by Connie Foss
A wall that has bars on the top half, just like home, separates Julie’s and my stalls. I appreciate her closeness and being able to rub noses, but I’d rather we could scratch each other’s withers.We nicker back and forth after our grooming, and I for one, though a bit anxious,
the smells, the colorful stalls and fancily dressed people. There are horses everywhere.
There’s a lot going on in the show barn. People and horses hurry by the stalls, joking and laughing…the people, not the horses.The horses are talking, and what I hear the horses say is strange.
“Gerty, here we are back at another silly show. Nice to see you again, but I don’t much like shows. Do you?” That’s a bay gelding from across the aisle. He’s talking to a chestnut mare, who’s stabled next to him.
“Oh, shows are okay, but I don’t see what all the fuss is about. Well, you do what you have to do,” and Gertie drops her head and goes back to eating her hay.
Is all of this silly? Maybe it is. Maybe days at home in the pasture are a heap sight better than all of this carrying on.At this point, I don’t
“How’s she look?” Meg asks Bill, as she stands Julie up in the barn aisle, as though she is showing her to the judge.
“Considering she doesn’t have much of a mane or tail yet, there’s not much more you can do.Well, you could put a little Vaseline around her eyes to brighten them a bit.”
“I’m afraid Bubba’s going to cause trouble when I take Julie to the class.You’ll stay with him, won’t you, Bill? Since he’s cleaned up and ready for his class, we don’t want him rolling and getting dirty.”
The show announcer is calling the classes. When he calls for the Purebred Weanling Fillies, Meg hooks a number on the back of her collar, grabs Julie’s lead, and, smiling at Bill, says, “Wish us luck.” With that, Julie and Meg head toward the show ring.
Julie’s gone! My buddy.This is terrible! How could Meg leave me behind? I give Bill a hard time, but it doesn’t help. It seems like forever before I see Meg leading Julie back.Thank goodness, here they come!
You can tell Meg’s disappointed, but she says to Julie,“You were so good, girl! You stood well, looked good, and you did everything I asked you to…just no ribbon to hang on the stall door. That’s no big deal, right Sweetie?”
“Hey, Jules, how’d it go?” I have no idea what she and Meg did, and Julie doesn’t have much to report…just that they trotted around a ring and stood a while.Then each walked up to a woman standing in the center, trotted away, and stood some more.
“You know, Bubba, it’s true what the other horses are saying about how silly this is. Oh, well, whatever.” Julie’s like that. She just relaxes into any situation and calmly accepts it.
“Bill, I’m glad you’re the one to show Bubba in his class,” Meg says.“A man showing a colt is nice, but I enjoyed showing Julie.Thanks. I think you were right. She’s so small and dainty, you might have made her look even smaller!”
“It’ll be fun to get Bubba to strut his stuff. Our turn, Bubba!” With that, Bill snaps the leather lead on my halter and we are off.
As we line up at the gate to the show ring, each of the people has a number. On Bill’s back is number 41. I don’t know what that means, but maybe he does. I remember Meg had a number, too, when she went in the ring.There must be a reason.
There’s a bunch of us weanlings, and some are pretty feisty. Yikes, I just missed getting a hind foot in my belly! There’s so much going on! There’s the announcer’s voice, mixed with whinnies coming from inside the show ring, and out here there’s music, hawkers shouting their wares, and just a happy tone to the world. I know I’m not standing as still as Bill wants, so he’s trying to calm me down, but no way.This is too exciting!
As the show ring gate opens, horses and handlers come trotting out. Some of the horses are giving their handlers a hard time, jumping around, trying to run.To be on the safe side, we all move over a bit to let them through. I’m so excited I’m dancing around, too. I just can’t help it!
Once the previous class trots out,we trot in one by one.Bill runs right beside me, urging me on.As the people leaning on the railing begin to ooh and ah, I get even more excited and start prancing. Remember how high I can lift my knees? Those knees are coming way up right now! I’m really jazzed…so jazzed Bill is having trouble keeping up with me. I literally run circles around him as we head around the arena. I had no idea this would be so much fun! Julie didn’t tell me about that.
I don’t know how many others are in the class, but we keep
everyone else how special each of us is, just like Meg told us we would. When it’s my turn, Bill and I walk up to the judge and stand there, while
standing still, I just can’t. My feet want to dance, not stand. I want to see what the judge is doing, so I try to turn with her, but a couple of yanks on my halter, and I get the message.
After the judge tells Bill she’s seen enough, Bill and I take off trotting. Now I get to really strut my stuff. When the people start cheering and clapping, those knees come up even higher.What a thrill!
Back on the rail, Bill is being pretty strict with me, to get me to settle down. In a little while, a voice calls out numbers. “And our second place colt is number 14!” A really good-looking chestnut colt, led by his two-legged friend, trots to the center of the ring, and a little girl hangs a ribbon on his halter. Huh! I wonder what that ribbon’s for. Julie didn’t get one.Then the voice, with great enthusiasm, barks out,“The winner of the Purebred Weanling Colt Class is Sir Hershey, number 41!”
Wow, that’s Bill.Why did he say Sir Hershey? Who’s that? That’s not Bill’s name. It’s certainly not me, ‘cause my name is Bubba. Bill wouldn’t have had to get my attention if he’d said Bubba. People are weird for sure.
Bill and I put on a real show going all the way around the ring in a victory lap.We don’t stop until we’re back at the stalls, where Meg and Julie are whooping it up for us.
Chapter 6
More Trouble
A few weeks later after the show excitement is just a memory, Julie and I are out in the pasture nibbling the tips of the grass and having a good day in the sunshine. Oh, Boy! Here comes the mailman.After he drives up to the box and sticks in the mail, the race is on.That’s part of our daily ritual. He honks his horn as he drives along the fence, and we race him to the corner.
mailbox for a long time reading and rereading a letter.
That evening, when we’re all in the stable, I hear Meg and Bill talking. Hearing my name, I prick up my ears and listen carefully.
“Okay, since we can’t register Bubba as a purebred Arabian, we’ll register him as a Half-Arabian. No big deal,” Bill says as he cleans my
“But Bill, now we’ll have to return the blue ribbon! That’s embarrassing! It’ll look like we were trying to cheat and got caught.” Honesty for Meg is something you do not toy with, and having others possibly misunderstand her situation hurts.
“We entered both of the foals based on what we knew at the time. The registrations were pending. Until the DNA was determined, we didn’t know Bubba was sired by a stallion other than Arabian,” says Bill. Bill is a matter-of-fact guy, who refuses to get upset about anything he can’t change. “Don’t be such a worrywart. It’s okay that Bubba isn’t purebred. He’s still one heck of a horse! Don’t worry, I’ll take the ribbon back on my way to work tomorrow.”
Chapter 7
Elliot Shows Up
During the next year or so, it seems nothing special happens.
working on the long line, Julie and I are turned out in the pasture to play for the rest of the day.
Growing up is full of new experiences and adventures.According to what I hear Bill and Meg say, I’m really growing up, way up. I can tell by how much bigger I am than Julie. Though we’re twins and the same chocolate color…well, actually Julie is milk chocolate and I’m dark chocolate… I’m a whole lot taller. When people stop by the farm to visit, they always talk about how dainty Ju
lie is and how big I am. It’s as though there’s something wrong with me.That worries me, but I guess I’ll just have to think like Bill:There’s nothing I can do about it, so why worry.
Our lessons now include lots of new things. Some of it’s okay, but I’m not a fan of having that rubber bit in my mouth. For a couple of days Meg had us stand in our stalls with the bits in our mouths so we
about slobbering! Yuck.
After a few days, Meg changes the rubber bit to a much smaller
lines on the headstall I begin to understand.All of these things Meg puts on us are to help us know what we’re supposed to do. With the long lines on me, she can walk behind me and show me with the lines which way to go. If she pulls on the left line I turn left, and on the right I turn right.That’s a game we play every morning for a couple of weeks. It’s fun, but too slow. I want to trot and feel the breeze in my mane.
“Hey, goofuss, you’re lookin’ right natty,” a voice says to me one Course, he was gray, not chocolate like you.And he didn’t lift his knees up like you do. But he did like that long line game.”
This squeaky chatter is coming from a little gray rat. His name
doesn’t see him.That’s pretty easy,‘cause there’s always a bale of hay or
his bottom under the water bucket, his little nose busily twitching as he keeps an eye, or rather, a nose out for possible food.
to watch out for poisons and traps like he does.“How come you haven’t been caught in a trap or poisoned?” I once asked him.
clear of ‘em. Sometimes, jes for kicks, I stick a straw in one just to hear it snap. As for the poisons, as temptin’ as they are, I don’ need to eat their tantalizin’ poison. I have much better grub, for I get to clean up what you push out of your feed tub. Good stuff, huh! Thanks, by the way. Knowing I’m the target of the traps and stuff is the hardest part. Why do they want to kill me? What did I ever do to deserve that kind of treatment?”
the cat claims is his kingdom. We all know cats and rats are sworn
let me tell you! That’s the strangest thing.You see, I had jes arrived here, having come from another kingdom, when I met Tom face to face. Such an ugly creature! For the life of me, I ain’t never seed a tougher looking
His injured eye was hanging out of its socket, blood dripping down his muzzle, and he was one hurtin’ guy!
cover if I had any smarts…but how could I let that poor yowling cat howl with pain, when I could help him? So, I gingerly crept closer.With his good eye so scrunched up with the pain, he didn’t recognize me as what he usually thought of as breakfast. Using my deepest voice, so my squeak wouldn’t give me away, I told him I could see what his problem was and I could help.
“His eye ball was just hanging by a thread, so with one crunch of my sharp teeth, he was free from both it and the pain. After he’d chased the badger away, he had run to the cover of a stall and was under a bucket half full of water. Hopping up on the rim, I dumped that water right on his head. The noise that came out of that cat would have curled your whiskers! ‘Course, the water didn’t hurt him, but it
dripping, he was a much cleaner and happier cat. So that’s the straight of it, how Tom and I can live and let live in the same stable.”
Chapter 8
Which Way to Go
As the days of training and playing pass, Julie and I begin to go different directions. Julie is being trained to show in the Western Pleasure classes at the Arabian shows. Since I’m now registered as a Half-Arabian, I can’t be in her classes. Anyway, I’m not the easy trotter she is, for my knees just refuse to stay down.
classes. So when we are used to wearing saddles, one day she puts a full bridle on me.That means she has two sets of reins going from my bits back to her in the saddle. Yes, bits, for I have two bits in my mouth.With these she can tell me to lift my head or pull my nose in, or she can just
much better together…a better team.
our outdoor work paddock, he has a frown on his face.When we come around the circle, Meg stops us and says to Bill,“What’s wrong? Aren’t we doing well?”
he’s so big he’d dwarf the others.” Bill looks and sounds frustrated. “I don’t know what the answer is. We could try the Park class, since it’s for horses with the front action he has, but his body has so much more substance than most Half-Arabs, he might look out of place. I just don’t know.”
When Meg puts me back in my stall, after cooling and grooming me, things don’t feel good. I can tell Meg is uncertain, and that makes me unhappy. Nickering to Julie, I ask,“What’s going on? Why are Bill and Meg unhappy when they talk about me? Is it ‘cause I’m big? What’s wrong with being big? Does it make me bad?”
“I don’t know, Bubba. It doesn’t make sense. I’d love to be as big as you. I feel like such a twerp when I’m next to you.” She’s quiet for a time, and then she says, “Bubba, we can’t live our lives based on what others think about us. We need to know that if we do our best everyday, we can be happy with ourselves.That’s all that matters.”
Chapter 9
Finally a Plan
One late fall evening, as Meg is riding Julie around the indoor arena, they stop in front of Bill who’s watching. “I had coffee with Gretchen this morning,” Meg tells Bill, as Julie catches her breath. “Remember her, Gretchen Gotchalk? She trains Thoroughbreds and warm bloods for jumping and three-day-eventing.”
“You mean the cute blond whose stable is over at Brookside?” “She’s hard to forget, isn’t she?” Meg teased. “Anyway, I was telling her about Bubba, and she’s going to drop by tomorrow and check him out. Have you ever seen him jump that log out in the pasture? He seems to love doing it, so I’m hoping that may be his specialty. Julie is
more ways than one.”
“Meg, do you use cavalettis to train your horses?” Gretchen
asks the next morning. “You know, the poles horses step over and then
jump over?”
“I know what they are, but I’ve never used them. I know if one
of my horses were a stumbler, I would.That would help him pick his feet
up and pay attention to where he puts them. Should I be using them
with every horse?”
Julie they might help. At least they’d give her a little fun. I’ve some extra poles at home if you want to come get them,” Gretchen offers.
Hesitantly and with a little grin,Meg says,“Well,actually,Gretchen, I’m thinking even bigger. I have a proposition for you: I wonder if you’d consider a barter…your training Bubba to jump, in exchange for my teaching your daughter to swim.”
With hardly a hesitation, Gretchen exclaims, “Wow! I like that! We don’t have a pool and you do. I can’t swim and you can, and I know Crystal needs to know how to swim. Gosh, there’s water everywhere, and drowning is such a risk. It worries me. I read the other day that little kids, little like Crystal, who have had lessons, are 88% less apt to drown.” Holding out her hand, Gretchen says, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Chapter 10
Jumping
How can one guy be so lucky! Things are really looking up because Gretchen is a great gal who knows everything about jumping. I already know there’s nothing in the world that makes a guy feel so good as soaring over jumps, and I want to do more and more of it. Now that Gretchen’s helping me, I feel my life has begun!
First thing every lesson, we use the cavalettis. They get my
which I have to step over.Then Gretchen raises one up six inches, then the next, and so on, until I’m jumping over all four, turning and coming back.After I train through the low set, she moves the poles up another six inches. When I get the hang of that, the poles go up another six inches.The higher they get, the more fun I have. First, I’m only walking over the poles, then I’m trotting, and eventually Gretchen has me canter. The poles are a constant, a daily thing. Unless you’ve tried it, you don’t know how much fun a few pieces of wood can be.
Now, don’t get the wrong idea. I’ve been te
lling you how much fun jumping is, but that doesn’t mean learning how to do it is easy.We
session.
Winter is almost over when I hear Meg and Gretchen talking about their plans for me.“I’m going to have a training jump at my stable the last of March,” Gretchen says. “Would you let me ride Bubba in it? We won’t have any judges or anything. Just other horses, mostly warm bloods, jumping over patterns we lay out. There won’t be any entry fee or that sort of thing. Just a chance to give green horses some experience.”
“Oh, will we! Just tell us when, and we’ll be there with bells on!” Meg says excitedly.
Finally, it’s jump day! I can feel the excitement in the air. I felt it begin to build a day or so ago, as Meg gave me a bath and trimming, telling me how beautiful I am. This morning, she is practically dancing she is so excited! Bill is, too, but he tries to cover it up. Not Meg! That’s not her style.
I tell Julie,“We’ll be back tonight, and the next time I go, you will go, too, for it’ll be the Arabian Spring Show.”
She isn’t jealous. She knows how much jumping means to me. So instead of feeling sorry for herself because she has to stay home, she says,“Clear those jumps, Bubba!”
Whoa! When Bill unloads me from the trailer, I have a rude awakening. I thought I was tall! I’m four years old and lots taller than Julie. So when I see the other jumpers, it’s a shocker! I’m 17-hands tall. I’m sure you know a hand is 4 inches.That’s the way they measure us… from the ground to the top of the withers. I’ll bet some of those warm bloods are 19 hands.Whew! Now I know how Julie feels next to me.
All too soon, the day is over.The jumping was fun, and I think I did pretty well. Gretchen seems happy with me, and Bill and Meg are thrilled, but some of those big guys put me to shame! I know I have a ways to go, but it’s going to be a fun trip.
