Saturdays Stink by George Stalzer

As a young boy I dreaded one Saturday chore most of all. With two days off from school I should have been happy, but after looking under the stoop I knew it was going to be another one of those terrible Saturday mornings. I sat down to wait and listen for the sound of Tony and his fruit and vegetable wagon coming up the hill. “Why don’t he come on school days?” I thought. And then I heard him “Fresh Fruit! – Fresh Vegetable!” and the sound of hoofs clip clopping along. Tony led Caroline around the corner, and to the bottom of our dead end street, guiding her and the wagon in a half circle to stop right in front of our house. Tony fed her an apple, a reward, I suppose, for the steep climb. The neighborhood ladies did their shopping while Caroline stood quietly, her ears sticking through holes in a straw hat sitting atop her head, and her tail whipping side to side chasing the flies away. Caroline was something special to the little kids staring at this huge animal right in front of their door. The older, brave ones, moved close enough to run their hands along her smooth rounded belly. I sat watching Caroline’s rump and wondered if it was the apple that triggered what happened almost every Saturday morning. With the ladies done shopping, Tony prepared to move on. “Come on girl” gently tugging on the reins, but Caroline wouldn’t budge. Then it happened, just like I knew it would, plop plop plop — plop. They moved off now and Grandma called from the window “Georgie! the shovel is under the —” “Yeah! I know Grandma!!” I tried to get it all in one scoop, anything to avoid a second trip and more taunting as the older kids pointed, laughed and carried on while the younger ones wondered what in the world I wanted with that stuff. In the backyard Grandma supervised as I spread it evenly around the Rose bushs. The neighbors raved about Grandma’s beautiful Roses and said she must have a green thumb, but I think Caroline and I deserved equal credit with Grandma.

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Saturdays Stink by George Stalzer

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| Mister Robinson | A Grey Thoroughbred Horse with Character | Horse Story

“After taking a year off horseback riding-I had to ride again. I’m not the same without riding. I found ‘Mister. Robinson’ by accident and we became the best of friends. What a character ! He played lots of funny tricks on people he wasn’t sure about.” A.H.

Mister Robinson, the Stinker by Angela Howe

In 2006 I decided to take a year off riding because of back problems.  I had been riding for 20 years and was so blessed to accomplish my dream of working with horses for a career.  I was an assistant trainer and loved my job!  I would ride up to 8 horses a day, 5 days a week.   After 5 years of doing my dream job, the wear and tear got the best of me and my back needed a serious break (you know what I mean).   Any horse person knows that time away from horses is very difficult and a sad time.

After a year off, I felt much better and decided I wanted to look for a horse to start riding.  I promised myself no “projects” or horses with “issues”.   I used to love a challenge, but now I thought it would be best to start with just trail riding on a sane horse.  I have always ridden English and did the Jumpers.  I figured a Western barn would most likely have an old Quarter Horse that I could take on trails.

I drove on my mission and found a western barn.  I found the owner of the ranch who was sitting with some people chatting, laughing, and having a few beers.  I love that!  We got to talking and I explained my situation, how I used to do Jumpers but was trying to go another route.  The owner said well, I have a TB that no one rides, come look at him his name is Mister Robinson.  As soon as I saw him I was hooked!  I love TB’s and he was grey, my favorite.  Now, the story the owner gave me was that they bought Mister Robinson for the trainer who ended up not getting along with him (we know what that means) and they were stuck with him.  I was told he was a handful and to get off him immediately if he starts acting up.  He hadn’t been ridden in months, well, because no one wanted to ride him.

I brushed off that little angel on my shoulder telling me, don’t do it and said I’m in!

I tell you what; I was the talk of the barn “that girl who is going to ride Mister Robinson”.   I was warned and was told many stories of this guy and people were watching me like a hawk to see what was going to happen.  Mister Robinson looked me up and down with a high head and snorting nose.  I tacked him up and led him to the mounting block (after I had lunged him of course).  I gathered my reins, went to put my foot in the stirrup and off he went like a bat out of hell….without me.  Oh, you could tell he thought he was funny as he was racing around the arena.  I caught him and tried again.  Success!  We just walked and trotted that day.  The next day I got on him and he wouldn’t go forward…at all.  I kicked and kicked and nothing.  I was as patient as possible and finally we were off.  He would spook here and there and I wouldn’t make a big deal, I just wanted him to trust me first.

When he brushed me against the rail and stopped, backed his butt against the rail and kicked, I was done playing around.  I hopped off and grabbed my crop.  I kept it as hidden as I could and he tried it again.  I turned my crop over and wacked him a few times, and that was the end of that.  Our relationship changed from that point on.  Mister Robinson had respect for me now and we moved forward.  He was so happy that someone gave him attention, got him out of that stall, and rode him well.  He would nicker at me every time I walked in the barn.  We developed such a bond.  I love his quirky side and I think he is just hilarious how he pulls tricks on people and horses.  He loves to set off other horses and still plays tricks on new people.  He’s been for sale since I’ve been riding him and without fail has played some nasty tricks on everyone who rode him.

I can’t help but laugh inside, it’s just him, and he’s very smart.  I have a horse of my own now and luckily Mister Robinson has found a new friend who rides him so well.  He loves her very much, but doesn’t forget me.  He still sticks his head out when he hears my voice and nickers.  He’ll always be my favorite horse.

Post from: Horse Stories | Horse2Heart Equestrian News and Great Horse Stories

Horse Story | Mister Robinson | A Grey Thoroughbred Horse with Character

Be ready to accept that animals can also romance. This horse story will define the bondage, love and emotional relationship between innocent animals. A truly amazing story about love affairs of horses…

Alluring Love Affairs| A Horse Story With Romantic Angles

By: Amy K. Habak

I first noticed it as a teenager. The horses at the ranch I worked for had boyfriends and girlfriends. What? Horses don’t have feelings like love, you say. Ah, but that’s only to the uneducated eye. Watch your herd dynamics as diligently as you watch your teenage sons and daughters, and you’ll soon discover that horses do indeed love that special companion.

Every night after they were unsaddled, the 80+ horses at this camp would run into the pasture. Pausing briefly to roll the feel of the saddle off their back, they immediately started a chorus of neighs. Babe would run to Oreo. Quixote was off to find Cindy. Thunder nuzzled up to Penny. It seemed every horse had a mate. After finding their mates, they would break off from the main herd into little families or perhaps two to three couples. There they would graze in their own little circle till morning round up.

In the horsy romances I’ve witnessed, the geldings always seem more smitten than the mares. Take the mare away; the gelding goes crazy, whinnying as if he’ll never see her again. Take the gelding away, and the mare just watches him leave and goes back to happily grazing. Apparently mares are more confident their admirer will be back for more lovin’. Mares seem to be more independent, intrinsically feeling their own self worth, not needing a trophy to prove it.

However, my own palomino mare who lived at the camp definitely was not immune to the love bug. During her camp years, I learned a lot about her taste in men. She and a chestnut pony named Ethan became enamored with each other. Ethan was not a favorite among the camp staff, due to his extremely slow, stubborn ways. He was forever holding up our trail rides. I chastised Sunday for having anything to do with such a dork, but she failed to listen. After all, what do moms know? He was a chestnut and that was what she liked best.

Once another gelding tempted Sunday. Red Wing, a younger chestnut, full of life and fire, lured Sunday briefly away from steady Ethan. Sunday failed to realize she couldn’t tame such a wild heart though. Red Wing started playing around with other mares, and one day I saw Sunday give him a fierce good-bye bite and kick. That was the end of that brief fling. I tried to warn her that if you play with fire you get burned! The mellow and wise Ethan had patiently waited through Sunday and Red Wing’s escapade; he knew his blonde would come running back.

Sunday had realized her mistake and seemed to become more serious with Ethan than ever. That’s why I really worried when I finally moved Sunday to a new boarding farm, closer to my house. How could I break up such a true love? I felt like a monster. But where there are mares and geldings there will always be opportunities for new romance. Sunday was lucky enough to be chosen by a new suitor. This chestnut knew a good thing when he saw it. The Quarter/Arabian gelding named Joey helped Sunday to settle in at her new home. She now had a new shadow by her side. For years I worried what she would do when this geriatric gelding died. So how could I be so mean as to tear apart yet another happy relationship myself?

Job duties called and I found myself moving Sunday to another boarding farm, this one in North Georgia. As luck would have it, yet another chestnut gelding caught Sundays’ eye. This mammoth Quarter horse looked more like a workhorse. Strong and powerful, Sunday’s new man protected her from the 17 other horses in the herd. She had it made. Due to ringbone, Sunday led a basically retired life, occasionally carrying me on a light trail ride around cotton fields. Her man led a pretty quiet life as well. This left them much time to journey the 50-acre field, eating side by side, grooming each other, shielding each other from flies, usually away from the main herd. It appeared their relationship was naught but sweet bliss.

The fact that this was now Sunday’s fourth chestnut boyfriend intrigued me. Did all horses desire boy/girlfriends and did they all have color preferences? Sunday certainly had opportunity to be with horses of other colors. I began to look around and discovered that interestingly enough, my other mare, a much younger stocky Paint seemed to have color preferences as well. Kiowa was never seen with any gelding but a flea-bitten gray. Lucky for her, her new home had just the one she was looking for.

Are these equine romances fleeting? I don’t think so. Take for example Peaches and Jackson. Jackson, a tall liver chestnut Saddlebred met Peaches, a sweet POA mare, one spring at the horse camp in north Georgia where I worked. While Jackson remained a misfit with the rest of the herd, the lanky Saddlebred and the plump pony quickly paired up. Whenever we took Peaches out of the paddock to do her riding duty, Jackson screamed in protest. Up and down the fence line, he’d scramble, often running his shoes completely off on the rocky north Georgia soil. His relationship with Peaches was not one which would quickly be forgotten. After Jackson spent his summer at a sister camp, I thought his bond with the little mare would be broken. But sure enough come fall, after a sweet reunion, the two were just as inseparable. It was as if he’d never left.

The faithfulness was also strong for Winnie and Thermo. Thermo, a discriminating chestnut Quarter mare had chosen Winnie, a plucky bay Quarter gelding, to be her mate. They shared the same piles of hay, walked around the paddock together, and were even lucky enough to share stalls next to each other. But when Winnie journeyed to the sister camp for a season, Thermo was lonely. She decided to hook up with Buster, a non-descript Quarter gelding. She sighed and seemed to say, “He’ll do in a pinch.” Buster couldn’t believe his luck and seemed to thoroughly enjoy this twist of fate. The little gelding perked up and seemed to have a spark in his eye. He thought he had won her over. But then Winnie came prancing back. Thermo, with ears laid back, gave Buster a powerful kick, which was seconded by Winnie. As Winnie and Thermo once again shared their hay piles and their life, Buster could only wander off and hang his head.

Given this seeming devoted and lasting affection, how could I be so cruel to tear both my mares away from their boyfriends again? The thought tears me up. But sometimes parents have to make choices they don’t want to make. Sunday and Kiowa will be moving back up north soon. And while they may not forget their latest chestnut and flea-bitten gray boys, I have faith that my girls will find happy coupledom again.

As Sunday and Kiowa tell me, there are always more chestnuts and grays in the sea.

Amy K. Habak

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Alluring Love Affairs| A Horse Story With Romantic Angles