I think it was a Wednesday eight years ago, when a big fancy rig pulled into our farm, with not even a days notice. Arriving from New York, Prime was spotless stepping off the trailer, beautiful shiny coat, big sad brown eyes. The former trainer shipped him wearing no wraps and a raggedy nylon halter. He was a big boy, quiet, with little personality, and no real need for contact with people. He never made a sound, didn't nicker, whinny, bang walls, or doors, or buckets at feeding time. He did everything like a robot, on a routine, and he had absolutely NO idea what treats were.
It wasn't until Saturday night, that I took notice of Prime having any personality at all. I had a show the next day with Mister and was making a big fuss over him. I had fed and watered all the horses myself that night, as my dad and grandmother were racing. Before starting to braid up my show horse, Mister, I made the decision to move him to his stall, directly across from Prime. I was braiding him up in his stall when I looked across and saw Prime peeking over his stall door and across the isle way at us. I was talking to Mister and Prime's ears were moving to catch every word I said. Every time I gave Mister another treat, Prime's bottom lip started flipping, like he was taking a treat too. I walked over and offered him a treat, but he wouldn't take it and went to the back corner of his stall. I went back to Mister's stall, stood up on a bucket, and kept on braiding Mister's mane. Prime moved back to his door, so he could get a better view of what I was doing to my horse. What a silly horse I thought.
The next morning bright and early wearing riding clothes under wind pants and a sweat shirt, I headed out to the barn to make some last finishing touches on Mister before leaving for the show. I walked into the barn and as I was pulling Mister out on cross ties, my father said, "You forgot to feed the new horse last night. You forgot his grain and his hay." Prime had never made a sound, never banged his bucket, all he did was flip his lip. Prime hadn't wanted a treat, he was asking me to feed him! I felt awful and as a habit grabbed some treats to go and apologize. I walked into Prime's stall, he was standing quietly in his corner as he had done since he got here, and I said "I'm sorry" and offered the treats. Just then Prime looked at me with his big sad brown eyes, and gently took his first treats.
Later on, a qualifier had been scheduled for Prime and the young colt we had in training. My father asked me to help him for the day and go to the track. Barely 13 years old, I unloaded the 16.2 hand gelding and led him to his stall in the paddock area. With me he was quiet as can be.
I helped lug water and get Prime's racing gear together. He was harnessed and hitched and the hired driver hopped into the cart. They forgot his head number as they headed out to the track. He was hell on four legs, wound up beyond recognition of the quiet horse I handled earlier. He attempted to take off pacing full throttle with the driver during the short warm up before the qualifier. The driver had all he could do to keep Prime somewhat under control.
The qualifier was ready to go and Prime was ready to go, when over the speakers came the request for Prime's trainer to put his head number on. The driver turned Prime around and headed the jogging direction. Prime came back around towards the paddock area ready to go and ticked off about the change of direction. My dad ran out to put his number on and barely had it on when Prime acted up and slammed him into the outer wall of the race track. People were now under the impression that Prime was a complete nut.
Turning him back around to the racing direction, the driver held on tight and had all he could do to keep Prime from taking off with him. Prime went on to win his qualifier and didn't want to stop to come back in. My father led him in from the track and put him on cross ties. Then 13 year old, 90-something pound me, took over helping to unharness and bath him, and then walked him out around the paddock area. When it was time to go, I led him out and helped load him. Prime was a little bit of a head case on the track then, but he never once over stepped his boundaries off the track.
Years later, it was August 2005 when Prime had a few slow races, and I was told to throw a saddle on him. I bridled Prime, led him to a paddock, and jumped on him bareback. I let him sit there for a minute getting used to my legs and having weight on his back. He just turned his head and looked at me, "What are you doing up there?". Then I asked for a walk and we walked around a bit. He did well, so I went in, grabbed my saddle, and saddled him up. I asked for a trot and got a pace, but I took it. Then my dad walked up, opened the gate, and told me to take him out on the track. I did. I walked and paced him around the track, with a few steps of trot. He was quiet and trustworthy right from the beginning.
Over the next week I rode him every day. He learned the difference between the pace and the trot, and that I wanted him to trot under saddle. He learned to walk and trot ground poles, and went for a ride or two with my sister riding Mister. Not even a week after he'd been started under saddle, my then 10 year old sister with limited horse experience, wanted to show. I already had a student that was showing Mister that day in the same classes, so sent Kayleigh with Prime and they placed in the top 5 in every class they entered. Prime was a champ, acted as if he'd been shown every day of his life. A few days later, Prime was entered to race at Windsor Fair and his newly started under saddle career also launched a winning streak racing.
The following year, Prime would be started in riding lessons and later he would be the one to fill the very big shoes left after Mister's passing. Prime has given many children their first rides, taken children to their first shows, and has been the star for children who had never before been able to say they knew a race horse in the local races. He's talented, loyal, honest, and trustworthy. He's PrimeOfYourLife.
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