The Adventures of Ramblin' Rose: Horses I Have Known

I know I blaspheme myself in Montana when I say this, but my favorite pets have always been horses. Out here horses generally are considered more like equipment for working cattle or the range. No sentiments, please. But according to the dictionary, a pet is an animal that is a companion and an object of affection. I never saw a rancher talking to his tractor like he does his horse.

I might possibly remember all our dogs names that we had growing up, but it would take some effort. My horses on the other hand I can reel off without a single pause. I started at the age of four with a Shetland pony named Lucky. Shetland ponies are ornery and worst of all have to always trot to keep up with the big guys. At six, when I got tired of constant side aches from so much trotting and having to never turn my back on Lucky for fear I would get bitten, I asked for a real horse to ride. I swore to myself I would never subject my kids to a Shetland pony, a promise that I have kept.

Comanche, a bay quarterhorse, was my next horse. I probably had Comanche for three or four years. I have to confess, I managed to take a fairly decent horse and absolutely ruin him. I spoiled Comanche endlessly in my efforts to turn him into a trained circus horse. He always got the treat part right, but never the trick.

After Comanche, came Annie, an Appaloosa. Annie was notable for her mediocrity. She wasn't the slowest but she wasn't the fastest. And she wasn't the biggest, the prettiest, or the ugliest. I felt badly shopping for a new horse just because I wanted something a little more exciting and challenging. But then I found Pecos...

Pecos was a big, strong, sorrel raised on the flat as a cow horse. When I got Pecos I was riding a lot of mountain trails and he was a bit clumsy with all that down and up stuff. But if I got him around cattle he became the lightest-stepping, flick-of-the-reins, most-responsive horse ever. There was no doubt that working cattle was his love.

Pecos introduced me to the delights of a fast walking horse. He was always out in front. He really only had one other gait and that was a dead run. No horse could match him for tearing across a meadow, in one fast swoop. As a teenager, I loved the adrenaline rush of it. Pecos lived into his mid-twenties and was strong right up to the last.

Tilly, the man-hating mare, followed Pecos. I got her when I was riding in the local side-saddle club and needed a horse with more gaits than just walk and full-out run. She was feisty with a temper to boot.

There were certain rules that you followed with Tilly and if you did, you had no problems from her, but forget them and she turned into one nasty bundle.

Rule No 1: Bug spray! She hated flies and got very cranky if a lot of horse flies came after her. Eventually she wold bolt and it didn't matter if you weren't ready or were taking a break on the ground to enjoy the view...Tilly was history, Sayonara, out-of-there.

Rule No 2: Wear no spurs. She wasn't a horse that needed them anyway, but occasionally someone who didn't know that would ride her. It didn't take long for Tilly to dump the offender off her back.

Rule No 3: No men...ever. If I had been a horse therapist, I would have treated her for some kind of past abuse that involed a male with spurs, but since I wasn't, I got a kick out of watching macho men get dumped on various parts of their anatomy when attempting to ride Tilly. The biggest affront to their dignity was that it was a MARE that had caused their downfall.

But Tilly wasn't all bad temper. She had about as many gaits as a horse could have and every one of them was smooth as silk. You couldn't look like a bad rider on Tilly...unless you were a man.

After Tilly came Sandy...

My last horse was Sandy. She was similar to Pecos with her fast walk, love of running and her endurance. Some might not have considered her much to look at. She was on the skinny side and all white-haired. White-haired horses tend to be more sensitive to the sun, bug bites and other skin traumas. Sandy was no exception and had quite a few scars. By the end of the riding season she always looked pretty gaunt. Like most fast-walking horses, she hated being in the back and would give you trouble until you let her get in front. I took her on many pack trips and had to make sure I was pulling a pack mule that could keep up with her or my pullin' arm felt the difference. Sandy never slacked off and you could count on her at the end of a long, hard day to be going just as strong as when she started. She'd never balk at anything you asked of her.

About five years ago, I quit riding Sandy, when I got pregnant. I loaned her to my daughter and never got her back. I liked the thought, though, of the two of them together. Last summer my daughter rode Sandy in the 4th of July Ennis parade. I suggested to my daughter that maybe a better looking horse might give her a chance at a prize. I was given a look of scorn to even be suggesting such an act of betrayal. Luckily, the judges didn't seem to mind Sandy's bony hips and various scars and liked the way the two looked together. My daughter and Sandy came home with first prize in their category.

Little did we know that that was Sandy's last hurrah. She died last winter during one of the really cold spells. She was pretty ancient as far as horses go, so it was considered a natural death. My daughter is looking for a new horse but it's hard to top one like Sandy. It'll take a while to feel comfortable with another one and not always be comparing it to Sandy. Somewhere out there, though, is another fast-walking, smooth-gaited, big-hearted horse.

And that age-old process of making a loyal friend in the animal kingdom will happen all over again.

Till our next adventure,
Ramblin' Rose

All in all, there are more than 12 different colors and color patterns for horses. A great site for more information about all of them is here.

Below are four different horse "colors." Take the test at the end and see if you are are right (answers in the guestbook).