Horse Experiences, Memories and Opinions

My name is Tom Simmons. I have had Morgan horses since 1963. I have trained almost any breed you can think of. I have had a good amount of success. I have written articles for Western Horseman, The Morgan Horse, and The Carriage Journal. In the 47 years that I have worked horses, I have seen a lot. I would like to share with you some of my experiences, opinions and memories. Please feel free to email your thoughts. I will try to address them. Tom

Location: North Carolina

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Trail Horse

When I think of trail horses, I always think about the palomino ½ arab that I broke for me a Mr. White that lived at English, Indiana. This mare was kind of a tough cookie but I got her riding pretty good and sent her home. After about a week, Mr. White called me and said he was having a hard time getting her to pass about 4 or 5 places on the farm. He had about 800 acres of woods with some nice roads through it. He thought that if I came down on Sunday and brought the wife and kids we could have a cook out. He and I could ride the trails, with me riding the mare of course. When we got the mare saddled I asked him what horse was he going to ride. He told me he thought that he would drive the pick-up and I could follow him to the places tha the was having trouble passing. So off we went. The first two places were a snap. The third place was on top of a little hill where the road dropped over the other side. The mare started to give a hard time about passing a large rock right at the top of the hill. Mr. White stopped the pickup and was watching me. She didn’t want to go at first, but when she decided to go, she went. I can see Mr. White now, he was a large man so it was difficult for him to turn and watch us through the back glass. I can see his eyes now as this mare was closing in on the old pickup which had no tail gate.
When we got to the truck the mare went right up into the back of the pickup with me still sitting in the middle of her. As she was stomping in the bed of this pickup every once in a while I would get a glimpse of Mr. White’s eyes, which were wide with amazement. I didn’t know what to do but I knew that we couldn’t keep stomping in the bed of this pickup. So I turned her around and rode her back out of the pickup. I asked Mr.White if he could not stop quite as close to the crossing.