Monday Farm Story

When I was seven years old my dad started boarding several ponies for a friend of his. Up until this time we didn't have any horses on the farm. I was ecstatic, because I was totally in love with horses and I pretended that these ponies were MINE! They were all mares, and all ready to deliver foals the next spring. I doted on them constantly: I brushed these ponies, fed, walked and rode them and was in little girl heaven! The owners didn't come too often to see them, which was fine for me.

Spring came and all three mares delivered little pinto foals. One of the foals was born lame, for some reason. He limped on one foreleg. There was not an apparent reason for the limp, but it was a very obvious limp. The owner was not happy with this little lame colt, and didn't pay much attention to him. I was drawn to him though, he was tiny and seemed a little weak to me. I spent much of my time with this little guy, halter-breaking him and leading him around the farm like a little limping puppy dog.

On the night of my 8th birthday in June, the phone rang and my dad spent a while talking to someone--I wasn't paying much attention until I heard him say my name. He said, "Well, today is her birthday--do you want to talk to her?" I was baffled as I took the phone and listened in disbelief as Mr. Olsen asked me if I would like to own the little limping colt. He didn't have the time or patience to work with a lame horse, and didn't want the responsibility. He knew however that I adored this pony and wondered if I would care for it if he gave him to me. Would I??? Oh, yeah, a little girl's dream come true. We cosulted with some friends who had horses and although it was a long shot, I began massaging the foreleg a couple of times a day with horse liniment, and I walked and walked and walked him, round and round the farm--limpedy limp, limpedy limp. I named him "Banner" because I had just read the book "My Friend Flicka" and there was a stallion named Banner in the book. He grew quite quickly, and caught up to the other colts in size, and was a beautiful bay and white pinto color. His neck and head were mostly bay and he had a beautiful star and stripe down his nose. He was calm, smart and friendly--and he loved the attention I poured out on him. He would rumble a little greeting to me when I approached him in the corral to put his halter on. One hot August morning he was comfortably laying down in the corral and I brought my liniment out to massage his front leg. After I finished rubbing him down, he scrambled to his feet and began slowly walking over to the hay rack for a snack--WITHOUT LIMPING! I stared for a minute with my mouth hanging open, and then started whooping and hollering for joy.

That was the last day Banner limped. He grew sturdy and strong, and was taller than any of the other ponies. He was a beautiful horse, and it was a natural thing for him to carry me on his back when he was two years old--I can't even say "I broke him", because one day I just hopped on his back and after swinging his head around in surprise to look at me, we just continued our adventures together, but farther away from home when we felt like wandering or visiting neighbors. I spent many golden childhood days on horseback, and if I close my eyes I can almost be there again, with the lovely smell and feel of a horse beneath me.