My very first horse was an OTTB, with a wonderful mind of his own. If I wanted a child to learn about horses I couldn't have wished more than Old Buzz.
Of course, much of the teaching of little 10 year old Donnie consisted of Buzz torturing Donnie.
My very first saddle?
Well, even the thought of it makes my butt bones ache, even 63 years later. Oooowwwwweeeee.
Yes, a nicely worn McClellan.
I laugh now over it because on one side of my family that is a family name.
That saddle and I parted company after a few months of torture trying to figure out how to ride it without the pain. It, of course, was not the right size for me. I was a really small little squirt. I stayed with bareback. Buzz didn't care. He had lots of things to teach me regardless of the gear I rode with.
He also taught me remote groundwork.
"Remote groundwork," you might ask"
Yes.
That's when the little kid gets up in the morning, goes out to the corral to have a ride, and discovers Old Buzz had busted out, as he so cleverly did at least once a month.
I lived in a broad flat huge valley (San Joaquin valley...southern end) there off in the distance, a tiny speck on the horizon was my loyal horse friend, Old Buzz, leisurely wandering from tuft to tuft of grass.
So I'd drag out the oat bucket, and my halter and leadrope and start walking. Eventually the sun would go down.
Next morning early, to beat the heat, I'd leave with a sandwich and water bottle my mom packed for me. And I walk. And ... well, the sun would eventually go down.
My record was 8 days of following Old Buzz out across the dusty dry landscape. I got to feeling about him like I did about that McClellan.
Then he'd let me catch him. Probably more out of curiosity than any cleverness on my part. He wanted to see what I would do next.
I almost wish I had one of those old McClellens .
I'D BURN THE DAMNED THING.
Now Old Buzz, on the other hand, him I'd like to see again.
Donald