Love of horses started with a Rocking Horse

My love for the horse started when I was very young. I was three years old and my parents bought us (my older brother and me), a rocking horse. My brother and I fought over who would ride the horse ...My love for the horse started when I was very young. I was three years old and my parents bought us (my older brother and me), a rocking horse. My brother and I fought over who would ride the horse ...

Story originally posted by Horsecity.com Staff

I read your request on the internet about writing to you and explaining or telling how I came to love horses.

I’m sure those of us who do love horses do not know the hour or day or the exact date of when we fell in love with one of God’s most noble and impressive creatures known to mankind.

My love for the horse started when I was very young. I was three years old and my parents bought us (my older brother and me), a rocking horse. My brother and I fought over who would ride the horse constantly and my parents had to make us share the horse. My older brother loved horses too. He probably picked up the horse bug the same way I did.

While I do not remember this part of my life I do remember the impact it had on me all of my childhood. When i was 7 or 8 years old my parents agreed to take care of a friend’s farm when they moved from the farm they had to another farm some 300 miles away. They had to leave their 3 horses in my mom and my dad’s care while they got the other farm ready. I was in seventh heaven! We were allowed to ride the black horse, Buddy, but the white one and the chestnut quarter horses were off limits to us children. The only thing the grownups would say was that they weren’t suitable for children. We didn’t mind because we had Buddy, even if it was for only a month or so.

Eventually, the owners came and got the horses, except for the chestnut Quarter horse. He put up such a fight to leave that they couldn’t get him loaded in the trailer, so they turned him back into the pasture and would try again in another month or so. The only problem was that he got out of the pasture and was running around the farm loose. I got a bucket of carrots and feed and we tried to catch him but he only ran away. I knew how he felt about leaving his home so I decided to make friends with him. Eventually I was able to get close enough to him to feed him carrots and grain by hand and then we could get a rope around his neck and he let me lead him back to his pasture. My Dad figured that it was nighttime when they turned him loose after fighting with him and instead of putting him inside the fence, they turned him loose. At any rate, Brownie, (I named him that), ended up being loose and we were lucky he stayed close.

The owner’s eventually came and picked Brownie up and I was heartbroken. My dream of having a horse was over and I knew my parents would never let me have a horse of my own. I was 8 years old and I had made friends with a big beautiful animal that didn’t trust too many grownups. My love for horses was so intense, I was accused of being "horse crazy", which I was even more after that experience.

There was a reason for my parents’ refusing to let me have a horse; I had asthma so bad then that sometimes I had to be in an oxygen tent. I was on medicine and there were a lot of times I didn’t get to ride Buddy and I would have to watch as my brothers and our friends got to ride.

That didn’t stop me from wanting or loving horses, I had friends who had horses and my parents threw up their hands from trying to stop me when it came to being around horses. I got to spend some time with other people’s horses and that had to do me for the time I was a kid.

My experience with Brownie haunted me and I always said when I grew up I was going to own a horse of my own. I have and I did. Health reasons forced me to sell my own horses, but I still have retained the intense love I’ve had for them even now and I will always love and respect horses for as long as I live. My health is better and when I can afford it I will have horses back in my life.

Darlene J. Daugherty