Let me do a biography on your favourite horse
- the one that won you your first rosette - or the horse or
pony you will never forget.
Saga One - Hawful Humphrey
When
Humphrey arrived off the ship from Ireland we put him out in the
paddock to recover his journey. Five minutes later there was a fearsome
crash, a splintering scraping thud! What had happened was that Humphrey
had mistaken the green mounting block, in the stable yard, for an
Irish bank. He had jumped on top of it, and his weight broke it
in half. He lay on his substantial rib cage - flat out on the grass
and quite still. The mounting block appeared to have been attacked
by a bulldozer, sides in tact but with a long splintered crevass
down the middle. “Humphrey tink it doo bee an Irish Bank -
‘ee‘s jumped on dee top and turned tip over ‘aarse,
said Billy the stable hand, from the American south, in his wonderful
southern drawl.
Sex
Spot, an eleven-hand high white pony, was named for the football-sized
black spot, above his tail. Also because of his tendency, minute
though he was, to try to 'mount' other four-legged creatures, large
dogs being his favourite. “Ee ‘um baad traveller ‘
um,” explained Billy, “dat dere small white ting - ‘ee
do kick everytink dat doo come by him, when ‘im doo travel.
‘Ee doo bee from dee gutter - baad noos - ‘ee iss.”
However he won every show class he ever entered, so we put up with
him. To avoid any further shilly-shallying, he was given three stalls
to himself - a veritable palace. There he stood twitching - a meagre,
shrivelled, fireball in the back!
Dinkum
was a hideous black horse with a foul temper, and was quickly renamed
Stinkum by us. “Ee bee bad carrion, mees, advised Billy the
stable boy, ah‘d rutherr bee in battle dan face dat der foo‘
wid ‘iss feet and teeth!” We got snowed in regularly,
in Pennsylvania in the winter, the snow making banks seven foot
high either side of the road. In order to exercise the horses and
get ourselves some food we took Stinkum and Humphrey, who were most
in need of work, on a trip to the food store. We took string bags
to carry the food in and bought a bottle of rum and a dozen eggs
to make egg nog for Thanksgiving. On sheet ice on the way home -
Stinkum started to kick Humphrey, Of course the string bags of eggs
and rum, were squashed between the horses. All the eggs bust and
immediately froze into congealed dribules, like yellow rays in a
child's drawing of the sun. After this I spent ten minutes trawling
about in the snow for the bottle of rum!
With
a name like Witch we should have anticipated trouble, and she was.
She would not unload from the trailer when she arrived! No amount
of hauling would get her off. “Blathering fool,” I yelled
while we quietly watched the snow falling. Added to this problem,
Witch was a weakling and always ill - and had been sent to the stable
to be sold. She had had, during her short life so far, almost every
ailment. She’d got fistulous withers, and split teeth, was
susceptible to azoturia, had had staggers, quittor, mud fever, worms
and warts! “Blathering dumbheaded philistine, shee bee,”
snarled Billy, as he started on the vodka, a favourite tipple with
stable boys from the American south.
Purrfec’
Granary was pefect, but she had an ‘ornery’ side to her
character, ‘ornery’ being American slang for wicked. She
had a way, it could be said, with stone walls. Billy, the stable
lad, from the American south, described her antics, in his wonderful
southern drawl. “Shee dun lie down against a warll of stone
- it doo bee a trick shee larned - yes man - shee dun lie down dere
against a warll and shee doo gently poosh dat darned warll - till
it doo fall clean over - no kidding - den dat great ting doo step
‘ersel neatly over wat doo bee left of dat dere warll, and
orf shee goes into dee sunset wid ‘er tail over ‘erself
- for dee fun orf it!
Pink
Gin was a ‘timber’ horse and a tremendous jumper. The
‘timber’ fences built for races like the Maryland Hunt
Cup, the equivalent of the Grand National in England, were five
five foot high and made of telephone poles. Most of the timber racing
took place in the ‘spring.’ This usually meant in blizzards
with the temperature averaging minus ten Degrees Centigrade. Horses
had to be supremely fit for these races and often had a specialised
diet, which included beer and eggs, which they loved! “Lard
a“ massa mee dat ah cood eat like dat,” said Billy, the
stable lad, in his southern drawl, “ah cood jump dee timber
fences too if ah cood trink arl dat beer!”
When
Humphrey arrived off the ship from Ireland we put him out in the
paddock to recover his journey. Five minutes later there was a fearsome
crash, a splintering scraping thud! What had happened was that Humphrey
had mistaken the green mounting block, in the stable yard, for an
Irish bank. He had jumped on top of it, and his weight broke it
in half. He lay on his substantial rib cage - flat out on the grass
and quite still. The mounting block appeared to have been attacked
by a bulldozer, sides in tact but with a long splintered crevass
down the middle. “Humphrey tink it doo bee an Irish Bank -
‘ee‘s jumped on dee top and turned tip over ‘aarse,
said Billy the stable hand, from the American south, in his wonderful
southern drawl.
Sex
Spot, an eleven-hand high white pony, was named for the football-sized
black spot, above his tail. Also because of his tendency, minute
though he was, to try to 'mount' other four-legged creatures, large
dogs being his favourite. “Ee ‘um baad traveller ‘
um,” explained Billy, “dat dere small white ting - ‘ee
do kick everytink dat doo come by him, when ‘im doo travel.
‘Ee doo bee from dee gutter - baad noos - ‘ee iss.”
However he won every show class he ever entered, so we put up with
him. To avoid any further shilly-shallying, he was given three stalls
to himself - a veritable palace. There he stood twitching - a meagre,
shrivelled, fireball in the back!
Dinkum
was a hideous black horse with a foul temper, and was quickly renamed
Stinkum by us. “Ee bee bad carrion, mees, advised Billy the
stable boy, ah‘d rutherr bee in battle dan face dat der foo‘
wid ‘iss feet and teeth!” We got snowed in regularly,
in Pennsylvania in the winter, the snow making banks seven foot
high either side of the road. In order to exercise the horses and
get ourselves some food we took Stinkum and Humphrey, who were most
in need of work, on a trip to the food store. We took string bags
to carry the food in and bought a bottle of rum and a dozen eggs
to make egg nog for Thanksgiving. On sheet ice on the way home -
Stinkum started to kick Humphrey, Of course the string bags of eggs
and rum, were squashed between the horses. All the eggs bust and
immediately froze into congealed dribules, like yellow rays in a
child's drawing of the sun. After this I spent ten minutes trawling
about in the snow for the bottle of rum!
With
a name like Witch we should have anticipated trouble, and she was.
She would not unload from the trailer when she arrived! No amount
of hauling would get her off. “Blathering fool,” I yelled
while we quietly watched the snow falling. Added to this problem,
Witch was a weakling and always ill - and had been sent to the stable
to be sold. She had had, during her short life so far, almost every
ailment. She’d got fistulous withers, and split teeth, was
susceptible to azoturia, had had staggers, quittor, mud fever, worms
and warts! “Blathering dumbheaded philistine, shee bee,”
snarled Billy, as he started on the vodka, a favourite tipple with
stable boys from the American south.
Purrfec’
Granary was pefect, but she had an ‘ornery’ side to her
character, ‘ornery’ being American slang for wicked. She
had a way, it could be said, with stone walls. Billy, the stable
lad, from the American south, described her antics, in his wonderful
southern drawl. “Shee dun lie down against a warll of stone
- it doo bee a trick shee larned - yes man - shee dun lie down dere
against a warll and shee doo gently poosh dat darned warll - till
it doo fall clean over - no kidding - den dat great ting doo step
‘ersel neatly over wat doo bee left of dat dere warll, and
orf shee goes into dee sunset wid ‘er tail over ‘erself
- for dee fun orf it!
Pink
Gin was a ‘timber’ horse and a tremendous jumper. The
‘timber’ fences built for races like the Maryland Hunt
Cup, the equivalent of the Grand National in England, were five
five foot high and made of telephone poles. Most of the timber racing
took place in the ‘spring.’ This usually meant in blizzards
with the temperature averaging minus ten Degrees Centigrade. Horses
had to be supremely fit for these races and often had a specialised
diet, which included beer and eggs, which they loved! “Lard
a“ massa mee dat ah cood eat like dat,” said Billy, the
stable lad, in his southern drawl, “ah cood jump dee timber
fences too if ah cood trink arl dat beer!”