Timmy and the Witch

            “Oh, Timmy, I’m never going to see you again,” said Gina as she hugged the golden pony’s neck tighter. “They’ll make me go live with my aunt in Oklahoma, I just now it.”

            Gina hadn’t heard Antonia ride up behind her on her black stallion, Spirit, as she sobbed into Timmy’s neck.

            “You’ll come live with me,” said Antonia.

            Gina spun around to face her mentor. “Antonia, I want to stay here more than anything, but my aunt called as soon as she heard my mother died. I’m not eighteen yet, so I won’t have a choice. It’s the law. I think that I have to go with my closest relative.”

            Gina turned back to Timmy who hadn’t moved an inch, wrapping her arms back around his neck and sobbing uncontrollably once more.

            “Gina, we don’t follow the laws of man,” said Antonia.

            Gina continued to sob into the pony’s neck, but Timmy gently shook himself free of the distraught girl and then swung his head, whinnied sharply and as Gina looked on, his eyes flashed red for just a moment.

            Gina gasped, “Antonia, there’s something wrong with Timmy’s eyes.”

            “There’s nothing wrong with Timmy’s eyes, girl. It’s time for you to open your eyes,” said Antonia.

            “Open my eyes?” asked Gina.

            “Yes Gina, you’ve mentioned before how it seems that Timmy reads my mind. Well, he does…in a way. We’ve been connected since my early training in Brazil, He’s my familiar, for lack of a better word.”

            “Familiar? Like a witch’s familiar?” Gina stepped back from both of them as she asked this.

            “Gina, why do you step back? You’re afraid of us now that you know what we truly are? I’m disappointed. I expected more from you,” said Antonia.

            Gina stared up at Antonia. It was a lot to process. Her mother’s sudden death, Antonia a witch. Even Timmy, sweet, little Timmy; a monster with red eyes, but no, not a monster. He had always shown her love and so had Antonia. It was her mother who was the monster, always telling her that everyone else was more important than her, and that she was nothing.

            Gina remembered when she told her mother about Chet and Cassie putting her on the ‘Ugly List’. It was the list of all the ugliest girls at Dale City High and an annual tradition it seemed for the jocks and cheerleaders to make said list. She told her mother how Chet had whispered loudly enough for Gina to hear as she sat in study hall pretending to read one of her textbooks, that Gina Targoff should be at the top that list since she was the ugliest of all. Tears had been streaming down Gina’s face when she had told her mother what he said.

            Her mother responded, “Well they’re better than you, Gina. You’re a very plain, uninteresting girl.”

            Gina’s mind returned to the present. Timmy nudged her from behind with his muzzle and Gina looked up at Antonia, sitting astride Spirit, whose black coat glistened in the bright sunlight of late Spring. His tail was held high, pluming out behind him in the Saturday afternoon breeze. His small, curvy, Arabian ears were pricked toward Gina as if he too, were awaiting her answer. The white star on his forehead was catching the light and his nostrils flared in anticipation. He and Antonia were striking against the background of the clear blue, big Texas sky. Antonia had her beautiful black hair pulled back and braided and the aroma of some expensive French perfume, left over from her heydays in the fashion industry wafted down and flitted about Gina’s nostrils. As Gina looked up at her, Antonia smiled and then Gina smiled too.

            “So, will you use magic to keep me here?” asked Gina.

            “No, Ama has a law firm remember? We’ll do things the old fashioned, legal way.”

            “I thought you don’t follow the laws of man?” Gina asked.

            Antonia laughed, “Well, okay, we manipulate the laws of man when we need to. Legal ease with a touch of magic. You’re very sharp, Gina. You’ll do well in your new lessons.”

            “New lessons?”

            “We’re going to teach you in the ancient ways,” answered Antonia.

            “We? You’re not the only witch?”

            “Of course I’m not the only one, but my people prefer the term, shaman,” answered Antonia smiling.

            “What’s the difference?” asked Gina.

            “Well, it’s a matter of semantics, I guess. A little variation in rituals and abilities.”

            “Is Ama a witch?” asked Gina.

            “Well, not exactly.”

            “Not exactly? What does that mean?”

            “You have much to learn, child. Give sweet Timmy a hug and then head up to the house. I’ll turn Spirit out and then meet you there,” instructed Antonia.

            “But, I have so many questions…”

            “And I will attempt to answer all of them,” said Antonia as she wheeled Spirit around and trotted back toward the stallion barn.

            Gina turned back toward Timmy. She stood looking at him, uncertain as to whether she should follow Antonia’s directions and hug him again.

            He made the decision for her. He stepped up to her and then placed his head and neck gently over her right shoulder. Gina stood completely still for a moment and then slipped her arms around his silky-smooth neck and his flaxen mane fell about her arms and face. She stood like this for what seemed like a very long time, inhaling his sweet, horsey scent. For the first time since she had been hugging the golden pony, she opened her mind and she sensed that he was telling her that he would always protect her. She hugged him tighter, then let go, stepped back and looked into his red eyes and saw the wisdom there for the first time.

She smiled at Timmy, then turned and sprinted toward the house with Timmy trotting at her side, tossing his head as if to say, Gina was truly one of their own now.

NaNoWriMo and Pops the Rescue Horse

Pops; living the life at Becky’s Hope Horse Rescue (my sponsor horse)

This post is a little late obviously, since we’re well past Thanksgiving here in the U.S. and barreling toward Christmas, whether or not we’re ready for it (I’m not by the way). I was super busy with NaNoWriMo in November working on The Red Filly, so I let everything else slide as one does, when trying to write a novel in one month:

NaNoWriMo=National Novel Writing Month

So you’re supposed to write 50,000 words, but I only got a little past 15,000 because Covid has finally struck my workplace. We have two people out right now with the virus. At least neither of them has had to be hospitalized and the rest of us are well so far, so if it continues on like that I consider myself and my crew blessed. We’re just working ourselves to exhaustion, due to being short handed…but at least we’ve managed to stay healthy so far.

I’m a retail pharmacist, so it’s not unexpected that we would be affected by Covid, but like everyone else, we do our best to avoid it. So when you’re dropping off prescriptions at your local pharmacy, please be understanding if the wait time is longer than usual since a lot of pharmacies are dealing with quarantined staff, whether they have the illness or have been exposed.

But like I said, I feel blessed because I am healthy and I managed to get half of the rough draft done for, The Red Filly, which is the farthest I’ve ever gotten on any of my novels!

Everybody hang in there and stay well! These are tough times, just keep writing, reading and mask up!

The Red Filly on Channillo

I recently added the second chapter of The Red Filly, on Channillo.com. Remember all proceeds from subscriptions to the series benefit Becky’s Hope Horse Rescue.

I’m having a lot of fun writing this story, which is inspired by a favorite book from my childhood, The Black Stallion. Although, my goal is not only to write about a girl and her horse, but address social issues as well. I hope to entertain with my writing as well as have a positive impact on society. I am very open to constructive criticism, as I continue to grow and learn as a writer. Thank you guys!

Here’s the link to the series: The Red Filly

Baby Spirit-“The Black Stallion”

AV Olympic Spirit aka Spirit with his mom (dam), Raylee Asasi

This post is just for fun because I received these awesome pictures today from Renee Boeshans, the owner of Spirit’s sire, Affirmativ. Here’s a pic of Affirmativ:

Affirmativ (Andreanov x Cedaridge Folaura)

Affirmativ’s sire, Andreanov:

Andreanov (Negatraz x Andorra)

Affirmativ’s dam, Cedaridge Folaura:

Cedaridge Folaura (Folltan x Sharene)

As followers of this blog may remember, Spirit is the sire of my two Arabian loves: Flame aka NH Fyrecracker and Honey aka Spirits Fyrestorm.

Flame aka NH Fyrecracker (AV Olympic Spirit x Fyrelite Bynite)
Honey aka Spirits Fyrestorm (AV Olympic Spirit x Fyrelite Bynite)

Here’s their mom, Fyrelite:

Fyrelite Bynite (Nite Mover x Pure Silk)

More Spirit baby pictures:

Spirit’s dam, Raylee Asasi, was owned by Janice Johnson. Affirmativ spent several summers with the lovely mares owned by Mrs. Johnson, who was an ardent admirer of his. Renee spent three weeks with them on the first visit, riding horses and showing them how to hand breed the stallion.

One of the black fillies sired by Affirmativ at the Johnson farm, who was sold to Germany:

Affirma Fantasia (Affirmativ x AA Khaibar)

AV Midnight Lyric, a full sister to Fantasia, is still owned by Mrs. Johnson and is currently leased out to Belesemo Arabians:

AV Midnight Lyric (Affirmativ x AA Khaibar)

I’m going to wrap this post up with some pictures of Spirit all grown up:

Okay, I lied; here are two more pictures of Affirmativ (Who ever gets tired of looking at pictures of horses, really?):

Affirmativ
Affirmativ at Scottsdale

Sheila Varian-Dreamer and Doer

Sheila and Farlotta

Not too long ago a fellow horse loving friend loaned me the DVD, “The Legacy of Sheila Varian”. He said, “You’ll love this because it’s all about Arabians,” or something along those lines. I didn’t watch it right away because I figured it was a boring documentary about some rich lady and her horse farm. I finally popped it in a week or two later and found myself drawn in by this woman, who was the quintessential dreamer of dreams!

Sheila Varian did not come from a rich family. She fell in love with Arabians the same way I did, through reading the Black Stallion series by Walter Farley. Her parents weren’t horse people but supported her dreams and at the age of eight she started riding her first horse, a Morgan/Percheron mix and because money was tight, learned to ride bareback. She didn’t acquire her first saddle until the age of twelve.

Horses were in Sheila’s blood, heart and soul from the start and while working as a high school physical education teacher, she worked toward her dream. Farlotta was her first Arabian and most beloved of all. When Farlotta passed on to the rainbow bridge at the young age of seven due to health problems, Sheila was holding her cherished mare’s head in her arms.

Sheila later acquired the mare Ronteza, who would set Sheila on her way toward creating her legacy. In 1961 Sheila and Ronteza won the Open Reined Cow Horse Championship at The Cow Palace in San Francisco, California. She was the first amateur, the first woman and had the first Arabian to take the title.

Through acquiring mares from Poland and careful breeding over the years, Sheila Varian created the dynasty that is now known as Varian Arabians. Her is a link for the video that tells the story of this great lady and her legacy:

The Legacy of Sheila Varian

At one point in the documentary Sheila talked about following your dreams. I can’t remember the exact quote, but what she said really made an impression on me. This woman was not rich, or beautiful (in the traditional sense), but she was driven. I’m sure she encountered pain and roadblocks along the way, but she didn’t let that stop her. She lived the life she wanted and that is inspiring!

Sheila and Ronteza

Timmy’s Best Friend

TimmyinfrontoftheRedBarn

 

            “Of course, I’ll help your little sister, Lucas,” said Antonia.

            “Thank you, Antonia. I knew I could count on you. Kobi will be so happy! She’s already in love with this horse.  I know you’re not running a boarding facility, but I’ll pay any monthly fees you require.”

            “Lucas, you’ve helped me on so many occasions, I owe you,” said a smiling Antonia face raised, looking into his hazel eyes. “I’ll expect some work out of her though,” Antonia continued, still smiling. 

            “Of course,” said Lucas looking down at her and smiling too. 

            Antonia reached out and took Lucas’s right hand in hers.  There was a strong bond between the athletic, bronze-skinned deputy and the lovely dark-haired lady from Brazil. Antonia broke the moment by stepping back and asked, “So when can I expect my new border?”

            Lucas cleared his throat and said, “I’ll call Strider and let him know you agreed, and they can go pick up the horse. They purchased him at the auction last night to save him from the “killer buyers.”

            “What breed is the horse?” asked Antonia.

            “He’s a thoroughbred. He apparently has a minor injury and was therefore deemed no longer useful by your neighbor, Kirk Robertson,” answered Lucas.

            Antonia frowned and said, “Horses are a lifelong responsibility. Just because they can’t be ridden anymore is no excuse to betray and abandon them.” Antonia’s fists tightened as she said it.

            “I knew you felt that way Antonia. You keep old Ambush around and even Timmy, who’s never been ridden. It’s one of the many things I admire about you,” he said smiling.

           

            It was late evening when the truck and trailer pulled into Kuhaylah Arabians. School was out for the day, so Gina was at the ranch and standing next to Antonia as they watched the truck pull the trailer up the long drive.

            “Let’s meet them at the small barn,” said Antonia as she started walking toward the small red barn on the corner of the property.  There were no horses in it at the moment. They had just been using it to store hay. 

            Antonia and Gina arrived at the front of the barn just as the truck was reaching the bend in the driveway right in front of it.  Antonia signaled to Strider to stop the truck. Strider had been driving the rig at a snail’s pace, but it was very dry and there was a slight breeze on this cool, crisp, autumn evening, so a little cloud of white dust wafted over them. Strider stepped out of the truck and was immediately joined by a slim, brown-skinned girl with black hair in braids as she slid out right behind him on the driver’s side, shutting the door behind her.

            “Hey Antonia,” said Strider as the new girl looked on. “This is Kobi Remington, Lucas Remington’s younger sister.”

            “Nice to meet you, Kobi,” said Antonia smiling.

            Timmy, the ever-curious golden pony, came trotting up from the big pasture to check out the new arrival.

            “Nice to meet you too,” answered Kobi. “And thank you so much for doing this. I really love this horse!”

            “I’m always willing to help a fellow horse lover! We are kindred spirits.”

            “Hi Kobi, nice to see you. How’s your friend, Bethany?” asked Gina.

            “She’s fine, I guess, I’m not really speaking to her right now, but I don’t want to talk about it,” said Kobi looking toward Gina, but she then turned toward Timmy, “What a cute pony.”

            “That’s Timmy, he’s the head of the welcoming committee at Kuhaylah Arabians,” laughed Antonia.

            As if on cue, Timmy walked straight up to Kobi and nuzzled her neck as she giggled.

            “He likes you,” said Antonia, “and he seems to like your charge too. Let’s get him out of the trailer.”

            The trailer was a small, white, two-horse affair. The horse was on the left, so Kobi opened the right rear door after lowering the ramp and stepped inside.  “It’s okay Charlie Brown, you’re safe now,” she said to the horse. He softly nickered to her as if he understood.

            Strider opened the left rear door after she reached the head of the horse.

            It was obvious Kobi had a bond with the horse because she just tugged back on the lead rope a little while lightly tapping on his chest and he began to slowly back out as she talked softly to him.

            He was a sight to see as he stepped out of the trailer into the evening sunlight. He was a well built, bay thoroughbred with a blaze running down his entire face. Kobi turned him around to face the group and said, “His name is Charlie Brown.”

            “Charlie Brown? What a weird name for a horse,” said Gina.

            “His sire is Big Brown, the 2008 Kentucky Derby winner,” said Kobi.

            “But unfortunately for him, he didn’t take after his sire. Too slow,” said Strider.

            Timmy walked up to Charlie Brown and they touched noses. They immediately bonded, no squealing or pawing at each other.

            “Looks like Timmy found himself a best friend. Let’s take him into the small barn and check him over,” said Antonia.

            Kobi began to lead Charlie Brown toward the barn and he limped a little on his front right leg.

            “Stop a moment, Kobi, so I can check out his leg,” said Antonia.

            “He has a suspensory ligament injury,” said Strider.

            Antonia walked up to the horse, bent down and placed her hand on his leg. “His leg does feel warm and there is a little swelling. It’s a common injury in horse racing, but it seems minor. Just a little stall rest, anti-inflammatories, and support bandages and he should be fine. Why was he sentenced to certain death?” asked Antonia.

            “Like I said, too slow. Orion Racing Stables has no room for a slow racehorse,” said Strider.

            Antonia’s body tensed with anger as she straightened back up. “Ridiculous! This horse would make an excellent dressage prospect. He’s young and healthy. Besides, animal ownership is a lifelong commitment!”

            “We knew you would feel that way,” said Strider with a smile.

            “What’s dressage?” asked Kobi.

            “It’s an elegant style of riding that this beauty would be well suited for. I used to compete on horses like this when I lived in Paris,” said Antonia.

            “Paris, Texas?” asked Kobi.

            Antonia laughed, “Paris, France.”

            “Paris, France?! Wow! Could you teach me dressage?” asked Kobi.

            “I can,” said Antonia, smiling and continued, “Let’s take Charlie Brown into the barn and get him settled for the evening.”

            Gina opened the white, metal gate to let Charlie and his entourage through to the small paddock area in front of the little, red barn. Timmy tried to bring up the rear, but Gina gently pushed him back and closed the gate. “Sorry buddy. You can see your new friend later,” she said as she rubbed his nose.

            Timmy stood guard at the gate as they all went inside the barn to help their new resident settle into his forever home.

           

Timmy and Charlie Playing Video

Pictures of Timmy and Charlie Brown:

 

 

 

Hard at Work on the Next #TimmyTale

WritingaTimmyTale

On the surface, writing seems like it would be easy. I mean, you just sit there in front of a computer or relax in a chair while you write in a spiral notebook… How hard could that be? It’s not like laying concrete in 90 degree heat after all.  Yet so many of us writers seem to find it so hard to do.

When I was in my twenties, I couldn’t understand where writers got their ideas. But now in “middle age” (I’m 54), I have more ideas than I can possibly put into book form in one lifetime, so that shuts me down.

too-many-choices-paralyzes-progress

Too many choices paralyses progress.  Here’s a good article on the subject:

Too Many Choices: Problems With Searching for an Extraordinary Life

And for me, it’s not just writing, but being interested in so many things (like I think a lot or writers are), such as; astronomy, artificial intelligence, physics, it goes on and on…

Unlike the guy in the article, I didn’t have a childhood with choices or support, in fact, I mostly just had to survive my childhood.  But now, I do have choices, which has become a problem.  So because I can’t choose, for now, I’m going to keep writing Timmy Tales or other horse related short stories and horse related articles, because one constant in my life has always been horses.  Not that I had them growing up, but I read everything I could get my hands on about them, fiction or non-fiction and I watched every movie and tv show that had horses whether or not I liked the show itself.

So for now, I choose horses (and all my other 4-legged loves).

Joey and Chandler approve of this post:

JoeyandChandlerwriterhelpers

Timmy and the Red Stallion

Timmyinthepasture (2)

 

            Gina and Flame galloped around the inside edge of the arena as if they were one.  It had taken several months for Gina to gain the confidence to even ride the magnificent red stallion, but Antonia had insisted.  At first Gina would only ride Flame if Antonia were present.  Antonia would stay on the ground in the arena and instruct Gina.  Eventually Gina gained the confidence to take Flame out on the trails and Antonia would ride her trusty gelding Blaze, so Flame would stay calm.  Flame and Blaze had a close bond because they were born within a month of each other at their original home in Dubai.  The half-brothers were a gift given to Antonia by a sheikh she had met during her time in Paris working for Louis Vuitton.

            Gina slowed Flame to a canter and reached down to pet his neck.  The summer sun reached through the open sides of the arena and caressed the crimson stallion’s coat, making his neck almost sparkle in its brilliance.  Gina had been so enchanted by Flame that she hadn’t noticed Antonia escort a man and teenaged boy into the barn.  She looked over to see the gate open on the barn side of the arena as she slowed Flame to a trot on the opposite side.  She tensed up when she saw the teenager was her classmate, Chet.  He followed along behind Antonia as she led Patriot, the gray son of Spirit, their resident black stallion, into the arena, while the man leaned on the outside of the red pipe fencing and watched.  Chet saw her at the same time and smiled.  Not a friendly smile, but more like a sneer.  He held is phone up and the sun reflected off it.  Flame was already tense because he reacted to the tense signals coming from Gina’ body.  Gina wasn’t prepared when Flame bolted, so when Flame ended up on the other end of the arena, she was left in the dust in their last location together.

            Chet started laughing.  Laughing at her, the way they always did at Dale City High… 

           

            A week had gone by and during that time the video had gone viral, well, viral among Dale City High students anyway.  Gina found herself where she often did after being subjected to the almost daily humiliation that was Dale City High.  She was crying into Timmy, the golden pony’s, neck while he silently consoled her.  She felt something press into her back and turned to find Flame offering his muzzle for a kiss.  His best friend, Blaze, watched the trio from a short distance away.

            Timmy was in the paddock with the two chestnut Arabians recuperating from an eye infection.  The brothers loved the pony because he had been their caretaker when they first arrived at the ranch to help them get adjusted.  Timmy had a knack for calming other horses and was often utilized for his “nursemaid” capabilities.

            “Gina!”

            Gina looked toward the paddock gate to see her friend, Strider Castillo. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and waved as she headed for the gate.

            Strider hugged her when she turned toward him after closing the gate.  Then he stepped back and looked at her face.

            “You’ve been crying.  Are you okay?” he asked.

            “I’m fine,” Gina lied.

            Strider wasn’t fooled.   He had known Gina all through high school.

            “It’s those bullies isn’t it?  That video going around Facebook?” he asked.

            Gina started crying again.  He held her again and said, “You have to stop this Gina.  When you let them get to you, they win.”

            Gina took a deep breath, stepped back and looked Strider in the eye and said, “That’s easy for you to say.  You’re starting college this year, so you don’t have to deal with them anymore.”

            “Exactly my point.  They’re nobody to us.  You just have one more year to deal with those losers,” said Strider.

            “I thought at least I’d get a break from them in the summer, but it seems like they’ll always be in my life.”

            “They won’t,” said Strider. “Trust me.”

            Strider and Gina walked into the barn to find Jalissa and Antonia feeding the horses. 

            Gina’s entire demeanor changed, and she called out, “Jalissa!” as she ran to her and swept her up in a big hug.

            The expression of pure joy on Gina’s face at seeing Jalissa was not lost on Strider.

            “Gina, why don’t you and Jalissa take the wheelbarrow and get some hay.  I’ll finish graining the horses,” said Antonia.

            Gina practically skipped off with Jalissa.

           

            The next morning Gina and Strider took Flame and Blaze out on the trails at the ranch.  They had been enjoying the clear, crisp morning trotting and loping the two brothers along the flat parts of the trails.  Now they rode side by side, talking as they headed back to the barn.

            “Gina, I’ve noticed the way you look at Jalissa,” said Strider.

            “What do you mean?” asked Gina.

            “I mean, it’s obvious you’re attracted to her.”

            “She’s beautiful.  Anyone would be attracted to her,” said Gina.

            “You know what I mean,” said Strider.

            “Look Strider, I’m happy for you. You know…that you’re out of the closet and all, but believe it or not some, no, most of the world is straight,” said Gina.

            Flame took a couple of high steps because he sensed Gina’s tenseness.  She relaxed a little, “Sorry boy,” she said to Flame as she reached down and rubbed the stallion’s neck.

            “Yeah, most of the world is straight, I guess.  But not you,”

            “Strider, just because I notice someone is pretty…well, it doesn’t mean anything.  And besides, I don’t want to go to Hell.”

            “So you think I’m going to Hell?” Strider laughed.

            “No, of course not.  You’re too nice, but I would…”

            “Now you listen Gina. I know you’ve been raised in this holy roller religious bullshit, but this is what I think.  God made me this way, and God doesn’t make mistakes.”

            Gina sighed and said quietly, “That’s beautiful.”

They rode the rest of the way to the barn in silence.  When they reached the outer, arena gate, they stopped and watched as Chet cantered Patriot around the arena.  Patriot rounded the far end and was then heading toward them.  When the graceful, gray gelding drew near their position and saw them, he slammed on the brakes.  Chet wasn’t ready for that, so he was launched in the air over the front of Patriot’s lowered head and landed on the floor of the arena hard.  He started crying.  Then he shouted, “Shut off that camera, faggot!”

            Gina looked over at Strider and saw his hand raised with phone in hand, obviously videoing the incident with a broad smile spread across the width of his chiseled brown face.

            For a moment Gina smiled too.  But then she reached over and pulled Strider’s arm down.

            “I don’t want to be like them, Strider,” said Gina.

            “But…,”

            Strider saw the sincerity in Gina’s eyes.  He put the phone in his pocket.

            “I love you, Gina,” said Strider.

            “I love you too,” said Gina.

           

           

         

BlazeandFlamePaddock
Blaze and Flame
Patriot Headshot
Patriot

 

 

Bargain Table Horse Books and Arabians

IMG_4353

It seems that every horse coffee table book I’ve ever picked up from a book store bargain table always includes Arabian horses.  I started thinking about this because I was disappointed that the book pictured above doesn’t contain one of my favorite breeds, Marwari.  But then I thought, well, I guess it would be pretty impossible to include every breed of horse in every coffee table book.  But then I thought further and realized they always include Arabians.  (At least the ones I’ve seen.)

This book even has one section completely devoted to them:

IMG_4354

While the rest of the breeds are grouped into categories:

IMG_4355

A quote from the book: “With his tiny curved ears, large liquid eyes, extravagantly dished face and luxurious mane and tail, the Arabian is the horse of dreams.”

Another quote: “This beautiful ancient breed is thought to go as far back as 3000BC and has strongly influenced many of today’s more modern breeds of horse.”

I’ve been aware for some time that the Arabian horse influenced many other breeds, most notably the thoroughbred through the three foundation stallions;

The Byerley Turk:

270px-Byerly_Turk
The Byerley Turk by John Wootton

The Darley Arabian:

Darley_Arabian
The Darley Arabian stallion painting by John Wootton

And the Godolphin Arabian (my personal favorite):

Godolphin_Arabian
The Godolphin Arabian, by George Stubbs

(I’ll write more about these three Arabians in another post.)  I was surprised to learn that Arabians also directly influenced the American Quarter Horse.  Growing up in Texas, it always seemed that Quarter Horse owners and Arabian owners are of different mindsets.  It still seems that way actually. So other than a little Arabian blood coming through to the American Quarter Horse via early Thoroughbred foundation stallions, I had no idea that there were full blooded Arabians among the early Quarter Horses until I read an article in the December 2018 issue of Equus that mentioned two Crabbet-bred Arabians who were direct sire-line descendants of Mesaoud, one of the foundation sires of the Crabbet Arabian Stud in England.

Mesaoud
Mesaoud at Crabbet Park

The stallions were Astraled and Ribal:

Astraled

ribal2

I never tire of learning about Arabian horses and their influence on other breeds and their appearance throughout human history.  I have much more to learn about the Arabian horse, but as in everything I love, I am a life-long learner.  I welcome comments and additional information as I know this blogpost just barely scratches the surface. I’m learning as I write!