Zucker, my first real horse.
July 19th, 2017, we brought back to the ranch my was-but-now-isn't retired horse Zucker (pronounced Sook-ah), a 25 year old Appendix QH mare I got when I was going to college in Kentucky. She wasn't always my horse, but as all great horses do, she has a great story.
We were living in Sanford, Florida on a ranch in 1999 and my dad decided he wanted a horse. We all wanted horses, and were in the long process of finding just the right ones for each of us, when late one summer night out of nowhere a huge truck and horse trailer pulls up and makes a delivery. It was the largest, shiniest, most lit up stock trailer I had ever seen, with only one occupant in it, a big, bay mare only 3 years old with a white star on her head and eyes the size of dinner plates. I should have know then that there was a reason my dad had not told me he was buying this horse. High strung, thy name was Zucker (or would be, that is). I spent a lot of time that night walking this horse around to cool her down from her stressful delivery all the while trying to convince my dad to call that horse trader and have him come take her back immediately, had he lost his mind? But no, dad had bought her because she was pretty, and she was staying.
Her given name was Sugar and through her short life she had made her way from Texas to Florida. She came with an interesting dark scar under her left eye and an already deep ingrained fear of EVERYTHING. I told dad there was no way on gods green earth we were keeping a horse name "Sugar", so she was renamed Zucker... which happens to be the German word for sugar. I've been explaining her name, and especially its pronunciation, practically ad nauseum, ever since. Dad kept her and rode her but she was never calm for him and had a great perchance for rearing and generally getting herself into trouble. Florida and her did not get along. The day I left for my internship in Kentucky that following January I took a picture of my dad and her right before I drove away. It was of dad holding up Zucker's head as she was just getting extremely groggy so the vet could stitch up the huge gash she had put in her hock from another great adventure on the farm. She still has that scar, and the one on her face, to this day.
Years later I was in my last two years of college studying Equine Science and renting a very small garage-turned-house on some property down the road from school. The landlord was very nice and said he had an old barn out back that used to keep livestock, and I could bring a horse if I'd like. My last classes were all horse-related anyways so it would make sense. I cleaned up the barn (it was a diamond in the rough, an old six stalled red barn with feed room and hay loft) and told my dad I was going to start looking for a horse of my own. His suggestion was "hey you can have mine!" I was immediately not in favor of the idea of taking his "crazy mare" off his hands, but before I could say "I'm sure I'll find something here," they had arrived. The whole trip from Florida to southwestern Kentucky Zucker couldn't be taken out of the trailer because she didn't trailer well at all, dad was sure he wouldn't get her out and back in again she was so bad, and that was just the beginning.
I didn't think it was going to work out at all. I had even taken pictures of her so I could put her up for sale, but after a few Come To Jesus meetings where I told her she was my horse and had to listen to me, most of the time at least, and she gave the mare-equivalent of "ok, fine, but I'm doing it my way and vaguely under duress," we worked it out. That last year of school ended up being great. Every Sunday when the whole of the Bible Belt of Murray, Kentucky was at church, Zuk and I went to our own version of church. We trail rode though the old woods and back roads, along soybean fields and the super scary tobacco crops (I never could figure out why she was spooked by tobacco plants). The smell of chewing tobacco still brings back memories of her and I walking past smoke houses full of hanging tobacco and slow burning wood fires. The woods there were so thick you could get lost on a few acres, and we did just that one Sunday ride. It was well on into full dark when I finally dropped the reins, hugged her neck to duck under the branches and told Zuk, "find home," and miraculously she did. We became, maybe not friends, but companions. She taught me that there was real truth to the saying that there is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man. In this case, a cranky bay mare prone to spooking and a college kid studying horsemanship who after 21 years finally got her first real horse.
After I graduated college I packed my horse, my dog and everything I owned and moved to Idaho. I met the boy and instead of moving on to follow my intention of working with horses as a career, I got married and started a family. Zucker came with me. She was a good horse, for still being a cranky mare, but she was getting older, and the idea of gaming and arena work did not appeal to her at all. My new life didn't have near the resources to afford keeping her just as a mouth to feed, so some friends of our family who liked to trail ride in the mountains took her in as a sort of retirement. I figured she would be much happier there, but after a few years it wasn't working out at all and the owner talked about selling her at auction. I arrived that next afternoon to bring her home, but ended up taking her to Angela's place down the road instead. She had a mare named Nikki who could have been her full blood sister, so she continued retirement in a mare band for almost two years. Angela couldn't keep her anymore, and me being in a much better financial and free-time position than I was years ago, we brought her back home. It's my intent for her to spend the rest of her life here, and thanks to Angela's good care, the damned mare looks like she may try to outlive me! My plans are to get her back under saddle and let my son ride her a bit, and see how that goes.
Had you told me that night 20-some years ago that someday my son might sit on the back of that cranky bay mare, I would have given you the taunting eyebrow of cynicism (way more powerful than the look of death, btw). Maybe he will come to spoil her and love her as much as I have.
We were living in Sanford, Florida on a ranch in 1999 and my dad decided he wanted a horse. We all wanted horses, and were in the long process of finding just the right ones for each of us, when late one summer night out of nowhere a huge truck and horse trailer pulls up and makes a delivery. It was the largest, shiniest, most lit up stock trailer I had ever seen, with only one occupant in it, a big, bay mare only 3 years old with a white star on her head and eyes the size of dinner plates. I should have know then that there was a reason my dad had not told me he was buying this horse. High strung, thy name was Zucker (or would be, that is). I spent a lot of time that night walking this horse around to cool her down from her stressful delivery all the while trying to convince my dad to call that horse trader and have him come take her back immediately, had he lost his mind? But no, dad had bought her because she was pretty, and she was staying.
Her given name was Sugar and through her short life she had made her way from Texas to Florida. She came with an interesting dark scar under her left eye and an already deep ingrained fear of EVERYTHING. I told dad there was no way on gods green earth we were keeping a horse name "Sugar", so she was renamed Zucker... which happens to be the German word for sugar. I've been explaining her name, and especially its pronunciation, practically ad nauseum, ever since. Dad kept her and rode her but she was never calm for him and had a great perchance for rearing and generally getting herself into trouble. Florida and her did not get along. The day I left for my internship in Kentucky that following January I took a picture of my dad and her right before I drove away. It was of dad holding up Zucker's head as she was just getting extremely groggy so the vet could stitch up the huge gash she had put in her hock from another great adventure on the farm. She still has that scar, and the one on her face, to this day.
Years later I was in my last two years of college studying Equine Science and renting a very small garage-turned-house on some property down the road from school. The landlord was very nice and said he had an old barn out back that used to keep livestock, and I could bring a horse if I'd like. My last classes were all horse-related anyways so it would make sense. I cleaned up the barn (it was a diamond in the rough, an old six stalled red barn with feed room and hay loft) and told my dad I was going to start looking for a horse of my own. His suggestion was "hey you can have mine!" I was immediately not in favor of the idea of taking his "crazy mare" off his hands, but before I could say "I'm sure I'll find something here," they had arrived. The whole trip from Florida to southwestern Kentucky Zucker couldn't be taken out of the trailer because she didn't trailer well at all, dad was sure he wouldn't get her out and back in again she was so bad, and that was just the beginning.
I didn't think it was going to work out at all. I had even taken pictures of her so I could put her up for sale, but after a few Come To Jesus meetings where I told her she was my horse and had to listen to me, most of the time at least, and she gave the mare-equivalent of "ok, fine, but I'm doing it my way and vaguely under duress," we worked it out. That last year of school ended up being great. Every Sunday when the whole of the Bible Belt of Murray, Kentucky was at church, Zuk and I went to our own version of church. We trail rode though the old woods and back roads, along soybean fields and the super scary tobacco crops (I never could figure out why she was spooked by tobacco plants). The smell of chewing tobacco still brings back memories of her and I walking past smoke houses full of hanging tobacco and slow burning wood fires. The woods there were so thick you could get lost on a few acres, and we did just that one Sunday ride. It was well on into full dark when I finally dropped the reins, hugged her neck to duck under the branches and told Zuk, "find home," and miraculously she did. We became, maybe not friends, but companions. She taught me that there was real truth to the saying that there is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man. In this case, a cranky bay mare prone to spooking and a college kid studying horsemanship who after 21 years finally got her first real horse.
After I graduated college I packed my horse, my dog and everything I owned and moved to Idaho. I met the boy and instead of moving on to follow my intention of working with horses as a career, I got married and started a family. Zucker came with me. She was a good horse, for still being a cranky mare, but she was getting older, and the idea of gaming and arena work did not appeal to her at all. My new life didn't have near the resources to afford keeping her just as a mouth to feed, so some friends of our family who liked to trail ride in the mountains took her in as a sort of retirement. I figured she would be much happier there, but after a few years it wasn't working out at all and the owner talked about selling her at auction. I arrived that next afternoon to bring her home, but ended up taking her to Angela's place down the road instead. She had a mare named Nikki who could have been her full blood sister, so she continued retirement in a mare band for almost two years. Angela couldn't keep her anymore, and me being in a much better financial and free-time position than I was years ago, we brought her back home. It's my intent for her to spend the rest of her life here, and thanks to Angela's good care, the damned mare looks like she may try to outlive me! My plans are to get her back under saddle and let my son ride her a bit, and see how that goes.
Had you told me that night 20-some years ago that someday my son might sit on the back of that cranky bay mare, I would have given you the taunting eyebrow of cynicism (way more powerful than the look of death, btw). Maybe he will come to spoil her and love her as much as I have.