About Sonny

Susan, like me, was born horse crazy. She worked at a local barn cleaning stalls in order to afford a horse. I only heard her tell the story once, but the horse she had was in poor health and died. The people at the barn gave her Sonny. He was from a Standard bred rescue but had never raced, he was too slow, but he sure was fast enough for us!

Sonny was the type of horse with a work ethic. Point him in the right direction, ask him to move and off he went. Susan used a copper roller bit with shanks on him to keep him in check, he loved to suck on the copper and responded to the slightest touch of the bit. She also taught him just a light pressure to his sides meant “GO” and go he did! I asked her once, isn’t that dangerous and her reply, “well, no one is ever gonna own him but me!”.

I use to love to ride Sonny. I had to work my way up to it; he was not for a beginner rider. We would get on the fireroads and get into his standard bred pacing. Instead of trotting where the diagonal feet take turns, each side goes in tandem. The effect is a gentle sway side to side. Some people cannot stand it, I loved it and so did Sue.


Susan had another game with Sonny. He was a little girthy and sensitive when tightening up the saddle. He would turn his head and snap in the air, something you really don’t want a horse to do. She would bite him on the neck. It was another one of those habits you don’t want to pass on to another owner….


Sonny had no sentimentality. He was definitely not an arab and wanted to just do his job, do it well and go back to his friends in pasture. He taught me how fun it is to just “GO” on a well trained, safe horse and enhanced my equine desires. Everyone should have a horse like Sonny in their lives at some point…

First ride....

“Whats the matter with you? Don’t tell me you are too afraid to get on that horse” Jim, the barn owner, said to me with a smirk. “He isn’t going to hurt you! Hell, I had a cowboy hop on his back when he was two years old and he only bucked a few times!”

“Well, I don’t really want any bucks” I said shyly. I had been dumped enough learning to ride Sue’s horses that I knew risking serious injury was just dumb. “Then I guess I better get on him for you and show you he won’t hurt you”! Next thing I knew Jim had a big, heavy western saddle on Mystery’s back and hopped right on. Mystery just stood there, bracing against the weight, ears to the side and didn’t move. “See, he won’t hurt you”!

I don’t remember the first time I rode him. It was probably in the round pen, probably with Sue and her horses. I do remember the mechanical hackamore Susan gave me to use on him. I didn’t know it then, but it can be a very harsh piece of equipment if used in the wrong hands. By then I was riding ‘western’ with a loose rein and I knew enough to release the pressure when I achieved the response I wanted. If I asked him to stop, he would stop and pressure would be released. If not I would pull, release, pull release until he did. Susan also taught me to use my leg to circle him and keep him from going forward. I started riding him. First in the round pen, then out in the open space with Susan babysitting us.

That summer was short, and brief. The horses looked good, the grass had grown in, and we were supplementing their feed. Days were spent at the pond at the back of the ranch with Sue and her kids. Or just fooling around with the horses, pretending we were teenagers again.
When Sue couldn’t ride, I would work on Mystery, and then catch Sonny for a ‘real’ ride. One day Susan and I were out riding and turned to head home. Mystery spooked and came to a sudden stop. I went over his shoulder and landed flat on my back…something I did quite often until I learned to really sit my seat. He was loose and I figured I’d be walking the rest of the way home but instead he came over to me and peered down into my face like “what are you doing down there?”. Good horse.

But this wasn’t ‘real’ training. Mystery was a mature horse, self-reliant, use to taking care of himself. As he put on weight and condition, he became more head strong. Soon, we started arguing, where to go, how fast, when to stop. My work had just begun….

My Own Horse...now what?

Finally, after years of wanting, dreaming, forgetting the dream, remembering, I had a horse to call my own. For better or for worst. 'They' say “green + green = black and blue”, and by this time I knew why; but back then all I wanted to do was ride, ride and ride!

The ranch was adjacent to hundreds of acres of open space…old Indian lands filled with oak, Manzanita and rocky outcrops with ancient grinding bowls used for centuries to harvest and grind acorns.
I owned my own horse! I could ride for hours and not come across people; explore old homesteads and side trails, if I could only find the courage to ride him! I knew nothing about ‘breaking’ a horse and Mystery was almost 8, mature, confident and independent. He wanted to eat. He did not want to be groomed, or touched. I started the only way I could, by becoming what I hoped would be his friend.

Days were spent walking with the herd in pasture and just following them around. I was fascinated by the hierarchy of the herd and their silent communications. One flick of the ear, one threat with a hind foot, and the offender would be sent on his or her way. One day, hanging out at the top of a rolling slope, I sat down and took off my shoe to clean out grass heads caught in my socks. I looked up to see Mystery staring at me intently. He came over and put his head down curious about my bare foot. I put my barefoot up and he sniffed it, then he looked at the other foot like “well, what about that one”? I untied my other shoe and took it off, then lifted my foot for his inspection. He sniffed, curiousity satisfied, and meandered off to graze. That was our ‘first’ real contact and I was thrilled.

Soon I had him in a halter and started to teach him to lead. I did everything wrong; of course! I had a pouch attached to my belt with pieces of carrot and I bribed him. He would do anything for food and soon I had him following me around like a little puppy. I was very vocal with him and he soon learned “ho” (I learned that from Susan), walk, back. We would open gates together from the ground and go for walks in the open space, but I still did not have the courage to get on his back. I had taken a bad fall from Sonny a few months earlier and could not bring myself to do it.

One day I tied him, too long of course, and I looked back just as he was crawling under the rail, from one side to the next, still tied. He squatted down like a big dog and crawled under, his head twisted back while his butt got through, and then stood up. He just wanted to be on the other side and when he was trapped, he did not panic but just figured it out. Again, I was amazed I actually owned a horse; in particular this one. I knew the time had come to ride him, if we were to move forward with our training…..

I love Bears!

Bears have the right idea. Sleep all winter, eat and have sex all summer, be afraid of no one (except other bears). And they are cute, but I wouldn't want to go hug one!

Susan and Goobs....

I found a few pictures of Susan and Gambol, or Goobs as we called him. Susan had Gambol for years and wherever she went, he went. When she joined the military, my other cousin Lori took him for a while. He lost an eye to a tumor I believe, and when I started learning to ride on him, I think he was around 18 or 19. Goobs was a smart Anglo Arab and if he didn't like you, he would head for the nearest tree and rub you off on a low branch. He liked to head butt a person too so one had to be careful they didn't get knocked to the ground with his head. Here is Sue giving Gambol a good scratching...

On this particular day, we got dropped off at the far end of the pasture and caught Sonny and Gambol for a ride to the gate. Bareback, no helmet, and not really knowing how to ride, I hung on for dear life as the herd headed up the hill and down the other side coming to a sliding stop at the bottom. I'll always remember that day; the adrenaline, the laughter, and just being glad I didn't get dumped!

Susan, giving last minute instructions before the wild ride began!

First Meeting....

Gambol (white Anglo Arab) & Sonny (Standard Bred)

“Who is that horse?” I eagerly asked my cousin Sue, while we were standing outside the pasture watching the herd graze in their golden, oat filled California pasture. He is drop dead gorgeous! Dark bay with a straight back, the young horse was nose to nose with another colt around his age, eagerly eating the long stalks of oats as fast as he possibly could. “Oh, you could never afford him” she said. “He is out of the owner’s Morgan mare and was a surprise one morning. His dad was just a 2 year old arab colt who jumped the fence and was out the next day. Then this little guy appeared, surprise! That is why they named him Mystery”.

I was living in a studio apartment working a 40 hour job and putting myself through school and was in no position to think about buying a horse. I had been horse crazy all my life but after being thrust into a life of poverty from my parents nasty divorce when I was 10, I gave up any dream and hope of ever owning one myself. Now I was almost 30, just finishing my degree, and since reunited with my cousin had rediscovered my love for horses. She was teaching me how to care for horses and ride; first on her old arab gelding Gambol, then later on her high spirited standard bred, Sonny. I was grateful to my cousin for putting up with my presence every weekend; knowing she had a busy life with two kids of her own; but we were becoming great friends and I knew she was horse crazy too and welcomed the escape.

The following winter, the herd of 19 horses living on 100 acres started to look skinny. Susan told me the owners were going through a very nasty divorce and the wife had left. The ranch owner was not caring for the horse or feeding them; most had been left by irresponsible boarders or collected by his soon to be ex wife and he didn’t want to bother with them. Susan and I started to bring bales of hay up every weekend and feed the herd. One day we had her two horses tied to the rail feeding and grooming them. I looked up in time to see a dark bay jump the pasture fence and come to us. It was Mystery, and he was hungry. We threw him a bale of hay and he ate but would not let us touch him. When we put her horses back, he followed. We were both amazed he would leave the security of the herd to seek us out for food and were getting more and more concerned about the condition of the herd.

Soon after, Susan frantically called me on the phone. “Jim is taking all the horse down to auction and selling them for meat prices!”, she said. “He said you can have Mystery for $100 over the meat price…about $400”. I was not set up in my life to own a horse. “I’ll help you break him and then we can sell him to someone who will finish training him and give him a good home”. I agreed to it and that weekend drove out to hand over the money. Mystery was inside the solid walled round pen. When I drove up, I could hear him screaming and slamming against the wall. Peering over the wall I could see him rearing and striking the fence with his feet. “Oh Lord, what am I getting myself in to”? Still, I wrote the check, thinking it would only be a temporary situation and that I would find him a good home. Little did I know this would be a lifetime of experiencing a partnership with a horse of my own….