Riding-Stable Horses I

As a teen, I was in love with horses. I drew them, I read about them and I dreamed about them. One summer holiday, I got a job as a groom in our neighbour's riding stable. Working for Mrs. Beck opened up a new world -- that of individual horses seen up close.

I knew of Redwing before she bought him. I used to watch the Auckland brothers, who lived on the nearby island in the river, as they rode him bareback on the roads, his mane streaming. Red had the heavy curved neck and proud gait of a stallion. At the stable, I learned he'd been gelded, a bit of a shock. I took pride in grooming Redwing's coat until it glowed like a polished chestnut.

The high-spirited Arabian colt was called Sahara. When she arrived, I had a book out of the library about horse breeds. I could see right away that she had the classic Arabian features: small stature, dish-shaped face, delicate muzzle. One of my books said an Arabian horse's lips were so delicate that it could drink from a teacup.

Watching her small lips as she picked up and ate individual oats, I didn't doubt it.