Unfortunately in the beginning, my courage didn't match my level of enthusiasm. My first pony, Champ, was as naughty as he was cute. Light gray, almost white, and came complete with a black Western saddle with red seat and tapederos on the stirrups - quite a sight! Although he wasn't selected from our herd of ponies, I probably would have fared better with one of our unbroken homebreds. Champ had a knack for rubbing me off on trees, eating grass at inopportune times, and bucking at will. All of these lovely attributes led me to a quick decision to forget the pony and ride my dad's cow horse, Red.....a much safer choice!
Red was a good hearted old Quarter Horse with a head like a hammer and a mouth of steel. He never did anything bad, but really enjoyed the trip back to the barn after our trail rides. He would canter and jig the entire way.
Oh, did I mention that he was terrible to catch? A rather large problem since the farm's 1,500 acres were divided into smaller fields of 150 plus acres. Always determined, I would trudge through the grass, feed bucket and halter in hand, praying he would cooperate. My resolve, or hard headedness, paid off because riding Red over the dirt roads and fields of the farm were the happiest times of my childhood. He would never win the model or the hack class and surely couldn't jump, but he was wise and good natured.
Every kid should be lucky enough to have a Red as their first teacher and pal.
