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and a couple other events <img src="/metal/html/wink.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt="
">
Sam was a wonder, as genuine a character as only a shiny, coal black Quarter horse Welsh cross can be! <img src="/metal/html/grin.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":grin">
I acquired him as a three year old from an elderly lady, whom i knew to be the sweetest, but best and most conniving horsetrader in the county. Her name was Beryl and she looked like everyones favorite old auntie or Gramma.
We two swapped horses back and forth all the time, each of us had our marks....er ....markets <img src="/metal/html/grin.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":grin"> now don't be getting me wrong here, the horse racket....er...business, is an imperfect science, as there are few if any perfect horses in this world, one or two maybe.....and i think Fred has them both <img src="/metal/html/lol.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":lol"> We truly never dealt in bad, mean, or dangerous animals. Just that one had to be creative to survive in the business of selling everyday ordinary horses, you know, the 4 or 5 hundred dollar meat and potatoes (cheval steak anyone?) kind of steeds.
I had been looking for a nice smallish 14-2 to 14-3 hand "kid horse" for my trail riding and guiding business when i saw Sam in her corral. He was a perfect "mini" Quarter Horse, classic head and conformation, as well as the shiniest black i ever saw! I casually asked her about him while looking at another horse, she said, hey you should look close at that one, he is goshdarn bulletproof, and just a long three year old, lotta sense he has! Right away i was suspicious, Beryl did not often praise up a horse like that. I started thinking that maybe she was still po-ed at me for selling her that real good pretty filly that just plain hated anybody touching her feet! <img src="/metal/html/shocked.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":shock"> <img src="/metal/html/grin.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":grin">
Well the dance was on, when it was done i had bought Sam, against my instincts, (which were only half right that time) Ok, he was a darn poor loader and later i would find out his full name! On account of i would create it!
Sam took to life in my herd with a bang! Within minutes he singled out the "boss" horse and immediately hung a lickin on him, despite being outweighed by 400 lbs and two full hands shorter <img src="/metal/html/shocked.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":shock"> well allright, thats the way it works in a herd and somebody is gonna be boss, also it will change now and then. After a few weeks i realised that this situation was different, it took me that long because i was testing Sam. I tried all my bag of tricks, the standard stuff like whirling my lariat around him, no dice, he did not even flick an ear. I fired my heavy rifle near him and all he did was flinch a bit, no panic, just a little ripple on his hide. I let the cinch loose and an old saddle slip under his belly while i ponied him, no reaction, he just stopped and waited for me to do it up. The dog could run under his belly and between his legs, he could care less. My daughters loved him, and he them. They geehawed him around the pasture bareback with only a halter or a piece of bindertwine. He would come running when he heard them come home from school, whinnying and cavorting.....and i was still wondering what Beryl knew that i didn't!? That good horse was just too darn good a price <img src="/metal/html/confused.gif" border=0 width=15 height=22 alt=":?">
Sam turned out to be a lovable vandal and a thief! My mind had not picked up on the things that were too often scattered in the pasture, things that i blamed the kids for, like a blanket laying in the dirt by the barn and all stomped up by horses. The radio antenna broken off my truck! The henhouse gate left open and the eggs gone! Yes that booger ate eggs! As i later found out. All kinds of little items that were not a big deal now and then, specially with kids around, but lately coming too close together. The poor girls protested their innocense, but as we were far out in the country with few other kids or folk around, i was not so ready to believe them, though they seemed more sincere than usual in their protests <img src="/metal/html/cry.gif" border=0 width=40 height=15 alt=":cry">
Then one late afternoon i had been out walking down by the river, hoping to pot a Pheasant, no luck, and returning home as dusk deepened. It was my favorite time of a summer evening and as i crested a little hill a hundred yards from the house, i sat on a hummock and just looked with pride at my little Ranch. The horses were all scattered in the 30 acre pasture that bordered the house and barn, all except Sam, it was not hard to notice his absence, he stood out as he was the only black colored horse we had out of 16 head at that time. There were a couple of Bays, several Palominos and Duns, two paints, one White, some Sorels a Grey, "Horse eating stump Brandy" (see archives) and my buddy Frosty the Appaloosa.
A movement near the barn caught my attention, a blacker than the dark shadows kind of movement. I knew it could only be Sam and not suspicious but curious, i lifted my 10-22 Ruger from my lap and peered through the scope just as Sam reached the rest of the way over the closed bottom half of the Dutch door to the tackroom and chomped down on my nearly new triple x Stetson which i had left setting on a saddlehorn! Shocked, i hollered and lit out running towards the barn as that Black Bastard began stomping it! He knew he was busted and lit out for the pasture, and i stood looking at the ruin of my best hat and wondering if i should have chambered a round?! Nothing to do then but apologise to the girls.......and watch Sam! Mostly known after that as "Sam you Black Bastard" <img src="/metal/html/lol.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":lol"> Beryl had the last laugh, and no way could i give up that character of a horse!
There are some more and better Sam stories and though writing them can be therapeutic, tonight i am plumb wore out. ........later i will take you good folks for a mountain hunt with "Sam you Black #######" <img src="/metal/html/grin.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":grin">
Wayne
">Sam was a wonder, as genuine a character as only a shiny, coal black Quarter horse Welsh cross can be! <img src="/metal/html/grin.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":grin">
I acquired him as a three year old from an elderly lady, whom i knew to be the sweetest, but best and most conniving horsetrader in the county. Her name was Beryl and she looked like everyones favorite old auntie or Gramma.
We two swapped horses back and forth all the time, each of us had our marks....er ....markets <img src="/metal/html/grin.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":grin"> now don't be getting me wrong here, the horse racket....er...business, is an imperfect science, as there are few if any perfect horses in this world, one or two maybe.....and i think Fred has them both <img src="/metal/html/lol.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":lol"> We truly never dealt in bad, mean, or dangerous animals. Just that one had to be creative to survive in the business of selling everyday ordinary horses, you know, the 4 or 5 hundred dollar meat and potatoes (cheval steak anyone?) kind of steeds.
I had been looking for a nice smallish 14-2 to 14-3 hand "kid horse" for my trail riding and guiding business when i saw Sam in her corral. He was a perfect "mini" Quarter Horse, classic head and conformation, as well as the shiniest black i ever saw! I casually asked her about him while looking at another horse, she said, hey you should look close at that one, he is goshdarn bulletproof, and just a long three year old, lotta sense he has! Right away i was suspicious, Beryl did not often praise up a horse like that. I started thinking that maybe she was still po-ed at me for selling her that real good pretty filly that just plain hated anybody touching her feet! <img src="/metal/html/shocked.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":shock"> <img src="/metal/html/grin.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":grin">
Well the dance was on, when it was done i had bought Sam, against my instincts, (which were only half right that time) Ok, he was a darn poor loader and later i would find out his full name! On account of i would create it!
Sam took to life in my herd with a bang! Within minutes he singled out the "boss" horse and immediately hung a lickin on him, despite being outweighed by 400 lbs and two full hands shorter <img src="/metal/html/shocked.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":shock"> well allright, thats the way it works in a herd and somebody is gonna be boss, also it will change now and then. After a few weeks i realised that this situation was different, it took me that long because i was testing Sam. I tried all my bag of tricks, the standard stuff like whirling my lariat around him, no dice, he did not even flick an ear. I fired my heavy rifle near him and all he did was flinch a bit, no panic, just a little ripple on his hide. I let the cinch loose and an old saddle slip under his belly while i ponied him, no reaction, he just stopped and waited for me to do it up. The dog could run under his belly and between his legs, he could care less. My daughters loved him, and he them. They geehawed him around the pasture bareback with only a halter or a piece of bindertwine. He would come running when he heard them come home from school, whinnying and cavorting.....and i was still wondering what Beryl knew that i didn't!? That good horse was just too darn good a price <img src="/metal/html/confused.gif" border=0 width=15 height=22 alt=":?">
Sam turned out to be a lovable vandal and a thief! My mind had not picked up on the things that were too often scattered in the pasture, things that i blamed the kids for, like a blanket laying in the dirt by the barn and all stomped up by horses. The radio antenna broken off my truck! The henhouse gate left open and the eggs gone! Yes that booger ate eggs! As i later found out. All kinds of little items that were not a big deal now and then, specially with kids around, but lately coming too close together. The poor girls protested their innocense, but as we were far out in the country with few other kids or folk around, i was not so ready to believe them, though they seemed more sincere than usual in their protests <img src="/metal/html/cry.gif" border=0 width=40 height=15 alt=":cry">
Then one late afternoon i had been out walking down by the river, hoping to pot a Pheasant, no luck, and returning home as dusk deepened. It was my favorite time of a summer evening and as i crested a little hill a hundred yards from the house, i sat on a hummock and just looked with pride at my little Ranch. The horses were all scattered in the 30 acre pasture that bordered the house and barn, all except Sam, it was not hard to notice his absence, he stood out as he was the only black colored horse we had out of 16 head at that time. There were a couple of Bays, several Palominos and Duns, two paints, one White, some Sorels a Grey, "Horse eating stump Brandy" (see archives) and my buddy Frosty the Appaloosa.
A movement near the barn caught my attention, a blacker than the dark shadows kind of movement. I knew it could only be Sam and not suspicious but curious, i lifted my 10-22 Ruger from my lap and peered through the scope just as Sam reached the rest of the way over the closed bottom half of the Dutch door to the tackroom and chomped down on my nearly new triple x Stetson which i had left setting on a saddlehorn! Shocked, i hollered and lit out running towards the barn as that Black Bastard began stomping it! He knew he was busted and lit out for the pasture, and i stood looking at the ruin of my best hat and wondering if i should have chambered a round?! Nothing to do then but apologise to the girls.......and watch Sam! Mostly known after that as "Sam you Black Bastard" <img src="/metal/html/lol.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":lol"> Beryl had the last laugh, and no way could i give up that character of a horse!
There are some more and better Sam stories and though writing them can be therapeutic, tonight i am plumb wore out. ........later i will take you good folks for a mountain hunt with "Sam you Black #######" <img src="/metal/html/grin.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":grin">
Wayne