Dad's Slides: Nick

St. Nicholas (named so because he was born December 23) was a Tennessee Walker/Thoroughbred cross that we bought as a two year old stallion. He came from the same breeder who sold us Flame. Why we bought two unbroken horses, one a stallion, for a thirteen year old girl and her younger sister is a mystery. But despite being an unbroken stallion, Nick was the kindest, gentlest horse I have ever known. 

 Nick getting a trim down by the river. My dad is holding him and talking to my uncle.

With his pink skin, blue eyes, and white coat, I thought Nick was an albino. But then one day when he had been out in the rain, I could see a faint blaze and that made me reconsider. I think he was actually a cremello or perlino.

We had him gelded within a week of his arrival. My youngest sister, Jenny, was six, and after the procedure was over, she turned to our father with a puzzled look and asked, "Dad, are YOU a gelding?" Even after all these years I can still hear his roar of laughter. 

I trained Nick to ride and he never gave me one bit of trouble - no bucks, no sass, just a willing acceptance to have me on his back and happy to meander wherever I wanted him to go. I was very lucky because, at thirteen and with most of my learning about training from books, I really didn't know what I was doing. 

 Leslie riding Nick with me behind them on Pokey.

We bought a beautiful black western saddle and bridle for Nick and rode him around the property and  trails in the woods. I'll never forget the time he went into a running walk with me - it was so smooth but I felt like I was flying along the trail.

I have a physical reminder of Nick that I've had since I was in 8th grade. I was cleaning his hooves, he lost his balance and wobbled, putting his foot down right onto mine. I lost my balance and fell, catching myself with my hands in the dirt. Nick took a small sidestep and stepped right on my finger.

He snapped the bone right under the knuckle and left a small scar after the broken bone healed. I could never fully bend that finger again. 

But I don't mind. The scar and stiff finger are tangible reminders of a sweet boy that I loved very much.