
or talks about, is horses.”
“Look, we’ll give it a try.
Bring her over next Friday and we’ll see how she gets along.”
Unlikely though it was that I could successfully work a very
small crippled child on Commander – the horse that had crippled a grown man – I
decided that the little girl could at least help me around the barn and enjoy
being with the horses. Commander had
never even seen a child so I was a little uneasy about how he would react.
Friday afternoon I get a real surprise!
“Susan, this is my daughter Julia.” Small, a little plump with both legs in
cumbersome casts, the child was obviously excited and just a little bit
frightened. Her eyes were very blue, the
left one partially covered by a drooping eyelid.
“Hi, Julia. I
understand you want to learn about horses!”
“Yes, but I probably can’t do much. I can’t do much, mostly.”
“Well you’d better get rid of that attitude because around
here, you can do anything you want to do.
If I tell you that you can do something, you can, because I won’t let
you get hurt, but you will learn. Will
you remember that?”
Julia cast an uncertain glance at her mother, who nodded in
response.
“I’ll try.”
“Yes, and if you try, you will! Now let’s get started. Let’s go meet Commander and see how you two
feel about each other!”
Julia came to a little below Coco’s belly. I’d left him tied to a tree for this initial
encounter, and since I really did not know what to expect I stayed right next
to Julia.
“Ok, to begin with, meet Commander! We call him Coco for short, or Cocomoco. You two will need to become good friends, and
the best way to become friends is to talk to each other.”
Julia stood very close to me, one hand propping her up by
the tree, the other hand tentatively stretched toward Commanders’ nose. The problem was that she was two feet from
reaching his nose!
“If you guys are going to meet each other I’d better lift
you up!”
I slipped my arm around her waist and balanced her on my hip
like a sack of grain. Commander lowered
his head and very carefully sniffed the child, her casts, her coat, and finally
stood looking her full in the face, his huge brown eyes somehow comprehending.
One hand extended, Julia touched his nose and jerked back.
“Will he bite me?”
“No, just put your hand out and let him touch you.”
“His nose is so soft!
He’s so big.”
Coco gently nuzzled her hand and then slipped his nose into
the curve of her neck and nickered.
“He’s tickling me!” she giggled.
“I think he likes you!
Are you ready to start learning about him?”
“Yes! Can I touch his
nose some more?”
“Sure, but listen while you do. The most important thing in learning about
horses is learning to understand how they feel and think. If you know why a horse acts the way he does
then you will never be afraid of him, and you will never be unfair to him. Commander has been badly mistreated, so it is
very important you never treat him rough, or get angry at him.”
“The first thing you need to learn is how to groom him. Here, take this curry comb, and this soft
body brush. Go hard around in circles
with the rubber curry comb and then follow with the body brush along the hair
the way it grows. Don’t use the curry
comb on his legs. The skin has no
padding and it might hurt. Be friendly
to him, talk to him while you brush him!”
Of course Julia could only reach Coco’s legs, belly and part
of his shoulder, but she spent over an hour methodically grooming his
underside. Commander loved it! He never shifted weight or moved a
muscle. I went into the barn for a
bucket and returned to find Julia sitting underneath Commander grooming the
back of his front legs!
Commander had found a career and I had found a shadow!
Regular riding lessons were slow in materializing due to the
casts and Julia’s severe asthma. The
first month or so we worked on grooming, leading, and getting horse and child
on comfortable terms with each other.
The first ride was a tense occasion for all three of us. I had no concrete proof that Commander would
tolerate a child learning on him, but I felt that he understood the situation
and would enjoy the process of “training” Julia.
I rode Commander for a couple of hours on the morning of
Julia’s first ride to preclude any friskiness on Coco’s part. Normally Commander moved powerfully and his
size and strength and the thrust of his gait could be difficult to stay
with. I was hoping to take the edge off
some of his spring so that Julia would not loose her balance. The heavy casts would make using the stirrups
impossible, and a fall from a seventeen hand horse could be dangerous to
anyone.
Julia and her mother drove up just as I was finishing
grooming Commander after our ride.
“Hi! Are you ready to
ride?”
Julia was wearing a regulation hunt cap fitted with a chin
strap and the contrast between the black velvet and her white face was a little
startling. She was terrified, but also
very excited.
“Susan, Are you sure…?”
“Of course I am, don’t worry, I’ll be right next to you and
if you want off I’ll lift you off immediately, ok?”
“Ok”
“Then let’s saddle him up and start learning to ride.”
We groomed him together, Julia brushing the underside, and
me the top, and then tacked him up.
Commander knew something important was going on. He watched us constantly and when I took his
reins in one hand and Julia in the other and swung her into the saddle he
literally held his breath.
Julia crouched down on the saddle holding the pommel with
both hands.
“Ok, Julia, I am going to lead Commander at the walk and I
just want you to sit quietly and feel the way he moves.”
I moved Commander forward and an incredible thing happened –
he tiptoed, literally. The normal strong
four beat of his walk was reduced to an ultra slow tiptoe as though he were
walking on eggs!
After a few minutes of getting used to the size and feel of
Commander, Julia relaxed and let go of the saddle. I positioned her, showed her how to hold the
reins, and explained the leg, rein and voice signals she was to use with
Commander. It was time for me to let go
of the bridle and let Julia take the “controls”. She was very clumsy at first, but Commander
“read” her signals and even anticipated them.
His “on eggs” posture never wavered as he walked, circled, serpentined
and halted around the arena. He never
considered taking advantage of his tiny passenger. The fact that this enormously powerful
animal who was normally so “full of himself” that walking was almost a
punishment, would be carefully, lovingly, walking a very small and unbalanced
child around the ring, obeying her every effort at correct signaling was proof
positive that Commander was indeed a very special person!
Julia’s riding education continued and she progressed
admirably in spite of her physical problem.
She was so determined to get her heels down correctly that she managed
to stretch her shortened tendons where Doctors had been unable to do so. Commander responded to her improved balance
and confidence in an intriguing way: as she progressed, he became more and more
demanding of her skills. At the
beginning of each step in Julia’s education Commander would respond to whatever
form of signal Julia presented him with.
As she improved, he would demand an increasingly correct signal before
he would comply.
When it came time for Julia’s first show, Commander took
control of the situation. Julia was so
scared that she froze in position, unable to make any signal at all, but seated
correctly. Commander did what the
announcer called for, carefully positioning himself in traffic and taking pains
to keep Julia out of any crowds or danger.
They won the class!
This was to set a precedent that lasted Commander’s entire
life. He never took a beginner in their
first class but what he won the class for them.
Later, as they gained skill and confidence, it was up to them: he demanded perfection.
The achievement that Julia attained with Commander’s help
enabled her to take a more positive outlook on all levels of life. Her grades improved, her physical condition
improved, and probably for the first time in her life, she felt the joy of
self-achievement. Commander trained
Julia; I did not. I showed her what to
do, and he slowly increased his demands on her skills until ultimately she
became a very confident and accomplished rider able to compete successfully
riding any horse in any company.
At Mother’s
My college career began, and temporarily ended with a broken
back! I taught riding for the university
in partial payment of tuition, and was run over by a blind school h9rse
panicked by a screaming student. My back
was broken and I spent most of the next year in a hospital and a
wheelchair. During this time Commander
visited my parents who lived in a residential neighborhood of North
Dallas.
Being accustomed to living with me and being ridden hours a
day, Commander was understandably bored, lonely and generally out of sorts with
his enforced backyard confinement. To
amuse himself, Commander committed some pranks that became neighborhood
legend. Although Commander always stayed
anywhere I put him when I was present, he felt no such compulsion toward my
parents. He took to jumping the six foot
stockade fence and roaming the neighborhood at will. He would never go into traffic, but he would
graze yards and introduce himself to dogs, children and policemen at will. My poor mother would grab a lead rope and
waddle off after him yelling “Commander!! You bad boy come here right this
minute or I will call Susan!!” Commander
would stay just out of her reach and make her follow him over the neighborhood
until he tired of the prank. He would
trot home, jump back into the yard, and await dinner. He seemed to delight in tormenting my mother!
One day I received a hysterical phone call.
“Susan!! Commander is
in the indoor swimming pool!!!”
“Calm down Mom.
What’s he doing?”
“He’s swimming!! The
patio door is open. He must have
wandered in. How did he get into the
pool?”
“He loves to swim – don’t panic, just watch him and if he
looks like he is in trouble hook the pool hook on his halter and pull him down
to the shallow end.”
“About twenty minutes later Mom called back to report that
Coco had swum to the shallow end, walked up the steps onto the deck and
casually walked outside to the back yard and rolled jubilantly! The only casualty was to the hand laid deck
tile, Coco’s hooves had cracked it! It
became necessary to keep the pool room sliding doors closed and locked because
a sliding door was no challenge for Commander to handle!
Another day, another phone call!
“Susan, Commander is in the kitchen!!!”
“Calm down – how did Commander get in the kitchen?”
“Well, I was coming home from the grocery with an arm load
of bags and the phone rang. I hurried
down the hall without closing the back door, dropped the grocery sacks by the
sink and ran for the phone. When I got
off the phone, and came back to the kitchen Commander was standing in the
kitchen going through the grocery sacks!”
“Is he ok? He’s not
frightened is he?” I was a little
concerned because Mother’s kitchen was long and narrow and I knew Commander
could not turn around in it. There was a
possibility that he might get frightened if he tried to leave and could not.
“No, he’s just fine; he’s found the carrots and the apples
and he’s having a snack.”
“Oh, just get a carrot and stand in front of him and tell
him to back, he’ll back out of the kitchen and down the hall just fine. Call me back after you get him out.”
So now the back door and the pool door had to be kept
locked, for once inside, Coco was not content limiting his visits to the back
yard!
Things began to get a little tense in the neighborhood when
Commander discovered a formal Japanese garden.
After having exhausted the intrigue of front yards, Coco started jumping
into back yards. Most of the neighbors
thought it was amusing and as soon as they realized that Commander would not
hurt anyone or damage anything, they welcomed him. One neighbor however had spent years
cultivating a delightful Japanese Garden.
Mother got an irate phone call reporting that Commander was in his
garden drinking out of the fountain.
Evidently he had already grazed the Bonsai trees and the monkey grass
and was washing it down with a drink.
Fortunately I had sufficiently recovered to take Commander
back and resume my schooling.
The Funny Farm
I was in school and working so I leased acreage mid point
between destinations and dubbed it the “Funny Farm”. I moved Commander from my Mother’s and
brought in a couple of extra horses that students of mine had purchased. The Funny Farm was much too Commanders
liking. I lived in a mobile home in the
pasture and while commander could not come in the trailer, he could open
the door and stand with his head in the living room.
Also at this point, Commander fell
in love! The stay at mother’s had given
Commander a taste for freedom and due to the fact that the other horses in the
pasture would not follow Commander over the top of the fence, he took to
opening the gate and ushering them on scenic tours around the countryside. He would always have them back in time for
feeding, and he always took care that no one strayed or got into trouble. One morning I awoke to the usual open gate,
but we had an addition, a gorgeous chestnut mare. I had never seen this horse before, but it
was obvious that she was a very fine American Saddlebred! I got on the phone and finally located the
man who owned the missing mare. It seems
he had moved to Texas recently and had to pasture the mare because of his ill
healthy. He visited the farm and because
he knew Saddlebreds and appreciated Commanders quality, and did not want to
leave his mare Anisette unattended, he asked if Ann could stay with
Commander. The two were inseparable! They ate together, slept together and Ann
followed us whenever I rode Commander.
Ann’s presence also put an end to Commander’s wanderings!
Graduation from school and a new
job forced re-location and we lost track of Ann.
2 Win Cones – Ann – again – Courage – Vanessa – Gordon
For several years I concentrated
on establishing a career and my horse activity was limited to pleasure riding
Commander at a nearby lake. It was the
enjoyment both Commander and I experienced from lake rides that prompted me to
purchase a house at the lake with a small barn next door for Commander. The location and the setting were ideal. The house was small and neat and there was an
old man who lived next door who had several horses he kept Commander
company. After moving in and doing some
repairs on the barn I went next door to introduce myself to my new neighbor and
to meet his horses prior to moving Commander home with me. To my utter amazement he introduced me to a
very thin but elegant chestnut mare whom he called “Girl”. He explained to me he had purchased the
well-bred mare at a local auction because although she was skinny and lame, he
figured she would bear him a few nice foals.
The mare was Ann. The old
gentleman had no idea of her lineage or of her worth. Evidently her original owner had died and his
family had sold Ann not ever bothering to transfer her papers. It seemed she had had several owners, none of
whom recognized her value. She had
become terribly arthritic in her front feet and moved with a powerful shuffle.
I was ecstatic! I had found Commander’s Ann and I was not
about to lose track of her again. I
contacted several people who had known Ann – known her pedigree and her history
and I collected affidavits of identity and comparative photographs which I
submitted to the American Saddlebred Registry.
I was able to track down one member of her original owners family who
provided a positive identification with very old pictures combined with
pictures I had of her during her stay with me, and a current one! There was absolutely no doubt of her identity
in my mind, and the total proof to everybody came when I moved Commander in and
he immediately jumped the fence and joyously reunited with her. The Registry honored our affidavits and Ann
received a copy of her original papers.
Commander and Ann were both
getting old. Although no horse could
ever approach Commanders importance to me, the thought of one day being without
him was so bleak that I decided to breed Ann to a half-brother of Commanders. I had to keep those two going in my
life. The thought of not having my
Commander was intolerable! The idea of
keeping him alive through a foal of Ann’s sired by his half-brother made the
future a little brighter.
Ann was a relatively small mare,
about 15.1h, and the sire I chose to breed her to was also small. Obviously I wanted Ann’s’ foal to be as much
like Commander as possible, but the horse I picked as the sire was the only
half-brother of Commander available at stud within a reasonable distance. The product of this breeding was uncanny.
Ann’s’ Courageous Commander
reached 17.2h when he finally stopped growing!
Bright chestnut like Ann, huge and powerful like Commander, Courage
combined qualities of both, but was very definitely his own personality!
Being settled in the house with
Commander outside my bedroom window and Ann and Courage next door was my idea
of heaven! I resumed teaching riding on
a limited basis always leaving the decision as to whether or not to take a
prospective student up to Commander. If
he liked someone his expression and his entire being would be mellow and
careful. If someone was not to his
liking (usually loud or pushy people) Commander would bite me. I never allowed anyone to stay near Commander
without his blessing, and he taught six people during this time to be
excellent, caring and talented riders.
Commanders’ attitude toward
Courage was curious. I thought Coco
would love Courage – he was Ann’s’ foal and was so like Commander, but I was
very wrong. Almost tragically wrong! Commander devoted every free moment to
figuring out how to get Courage.
Evidently he knew that Courage was in essence his replacement. It was not until Courage was grown and
Commander was in his twenties that Coco finally limited his harassment of poor
Courage to bites.
Susar I
Space and the encroachment of
civilization forced another move when Courage was two. I acquired three acres, a small house and a
barn in the middle of a lovely oak grove.
I took a partner and we dubbed the “spread” Susar Farm. I continued to teach riding and began
training Courage. A task that was to
prove the most difficult of my rather extended experience!
Commander did not take kindly to
my human partnership! Accustomed to
charming people with a glib tongue and a cheerful manner, my partner set out to
make friends with Commander. One evening
she armed herself with a pocketful of carrots and a head full of smug certainty
and hiked down to the pasture spouting horse niceties. Commander could spot a phony fifty miles away
and he knew full well this babbling human didn’t mean a word she said. He nonchalantly sauntered up, partook of the
carrots and then turned around and kicked my partner!! That was the first, last, and only time Commander ever kicked anyone
and he did it on purpose and with malice!
My partner never tried to con Commander again. In fact it was a while before she got very
close to him again! Eventually the two
earned each others love and respect, but it was a slow process.
Susar Farm in the oak trees was a
magic place. The horses were happy and
people kept coming and requesting riding lessons. It has always been my desire to instill in
people the benefits of careful, loving handling of horses. Too many people inadvertently torture horses
out of ignorant desire to “show them who is boss”. I strongly believe in reward and the dressage
methods of training both horses and riders, and have spent much time passing
this philosophy on. When the opportunity
arouse to acquire a full fledged horse operation completely with a Colonial
barn, arenas, and acreage, my partner and I decided to have a go at it.
Susar II
Susar Farm II was a palace
compared to any equine facility I had ever had before and it was with a
combination of eagerness and reluctance that the move from the small oak
covered farm was made. Furniture,
equipment, hay (several hundred bales of it!) and clothes were moved first and
the new farm was polished and made ready for the horses. I anticipated Commander being delighted with
his new quarters which consisted of his own three acre pasture and his old gal
Ann across the fence from him. I had
leased Ann and she was to be bred to my Arabian stallion for a half-Arab
Half-Saddlebred foal. I got the younger
horses moved and settled in first and then headed back to the old farm to get
Commander. I could not believe it when I
opened the trailer door and this veteran of thousands of miles of trailer
travel laid back his ears and flat refused to enter the trailer. As I have said before, I never made Commander
do anything, and at his advanced age I was not about to argue with him over a
horse trailer. I felt that with his good
sense and almost uncanny knowledge of the world there was probably a board
loose in the floorboard or a tire about to blow! We just left the truck and trailer and I rode
Coco to his new home. Commander’s
refusal to enter that trailer has haunted me ever since.
Susar II X-mas party
We got settled at the new farm in
November. In December we held our first
open horse show where Commander again took a beginning rider he had been
training in her first show, and as always, won the class! At Christmas we had a huge barn party,
complete with Christmas tree in the barn, wreathes on all the stalls, and
stockings for each horse.
After a cold winter we greeted
spring and a new beginning at the new farm with enthusiasm. Ann was in foal, farm shows were on the
drawing board and big shows were being put on the calendar. It was a very wet spring with numerous
violent and unexpected thunder storms.
The horses all had stalls, but the old veterans Commander and Ann,
preferred to brave the elements uncovered.
Ann was having trouble with the arthritis in her front fetlock joints
and she discovered that if she put both front feet in the water trough she
achieved some relief.
The farm was cross fenced with
performance geldings and broodmares in adjoining pastures. The fence line was attached to a row of giant
oak trees that provided both welcome shade in the summer and shelter for the
loafing stalls in the winter. Commander
and Ann spent their days and nights side by side under the trees. Frequently I would find them dozing with
their heads resting on each others withers over the fence. Evidently they were sleeping like this the
night of the big storm. It was late May,
warm and sultry and all the horses were listless and bored. The air was heavy and still, the atmosphere
oppressive. We had gone to bed early and
were sleeping fitfully when a dreadful lightening storm hit. The sky was white with flashes, thunder shook
the house and rain came down so hard and fast that the windows could not
contain the water. The storm lasted
several hours and then quite suddenly.
The air cooled and the stickiness in the atmosphere cleared.
In the morning when I went
outside to feed, branches and leaves were everywhere; jumps were scattered over
the ring, and low areas were under water.
I fed in the barn and then started out to the pastures, the intensely
bright clear sunlight momentarily blinding me.
As I rounded the corner of the house I saw Commander and Ann. They were lying peacefully side by side with
the fence between them. Their noses were
touching under the fence and they were both dead.
The emotions and incidents that
followed are lost in shroud of grief.
The conclusions drawn by the vet were that the horses were asleep with
their heads over the fence when lightening struck the top of the tallest tree
sending the shock down the fence line and immediately and painlessly killing
both of them.
UnConclusion
Commander’s death was a grievous
loss to me personally, but with the knowledge that we all indeed must and will
die, the method of Commander and Ann’s departure could not have been more
appropriate had it been planned.
Commander died whole, proud and the master of himself and his
environment. He died braving a storm,
being unafraid and undaunted, and he died with his beloved Ann beside him. The loss I still feel is selfish, Commander
died the best way and at the best time.
He was twenty four years old, healthy, happy, and not yet ravished by
time or illness.
Commander taught fifteen people
not only to ride, but to respect and love horses, and to communicate that
knowledge. At least one of his former
students (and they were his, not
mine), is now a professional horseman, and all of them carry a patience, a
sense of accomplishment, pride and dignity.
No one ever forgot the feeling of powerful unity when they flew with
Commander; and no one ever forgot the rebuke they got if they reverted to
temper or false pride.
Comments
Post a Comment