Prankster getting my brother’s attention
For the past fifty years, this date especially stands out on my calendar. Whenever November 27 comes around, I think back to a skinny freckled eleven year old girl who wanted nothing more than to have her own horse. Every inch of my bedroom wall had posters of horses, all my shelves were filled with horse books and horse figurines and my bed was piled with stuffed horses. I suffered an extremely serious case of horse fever.
I had learned to ride my big sister’s horse while my sister was off to college, but the little mare had pushed down a hot wire to get into a field of spring oats which resulted in a terrible case of colic and had to be put down. I was inconsolable until I set my mind to buy another horse. We had only a small shed, not a real barn, and no actual fences other than the electric hot wire. Though I was earning money as best I could picking berries and babysitting, I was a long way away from the $150 it would take to buy a trained horse back in 1965. So I dreamed my horsey dreams, mostly about golden horses with long white manes, hoping one day those dreams might come true.
In fall 1965, the local radio station KGY’s Saturday morning horse news program announced their “Win a Horse” contest. I knew I had to try. The prize was a weanling bay colt, part Appaloosa, part Thoroughbred, and the contest was only open to youth ages 9 to 16 years old. All I had to do was write a 250 word or less essay on “Why I Should Have a Horse”. I worked and worked on my essay, crafting the right words and putting all my heart into it, hoping the judges would see me as a worthy potential owner. My parents took me to visit the five month old colt named “Prankster”, a fuzzy engaging little fellow who was getting plenty of attention from all the children coming to visit him, and that visit made me even more determined. When I read these words now, I realize there is nothing quite like the passion of an eleven year old girl:
“Why I Should Have a Horse”
When God created the horse, He made one of the best creatures in the world. Horses are a part of me. I love them and want to win Prankster for the reasons which follow:
To begin with, I’m young enough to have the time to spend with the colt. My older sister had a horse when she was in high school and her school activities kept her too busy to really enjoy the horse. I’ll have time to give Prankster the love and training needed.
Another reason is that I’m shy. When I was younger I found it hard to talk to anybody except my family. When my sister got the horse I soon became a more friendly person. When her horse recently died (about when Prankster was born), I became very sad. If I could win that colt, I couldn’t begin to describe my happiness.
Also I believe I should have a horse because it would be a good experience to learn how to be patient and responsible while teaching Prankster the same thing.
When we went to see Prankster, I was invited into the stall to brush him. I was never so thrilled in my life! The way he stood there so majestically, it told me he would be a wonderful horse.
If I should win him, I would be the happiest girl alive. I would work hard to train him with love and understanding. If I could only get the wonderful smell and joy of horses back in our barn!
I mailed in my essay and waited.
On November 27, 1965, my mother and I listened to the local horse program that was always featured on the radio at 8 AM on Saturday mornings. They said they had over 300 essays to choose from, and it was very difficult for them to decide who the colt should go to. I knew then I didn’t have a chance. They had several consolation prizes for 2nd through 4th place, so they read several clever poems and heartfelt essays, all written by teenagers. My heart was sinking by the minute.
The winning essay was next. The first sentence sounded very familiar to me, but it wasn’t until several sentences later that we realized they were reading my essay, not someone else’s. My mom was speechless, trying to absorb the hazards of her little girl owning a young untrained horse. I woke up my dad, sick in bed with an early season flu, who opened one eye, looked at me, and said, “I guess I better get a fence up today, right?” I have been forever grateful to him that he pulled himself together and put up a wood corral that afternoon, despite feeling so miserable.
That little bay colt came home to live with me the next day. Over the next few months he and I did learn together, as I checked out horse training books from the library, and joined a 4H group with helpful leaders to guide me. I made plenty of mistakes along the way, learning from each one, including those that left behind scars I still bear. Prankster was a typical adolescent gelding who lived up to his name — full of mischief with a sense of humor and a penchant for finding trouble, but he was mine and that was all that mattered.
By the time he was two, I was sitting on him, and when he was three, my Christmas present that year was a beautiful western saddle. We spent many happy hours riding trails in the nearby woods and enjoying life in the moment.
When it was time for me to leave for college, I knew I could no longer afford to keep him, so found Prankster a forever home to live out his days as I spent the next 13 years of my life living and learning in the city. Horse dreams still visited me in my sleep and swept me into book stores to pore over horse books. I knew I’d had my once-in-a-lifetime special “gift” by winning my first horse, so the next horse I would have to earn on my own. I worked long hours, many nights and many holidays, earning what I could to eventually move from Seattle to own land for a farm.
Along the way, I met a farm boy also temporarily displaced to Seattle and together we worked toward building our farm dream while planning our future together. During our weekly Friday evening bookstore visit, I had opened one discount picture book and discovered the golden horses of my childhood dreams, running wild through green mountain meadows, their white manes and tails streaming out behind them. I bought that book in a heartbeat, and began my search for a breed previously unknown to me before — the magical Haflinger. Within a month of our moving to the farm, on November 27, 1985, our first Haflinger mare joined us. Over the past thirty years, we’ve owned dozens of Haflingers, most born and raised here, and today six are still happily munching hay out in our barn.
Twenty years separated my first horse from my second horse, but November 27 stands out as the day a kid’s dream came true. As I clean our barn every morning, I marvel at the privilege it has been to share this land and this farm life with my husband, my children, and these beautiful horses. They all owned me, heart and soul, because of a first prize fuzzy bay colt fifty years ago.
Prankster helping my dad build a new farm building
Prankster’s favorite drinking fountain
Galaxy, the first Haflinger born on our farm, entertaining at the fair
A few of our many BriarCroft Haflingers raised here over the years
15 thoughts on “Fifty Years Ago Today”
Emily, I loved your story! It reminds me of the mare I had. I was shy and horse crazy also. Orphan Annie was part Paint and Arabian, and she lived to be (almost) 30. She ended up on my sister’s farm at the end of her life.
A wonderful story. God wires each of us in a way that uniquely connects us to Him. When we fulfill our purpose we find contentment. For you it is horses. And in your care and love for them you feel God’s pleasure.
I enjoyed a “National Velvet” re-run yesterday, and your story even more today.
Emily, how blessed you were to “win” Prankster- you two were meant to be together. What a beautiful story! Thanks for sharing it with all of us.
What a wonderful story, especially close to Thanksgiving! It reminds me of how our loving, Heavenly Father delights to gift His children with the desires of their hearts.
Thank you for sharing your memories. Congrats on winning that essay! Excellent! It encourages me to keep inspiring young people to “write those contest and scholarship essays.” Wonderful photos. I have never seen a horses mane so beautifully braided!
That story made me cry, even though I had heard part of it before. So many things to give thanks for, including you!
WHat a beautiful story! I too had horse fever and spent many days cleaning water buckets and mucking out stalls! You should think of publishing this – the essay, the horse, and your sick father building that fence. One of my favorites!
It continues to be such an honor for me that my very first horse (after having longed for one from the age of two) was one of your dream-horses, Emily. Nuance (now known as Bridey) is my dream come true. ❤️
Lovely account of the genesis of your Haflinger homestead and its precious much-loved equine ‘children.’
The part of your story that touched me especially was the way that your daddy left his sick bed to hurriedly erect a fence to keep Prankster safe in place. What a loving memory you have of your daddy’s affection for you.
Each person manifests his or her love in many different ways. (Men, especially, seem to have difficulty with overt shows of emotion at times. That does not mean that they do not have the feelings; it often means that society tells them that men do not show them.) We need always to recognize the
significance of these gifts that we receive from others. And remember and share them.
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Alice is right, and her comments reveal an important theme the story offers. In general, men do come up short in terms of self expression. I’ve often felt that “things unsaid” carry much more weight than what we actually do say. We are more likely to try to show our love rather than stating it.
That was absolutely my dad — showing rather than saying and that day he was superman.
P.S. The last photo (three horses) is lovely– would make a wonderful book cover!