1966-Voice Of The Tennessee Walking Horse 1966 July Voice RS | Page 28

They say that every adult’s life is strongly influenced by things that happened in childhood days, and I guess there is some truth in that, for I can well remember Papa had a sharp knife. It was often in use to peel an apple, to plug a melon, to cut a switch, or to whittle with. I recall one incident as though it were yesterday, yet more than a half-century has passed since that day. Papa sat on the front step whittling, Mama was in a chair patch­ ing britches, Aunt Lou was reading the Bible, and my little Granny was rocking away. As I approached the side of the rocker, my bare toe was placed under the chair just right to accidentally catch her right in a forward rock which took off the hide and cracked the bone. We did not know what a hospital was, but kerosene and hog lard was applied with loving hands. My point is: I learned then and there wrhat hurt can do to the heart and mind. You see, that cracked bone hurt so much I thought I would die, but Granny said, "Son, you are too big of a man to cry” (I was six), so I just hurt and choked and hurt and learned life goes on. And I after­ wards learned no matter how bad the hurt, things always manage to get better somehow. 28 What I am getting at is the fol­ lowing story. Three years ago, Pearl and I bought a yearling filly. Before the final purchase was made, we had our trainer look her over and pass his judgement on her fitness and potentialities. He said she was by Midnight Delores, whom he remem­ bered as a beautiful, high-stepping fast-going black mare, the daughter of Midnight Sun, who was bred to Merry Go Boy. He said. "You can’t do much better,” so we paid for her and proudly named her "Go Boy’s First Lady.” She was a fine horse but our trainer said all along we would have to take it easy, let her get beat a few times, win what ribbons we could, and have her ready as an age mare for the big show in ’66. Right there, I almost lost a trainer! What different ideas we had! I thought: "Whoever heard of spend­ ing $100.00 per month, plus train­ ing for three or four years, on a horse and then not showing her every Saturday night?” Our trainer says you can push her beyond her endurance as a two-year-old and maybe capture the big blue, but she won’t be worth much thereafter, or take three years training and care­ ful showing and come out with a top mare. You know, I learned he knows more about training horses than I do, so we now make a good team. So comes the ’66 show season, and she is ready for tough compe­ tition, sound as a dollar, pretty as a peach, with three fine gaits — not a run-away big lick, but rhythm you love to see! It was with a great deal of con­ fidence and pride that we went to a horse show a few weeks back and entered her in the Junior Mare Class. We hope it pleased the judge be­ cause he let his eye follow her just a little longer than usual in all three gaits. When she was presented with the blue ribbon, Pearl said, "We ought to get many blues this summer and head for Shelbyville in Sep­ tember. I would like to end this story right here, but tragedy struck the morning after the show. Quite un­ expectedly, our pride and joy fell and severed her spine. After hours of pain, with our faithful veterinarian by her side, we had to watch her pass away. It has been my opinion that "whittling” was good for the nerves and that day I sat on a bale of hay and, looking at a growing pile of shavings through watery eyes put my theory to the test. I well remembered my broken toe as a boy and my little Granny saying, "You are too big a man to cry.’’ As our mare lay on her side heav­ ing with the pain, I kept saying to myself, "Get up, girl . . . show ’em what you’ve got. Get up!” She would look around and roll her eyes at the familar surroundings. She had been broken in this hallway as a yearling filly. Her first step of the flat foot walk was made right here. She had perhaps traveled many-a- mile from end to end ... in freez­ ing cold and sultry hot weather. And for what? To make a willing effort to do her job to please man. No matter what he demanded . . . she would try hard to please! This had always been a place of comfort to her. She wondered why she hurt so much and why we didn’t help. Whittle . . . whittle . . . whittle!! My stick kept getting smaller and smaller and the stack of shavings bigger and bigger. There were tears and shocked expressions we were all trying to hide and when the vet got up, put on his cap and said "Sheriff . . . I’m sorry,” it was almost too much. I supposed we all looked at it from a different viewpoint. Our trainer could see three years of hard work going down the drain. Our groom and ground man would see the empty stall and miss feeding her and caring for her and me . . . well, I just plain ol’ miss her. She was a good horse! As I sat there with the remains of a cedar stick, I could not help but think of Carl Hengen, Deedy Decker, Otto Heggie, the Chitwood children and many many others that have lost a favorite horse. I won- dered if they found any consolation in a whittling stick ... I know I did! > j J j j Sheriff Ledford | WOODLAND RFD #1, Box 230 Call 703-293-5820 Charlottesville, Va. 22901 Horses ready for training Young stock futurity eligible foals trail horses AT STUD BUDDY HANCOCK Fee $100.00 with return privileges in season to veterinary approved mares. VOICE of the Tennessee Walking Horse