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was the night before Thanksgiving and all through the house is…well, yummy. It’s night-night time and I’m all snuggled in. I peruse Facebook from my pillow and what to my wandering eyes does appear? A tag that leads me to a rescued-from-the-kill-pen post and it’s one of my Morgans—Black Willow Tamarac. Then their was rage.
I have always bred registered horses. I have enjoyed tremendously the cross-bred and grade horses I’ve had the privilege of knowing, owning, and getting bucked from (hey, I grew up riding rescues from the horse auction and half-brokes.) I think my dairy roots grew deep - my father bred registered cattle, and I’ve always cherished studying a great pedigree.
I walked an 18 year old, old friend, Black Willow Tamarac up my driveway tonight (actually she led me *home). I felt like Black Beauty's owner bringing Beauty home. She was pulled from a kill pen. A social media tag alerted me. Thank you Melissa Welk Shear. "Welcome home old friend!"
#rescued #morganhorse #mare #broodmare #catskillmountains
What’s a sweetheart like you doin’ in a dump like this? ~ Bob Dylan
that leads me to a rescued-from-the-kill-pen post and it’s
one of my Morgans; Black Willow Tamarac. Then their was
rage.
I have always bred registered horses. I have enjoyed
tremendously the cross-bred and grade horses I’ve had the
privilege of knowing, owning, and getting bucked from
(hey, I grew up riding rescues from the horse auction and
half-brokes.) I think my dairy roots grew deep - my father
bred registered cattle, and I’ve always cherished studying
a great pedigree.
I have bred registered Morgan horses since I was sixteen.
That’s forty years, and before you count up my age and tell
me its just a number, zip it. My belief early on and still today
has been that the world needs the sane, sensible, working
Morgans that my bloodline, a bloodline of which I happen
to be in the third successive line, is all about. That’s where
this story begins.
Black Willow Tamarac, or Tammy, was one of those first
generation Morgans I truly bred with vision. A mating to
produce a foal I would want to own, to potentially be my
forever horse, because that’s my mantra. Questions that I
would ask myself: Would a horse from this cross be a great
riding horse with superior athletic movement and lifelong
soundness of mind and body? Would this horse be
handleable with the ease that the bloodline is known to
possess? Would this mating produce something
genetically worthy of producing the next generation? Who
knows for sure the answer to any of those questions, but
at the very least I had to be convinced it would potentially
possess a strength that the previous generation lacked
before I permitted the mating. I am keenly aware of the
experience folks get.
Tammy was a full sister to one of our personal family riding and show horse, Black Willow Chyna Doll, so I knew Tammy would have caliber—probably the largest mare I ever produced. I called her my ballerina because of her lightness on her feet. Riding her gave you an experience like dancing.
Tammy was a full sister to one of our personal family
riding and show horse, Black Willow Chyna Doll, so I knew
Tammy would have caliber, probably the largest mare I
ever produced. I called her my ballerina because of her
lightness on her feet. Riding her gave you an experience
like dancing.
Once upon a time I believed my Morgans, placed around
the equine universe, would have an effect. But being a
responsible herdsman lead to a different course of
action. Tammy had produced Black Willow Patriot for me,
a colt I knew would pass on all the bloodline had to offer.