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Thursday, March 31, 2011

Can't See the Forest For The Trees




We recently fenced in a twenty acre mixed forest woodlot. In about two weeks the buds and leaves from the lower level browse will be appearing and the horses will be given access to a forest buffet. There are no wild cherry trees in the woods.

High fiber, low sugar, diverse forage is natural in many wild horse environments. My first BLM mare came from and area of sense pinion pines. She would not consider alfalfa or clover but she would erase pine needles with zeal. The Corollas stay in great shape from what is basically a mixed browse diet in the winter.

I am really looking forward to seeing the result of this reversion to a diverse forage based diet. I will keep you posted.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Health Alert: Help Curb Equine TTFM




TTFM (Too Tall For me) is a genetically related disorder that often results from breeding mares over 13.3 hands to stallions of equal size or larger. Horses suffering from TTFM have a higher ground to saddle distance than do those those of proper height.

Sadly, the condition is irreversible and worsens with age. In fact, the older I get the more difficult it is to mount a horse with TTFM. Even worse, for a mature rider a fall from a TTFM horse often results in bad bruises, broken bones, and the use of non-Presbyterian language.


There currently is no cure for TTFM. The only hope lies in prevention and education. Research to find a cure is vital. Until that cure is found we are lucky to be able to rely on Shacklefords and Corollas. Though the gene may exist in these horses it is quite rare.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Sounds of Silence




No rush yesterday morning. I had no early court and no plans to shower or shave. I had already had a hunk of cheese for breakfast. I had time to walk, look and think.

I love the green of early spring as much as I detest the mid winter muck and mud. Yesterday was the greenest day of this just born spring. I walked all around my pastures--observed, relaxed and thought.

At first a disconnected string of thoughts--How long had it been since I wore my false teeth? I used to wear them for jury trials but now I do not even remember where they are. What a strange entourage accompanied me. War Admiral, Sea Biscuit, and Spicer, my Colonial Spanish goats walked step for step with me, eyes constantly checking out every movement around me--staying close by, looking oddly protective of me, like a Secret Service detail for Dr. Doolittle. My rooster followed for the entire perimeter of the main pastures--a one mile route--quite a journey on five inch legs.

No other humans, no sounds. Only history--like a vortex where somehow is and was happen at the same time. I looked over the the spot where Lido, my little brother, died. We walked over to where Granddaddy Horace built his goat pen 70 years ago. I saw the Little House where Momma was born and the stable where she kept her pony--the same stable that my pony, Tanka, was in when he coliced badly when I was four years old. To my left hand was the road where the first phone lines ran in from town. In 1927 those phone lines brought the news that Hilda Barlow had been murdered and that people were assembling to lynch Shirley Winnigan. The phone lines ran by the little tenant house that I remembered Glosten Winnigen, Shirley's younger brother, living in when I was a child. Glosten died year before last.

Beside Glosten's house was the field path where Granddaddy Horace's granddaddy thought he saw a long line of mourners following a casket back toward what is now my tack shed. He went home, to the site where my father lives, nervously relayed what he thought he had just seen, sat down, had a stroke and died.

At the other end of the path is Stallings Creek Road, where in 1831 the news would have come in that Nat Turner had lead America's bloodiest slave insurrection in neighboring Southampton County. Stallings Creek was likely the rode used by Benedict Arnold when he lead British troops into Smithfield. Even worse, it is only about six mile from where Banastre Tarleton, the murderous Red Coat cavalryman landed when he lead stroops into the soutside of the James.

 Stallings Creek runs beside Mill Swamp, about three miles from Pons, where my first white ancestors settled in the 1630's, about six miles from my horse lot.

My pastures sit about 1/2 a mile from the remnant of an old wagon path that the farmers used to get to the James River at Burwell's Bay. The path likely followed the Indian trail that went near the Powhatan village of Mokete. John Smith visited the village in 1608. That village is on the farm that Daddy's family owned. It sits four miles from the back of pasture number 4.

John Smith may have called it Virginia, but the people that had lived and farmed this land for decades before the English came knew that they were in Mokete, a village of the small tribe of the Warrosquoyacke, which was part of the empire of Wahunsonacok, the first Powhatan, the father of Pocahontas and the ruler of all of Tsennacommacah. Among the people of Tsennacommacah were the Pamunky, Mattaponi, and the Chickahominy, from whence came my earliest American born ancestors.

Across some of my pasture Norm has recently completed a trench to hold the water line from the Little House to the tack shed. As the goats stepped across the trench, I looked down to see a small spear point of a type made from 1000 B.C. to about 500 A.D. in this part of Virginia. The spear point shares the soil with the ashes of Momma and Lido.

And that is what my goats, my chicken, and I walked through yesterday.

Will the Circle Be Unbroken, Bye and Bye Lord, Bye and Bye?

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Three In One Year




Talking is not always teaching, and proving always requires demonstration. How can one best demonstrate the value of natural horse care, natural hoof care, while at the same time demonstrating the extraordinary abilities of the nearly extinct wild Spanish mustangs of Corolla?

Tradewind was captured because he was utterly crippled with founder. Pete Ramey style natural hoof care made him sound. Living as horses are intended to, with out the triple curses of sugar, stables, and shoes, have kept him healthy. He is a touch less than thirteen hands and I am a touch over 220 pounds.

It would make a strong statement if he could carry me so many hours on the trail that he became the Horse of the Americas Registry's Pleasure Trail Horse of the Year.

Ta Sunka and Holland will be getting more rest time. As for Tradewind, every step you take, every move you make, I'll be riding you.

He will demonstrate the truth that Pete Ramey, Joe Camp, and Karen MaCalpin already know.

When it comes to Corollas, we do not speculate, we demonstrate.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Bankers, Tackies, and Crackers




No,that is not a description of Chamber of Commerce boards all across the south, it is a list of the three primary strains of Colonial Spanish Horses that were developed in the southeast by European Americans.I am often asked how the three are related.

DNA is a precise science. Understanding history is an art. In my entire wardrobe there is not one lab coat. I am not a scientist. My unscientific impression is as follows.

The Bankers are, of course, the strain of Spanish mustang that was bred and used on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. They are small, sturdy, gaited,(though their gaitedness is not as obvious as, say, a Paso Fino), super calm and tractable, with levels of endurance that dwarf that of modern breeds. They seem to have very few non-Spanish bloodlines, perhaps among the fewest of all Colonial Spanish strains.

The Marsh Tackies are wonderful horses that are likely to be very closely related to the Bankers. They share the Banker's temperament and are so calm that they are used to jump shoot deer in the marshes while carrying shotgun bearing riders. My hunch is that from perhaps as early as the 18th century they carry the lines of the now extinct English Hobby. The Tackies are endangered but thanks to a group of dedicated breeders and the American Livestock Breed Conservancy there is reason to be optimistic about the breed's long term survival.

The Florida Cracker Horse was once the horse of working cattlemen all across Florida. This strain of Colonial Spanish horse has been selectively bred for many generations. They are more pronounced in their gaitedness and have a more refined look than do the Bankers. They are sturdy and border on being elegant. From my very limited exposure to the strain it appears that they are not as calm natured as are the Bankers.

All of these great lines of historic horses are endangered, but it is the Bankers that are most at risk. Without passage of legislation pending in Congress there is no hope of maintaining a wild Corolla herd.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Time to Talk Parelli




The criticism directed at Pat Parelli and the other big name natural horsemanship clinicians wastes a lot of time and energy better used elsewhere. I have heard it said that "he is just in it for the money." That is true of nearly everyone of us. How many of us would show up for work tomorrow if everything stayed the same, but for the fact we would no longer get a paycheck. I have heard it said that "He doesn't practice what he preaches." Even if that were true what difference would it make? He practices while he preaches. That is what matters. Many people complain that he is a just a showman. I have not yet met a great teacher that was not a showman. Charisma is a major component of communication.

He has developed a regimen that allows novices to learn to handle their own horses and to build a solid relationship with those horses. He does what the established horse world does not do. He brings new people into horse ownership.

Would he and I get along if we had to spend an afternoon together? I doubt it. Our personalities would likely do more than clash. They would probably crash.

Yet, nothing that I might think of him as a person, or even as a business man matters one whit to the horses. I do not read Parelli, Lyons, Ponyboy, Schrake, Anderson, Roberts, or Cameron because I am looking for a fishing buddy. I want to know more about how to handle my horse. If any of them lead saintly lives then I am glad for them, but if a training technique works and makes the horse feel better I do not care if the proponent of that technique be a saint or a sinner.

And neither do my horses.

(This is Croatoan on his first ride after losing his winter coat a few years back. He thinks that I am arrogant and a bit of a hot dog. He loves me anyway----because I immediately release the pressure when he begins to perform the task at hand. He does not really care about my foibles and frailties outside the horse lot.)

Friday, March 11, 2011

A Time To Heal




The Spanish Mustang Registry will hold its annual meeting soon and all matters that are to be placed on the agenda must be so placed by the end of this month.

Our horses have all of the cards stacked against them. Their only hope is for all of those who care about them to work together regardless of which registry they claim allegiance to. The Horse of the Americas Registry has born all of the heavy lifting in preserving the Corollas. They have also reached out to the Spanish Mustang Registry to seek to facilitate registry cooperation. In the past that request has been refused.

Now is the time for the SMR to reach out and that time is running short.

Oh yeah, this week another wild mare died at Corolla. It seems that she died of natural causes, but dead is dead, regardless of the cause. Similarly, if in seventy five years Spanish Mustangs join the Narragansett Pacer as historically significant, extinct asterisks the differences between the two registries that made it impossible to work together will not matter. Who was right and who was wrong will not matter.

The only thing that will matter then is the only thing that matters now, the horses. The difference is that they will be gone--forever.

Monday, March 7, 2011

I'm Impressed




Saturday we a had a special guest come out for his first ride on a wild horse from the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Curry Roberts, President of the Virginia State Fair, mounted up on Holland, one of my Shacklefords. Samantha, age 7, rode Manteo, a wild Corolla stallion behind him and Larry and Shelly rounded out the group on Porter and Samson, two Corollas.

It is always hard to say what most impresses people the first time they meet these horses. Of course, they are surprised that horses so small carry adults with ease. They are also surprised at the gentleness of these formerly wild horses, particularly the stallions. Their healthy bare hooves rarely escape notice.

The shot above is of Holland's sister, swimming in the wild. Those who have joined us for a swim in the James River are also impressed with how beautifully these horses move, in both turf and surf.

In fact, that one word may simply be the best description applied to my little horses--impressive.

I'm Impressed




Saturday we a had a special guest come out for his first ride on a wild horse from the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Curry Roberts, President of the Virginia State Fair, mounted up on Holland, one of my Shacklefords. Samantha, age 7, rode Manteo, a wild Corolla stallion behind him and Larry and Shelly rounded out the group on Porter and Samson, two Corollas.

It is always hard to say what most impresses people the first time they meet these horses. Of course, they are surprised that horses so small carry adults with ease. They are also surprised at the gentleness of these formerly wild horses, particularly the stallions. Their healthy bare hooves rarely escape notice.

The shot above is of Holland's sister, swimming in the wild. Those who have joined us for a swim in the James River are also impressed with how beautifully these horses move, in both turf and surf.

In fact, that one word may simply be the best description applied to my little horses--impressive.

Why We Cannot Wait




It does not matter whether extinction is caused by a bullet,apathy, or antipathy--gone is gone. And gone is forever. The life of the little colt shown above foretells the death of the wild herd at Corolla unless legislation to allow a few Shackleford mares to join the Corolla herd, which is currently pending in Congress, passes.

This two day old colt was found without a mare in sight. No one knows why he became separated from his mother. Without the immediate intervention of the members and staff of the Corolla Wild Horse Fund he would be dead at this moment. As it is, he has a chance at survival.

Genetic collapse is not looming on the future for the wild horses of Corolla. It is happening now. The birth rate for mature mares in the wild herd is abysmal. Often older mares that have no foal steal newborns from their mothers immediately after birth. These mares, of course, have no supply of milk and their stolen prizes die in a few days.

Of course, the overall numbers of the Corolla herd must increase to over 120 to provide a degree of genetic viability, but it is equally important that Shacklefords be introduced to provide immediate genetic diversity.

The Shacklefords have been isolated from the Corollas for a few hundred years. The Shacklefords are equally pure in their Spanish heritage. Their importation will not destroy the Spanish genetics of these historic horses, it will enhance those genetics and allow them to survive.

In a few weeks I will have two Shackleford/Corolla foals born from the offsite breeding program. In two years I hope to read of several Corolla/Shackleford foals being born in the wild---where they belong.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

What Doing Does For You




Achievement leads to self respect and confidence. If the achievement is significant to the achiever, it can have many unanticipated benefits.

Last Friday I rode 48 miles on Holland and the next day I rode 50 miles on Ta Sunka. This is just routine riding for horseman of the 17th and 18th century, but for my 51 year old body it was quite an accomplishment.

I had a full docket of cases on Monday. For the first time since Lido died I held the court room in my hand. I prosecuted with the same focus and intensity that once came so naturally to me.

I did not think that that would ever return and I had come to accept that realization as simply something beyond my control. How could one ever believe that riding 98 miles would have this impact?

The only things more inscrutable than the human mind are the ways of God.