Wheel of Ponies

It's a common sight, the "wheel of ponies", at the fair. Not a pretty sight, but a common one. The ponies are pretty but the job is miserable. There are, however, some pony ride operations that are concerned with the ponies well-being and have leaders for the ponies and enough ponies that they can be rotated throughout the day. I worked at one such operation as my first Summer job. The pony ride pavilion was a roadside attraction and even though the ponies were hitched to the wheel, an over-sized wagon wheel type structure with a slot for each pony, there was a grass paddock also, so that only 3 of 4 ponies were working at a time. During the day, I switched out ponies from one place to another. No pony had a shift more than 2 hours long. I loved that job. Some of the ponies loved that job. Some did not. The deal with the wheel is that whether or not a pony likes or wants to do his job, in the wheel, he gets dragged along or pushed from behind regardless of his motivation. The other ponies do the pushing or pulling. My favorite pony, Ruby, arrived each morning prancing on her way to the pavilion snorting, "Bring on the kids!"

With my supervision, the ponies were pampered, having their hair done, getting extra brushing, having frequent breaks and snacks, sprayed with repellent to protect them from mosquitoes dwelling at the nearby pond, and I made sure that kids too heavy for the ponies were politely told that the ponies were for small children only. Not all ponies fare as well. Some pony wheels are set up without a cover for shade or the ponies stay on the wheel for many hours each day. As a small child, I was oblivious to the plight of the ponies and could only revel in my joy of sitting on a real live pony, petting it's warm neck and whispering to it during my 2 minute ride, being completely sure that the pony recognized me as an expert equestrian. From the photos of those rides, it looks as though the ponies, while not in any way bursting with joy as Ruby was, at least were in good health.

Even though the pony wheel is a mundane life, for some ponies it is the only job they could have. Not all little-enough-for-the-wheel ponies have enough training to be suitable mounts for any other riding. It's hard to find a job for such small animals, and ponies , like all horses, need to have a source of exercise for their mental and physical health. Exercise does not have to be torturous, however. Before allowing children to contribute to the existence of pony wheels, please do a quick inspection of the ponies' condition. Are the ponies bony? They should not have hips like cows or have visible ribs. Conversely, neither should they resemble fuzzy manatees. Being obese is as bad for ponies as being underweight. Are the ponies under cover, protected from rain and sun? Don't be afraid to ask if the ponies get breaks from the wheel and for water. Do they look healthy in general with clear, open eyes, clean hair and skin, noses free of discharge and well-trimmed hooves? The hoof edges should be smooth, not splayed or ragged, and the hooves short, growing relatively straight down from the leg. If they are long and elf-shoe-ish, they need trimming. As I politely mentioned before, pony rides are for small children. If your child is taller than the pony, then find an alternative ride. A child weighing more than 80 pounds may be too heavy for the ponies. Some larger, sturdier ponies can carry over 100 pounds comfortably, but not your average pony-ride pony. For the ride, please instruct your child to sit quietly and not to kick the pony or squiggle about in the saddle.

Ponies are cute and fluffy but they are most definitely not playthings. They need to be treated with respect and dignity as should be all living beings. Except mosquitoes. I don't think anyone would fault you for disrespecting a mosquito.

After the Race is Run

Most ordinary people (meaning non-horse people) have seen, or are at least aware of, horse racing. Between the relatively recent movies of Seabiscuit and Secretariet and the annual Triple Crown races that air on broadcast tv every Spring, there has been horse racing in the public quite a lot. If nothing else, it's fairly uncomplicated to the observer (first one across the line wins) so it doesn't require an educated eye to know what is going on.

Locally, we have our own racetrack, though this is a little different sort of horse racing. The Kentucky Derby and the ilk of the aforementioned race scenarios are run on a flat track (lacking jumps which would make it a steeplechase) with horses ridden at the gallop. In harness racing, the horses are driven with the jockeys in a sulky (small carriage) and travel at either a trot or pace. Trot and pace are similar 2 beat gaits, the difference being that the trot is diagonal (opposite legs moving in unison) and the pace is lateral (legs on the same side moving in unison).

Enough of the vocabulary. The impetus behind this piece are the ones we don't see. For every horse that makes it to the track, there are a hundred more that don't. The odds of breeding, raising and training a horse to the point that it can race successfully are about as good as the odds that Matt Damon will drop everything, move to Maine, marry me and pay my mortgage.

Where do the horses go that either aren't fast enough, not hardy enough, or maybe were successful but are at the point of retirement? They have to go somewhere. Some, are good enough or have good enough blood lines to continue on as breeding stock. There are horses, specifically the geldings, that are not suitable for perpetuating the line. There are organizations devoted to finding homes for those horses. CANTER (www.canterusa.org) is one. Another one that has the best racehorse rescue organiation name ever, is Rerun (www.rerun.org). For the Standardbred horses, there is the Standardbred Pleasure HOrse Organization (www.sphomaine.net) or the American Standardbred Adoption Program (www.4thehorses.com) ASAP! Get it? That's a good one.

The Thoroughbreds looking for their next job have a bit of an advantage to the Standardbreds because they have already had a rider on their back and they have been trained to trot, canter and gallop under saddle. The Standardbred is adamantly discouraged from cantering or galloping in a race so it can take a little more time and knowledge on the riders part, to bring that gait out of the horse. However, the Standardbred does know how to pull a carriage so someone looking for a driving horse would be all set in that department.

Our own University of Maine has a program for retired Standardbred racehorses. Students in the program work with the horses to re-train them to be riding horses and then the horses are sold to suitable homes to live out the rest of their lives as companion or competition horses. The horses are donated to the school and then are either put into the re-training program or are selected as good candidates for breeding. The University owns one stallion and each year a few select mares are bred and the offspring sold as potential race horses.

If it weren't for these types of organizations and programs, those horse not fit for racing would face a very uncertain future and unfortunately, there aren't enough rescues to save every one. There are still hundreds of horses that end up at auctions or feed lots and not in caring homes. It's a sobering thought and, frankly, a depressing one too. Not every horse can be saved. Kudos to those that do take in an ex-racehorse or work with an organization that strives to find homes for them.

I'll Show You

We are having a horse show at my stable in a few weeks. And by we, I mean me. Thankfully, there are many of the stable patrons who help out with the thousands of tasks involved in running a horse show, without them there wouldn't be one. However, the whole thing was my idea and regardless of potential hindsight, I will go forward with the shebang.

The very best thing about running my own show, is that I get to make the rules. As much as possible, I try to stick to the standard horse show regulations and requirements. All the classes will come in the ring and go left then right. There will be a judge. English riders will have English clothes and tack, Western riders will have Western clothes and tack. The things that I can shake up a little are just some things which I feel ought to be allowed, or not allowed, at shows.

All of our riders will have helmets on. Yes, even the Western ones. Yes, even the little princess on a unicorn in the costume class. Even the showmanship handlers. Everyone. I, and my insurance company, feel that it is a small inconvenience to pay for your ability to walk and talk. No one will incur brain damage on my shift. I apologize if the rule infringes on your right to have neat hair and a coordinated outfit.

As for the tack, as specified, English riders have English stuff and Western riders have Western stuff. Jumping is considered an English class and horses should be tacked as such. You wouldn't think that would have to be mentioned, but not all of us are horse-show proficient. However, being just over the rebel line, I do allow snaffle bits on Western horses (regardless of age), hackamores in either discipline and flash nosebands on English horses. These rules came from trying to keep the welfare of the horse in mind. The flash noseband thing can go wrong though, if the noseband isn't adjusted properly or the rider has rough hands, but I'm taking a chance on that being a kinder gentler option to a strong bit. We'll see how that pans out.

We are offering four "jumping" classes. I am a firm believer that walk/trot riders should not be jumping so we have a ground poles class for them. All other jumping classes are for canter riders. For goodness sake, if a rider can't handle a horse in the canter then she certainly shouldn't be sailing through the air with one.

In addition to our rule deviations, we also step outside the box for leadline class. We have leadline classes for all ages. That means the cheruby 4 year olds can have their limelight as well as the boyfriends of some teenage girl riders or Moms & Dads even. It's a lot of fun and a chance for other family members to get off the bench.

Other than that, we offer standard horse show classes, Equitation, Pleasure, Showmanship, Costume, Road Hack and some more. Of course we have Road Hack! It's my favorite!

Horse shows give ribbons or rosettes for prizes and occasionally you get a trophy too. At our show, we give ribbons through sixth place (and if there are 7 or 8 riders in a class then we have "ties" for 6th place) and first place riders also get a small prize. My idea again. I'd rather have something useful that I could take home rather than a trophy so our first place finishers get brushes, trinkets, chocolate bars (yes, chocolate bars are Very useful), and other little items.

If only life were as easy as hosting a horse show. If I think tax forms should be different, I'd just make up my own. If the question on a test doesn't make sense to me, I'd write a new one. If the jeans are over-priced in the department store, I'd mark them down. Most importantly, chocolate bars would be the reward for every job well done.

Hands On Activity

Jolly reminded me tonight, of why it is always important to run your hands over your horse daily. Whether or not you ride or even groom your horse daily, a brief run down with the palms of your hands can give you a lot of information about that horse's condition. In the Winter time, I make it a habit to run my hands across my horses' barrels to check for weight loss which may not be visible under a heavy hair coat. However, that tactile inspection is just as important in the Summertime.

I took a few seconds tonight to run my hands over Jolly's coat and noticed he had finally decided it was a good idea to shed out the last of his Winter hair (Jolly is 31 years old and slowing down in a lot of aspects) so I got out his curry comb and tackled what was left of his shaggy-ness. As the hair flew (and dirt and dried sweat and dandruff) and I worked my way back to his hindquarters *queasiness alert - anyone with a low threshold for yucky stuff might want to skip ahead* I noticed a wretched smell and a rough patch at the top of his croup. Further inspection revealed an old bite wound that had scabbed over and underneath the scab was a congealed mess of puss. Ew.

It wasn't a big deal, I scrubbed it out, cleaned it up and dressed it with some ointment. It was relatively superficial so he will be just fine. It was a good reminder to not be in too much of a hurry when going through the motions of daily handling. I always do a visual once-over of each horse that I handle during the day, checking eyes, noses, legs, and general demeanor for any signs of trouble but it's the touch that tells so much more.

I did not see the goopy mess on Jolly's croup because it was above eye level, but also camouflaged under hair and dirt. To be all NCIS about it, it was the smell of the thing that I noticed first, but even without that, I would have found it with my fingers anyway. Grosser that way, but it would have happened.

Regardless of which of the senses discovers something amiss with your horse first, your fingers can be very forthcoming with needed information directly afterward. If you find a swollen leg, exploration via touch will give you vital information. Does the swelling "pit", or leave an indentation when you press into it? Is it cool or hot? Is there crust or peeling skin associated? Does the horse flinch to the touch? Is there a wound (possibly hidden under the hair and dirt and harboring some nasty goo)?

Your fingers will tell you the condition of a horse's skin and coat - is it greasy? Dry? Itchy? Rough? Sticky? If he has lumps and bumps on his skin - are they crusty? Symmetrical? Itchy? Smooth? Hot? Oozing? If your horse is lame, you can check for heat in the hoof or digital pulses. You fingers are needed to check the heart rate by timing the pulse in the jaw. You can press the horse's gums with your fingertips to get a capillary refill time. A horse's ears will very often be hot when it has a fever. If you are so inclined, you can check your horse's teeth to see if they are loose, have sharp edges or may in fact be missing. If you are not inclined, you can use your fingers to dial the phone and call the equine dentist.

Not only are your hands important diagnostic tools but they communicate information to the horse as well. From a touch, the horse can tell if you are timid, angry, excited or weary. Giving the horse a hearty scratch along the neck and over the withers is an excellent way to make friends or soothe an agitated horse. Pressure from our hands is way of asking the horse to move forward, backward, sideways, lift a leg or lower his head. If your horse does not respond to that pressure, you use your fingers to dial the phone and call the horse trainer. My number is in the book.

A Horse By Any Other Name

Fourteen is the age when I became a horse owner for the first time. Since then, I have owned 14 horses (I am now 37) but I have only had the opportunity to give a horse a name once. 13 horses all had names when I got them but Pooh Bear was purchased at an auction and he had no history, other than a quip from the family who owned him briefly beforehand, that went, "He don't want to lope too much." Before I even legally owned Pooh Bear, I had decided on his name and it turned out to suit him perfectly. He was orange-ish, and rather round in the middle which is why I thought of the name. He also lived up to the label by being really fond of eating and not so fond of doing anything physically demanding.

Some of my horses had names that they kept their whole lives and some had theirs changed before I got them. I never changed any of my horse's names other than to give a few of them a show name. Jolly showed as Just Like Eeyore, April is Wait A Minute, and Ivy was Little Lamzydivy. The other horses all had show names too. Except Gretchen. She was always just Gretchen. Like Madonna, she only needed one name.

All of those names came fairly easily to me and suited their horses perfectly. With the new horse, Dundee, I'm having a harder time coming up with a show name that suits him and maybe has something to do with his barn name.

During my first ride on Dundee, I was thinking about the potential he had and that he was a diamond in the rough so Rough Diamond came to me as a show name. Then, I remembered that there was a Breyer Horse called Rough Diamond and I didn't want to plagiarize. From the first time I heard the horse's name, Crocodile Dundee was there as a consideration. Not the most original name, but I did really like the movie (the first one) when it came out so maybe I could use it if nothing better comes along.

Continuing with the Hollywood theme, I have found myself calling him Dunder Mifflin as in the fictitious paper company used for the tv program "The Office". It's a good show, I like watching it, but I don't really know if I want to present my horse as an office supply store. That's almost as off-kilter as presenting him as a rugged Australian crocodile hunter.

Dundee is very low-key 90% of the time but has shown moments of hysteria. They are short-lived bursts of energy, but enough to keep him from being a complete couch-potato. He's an attractive horse, but not glamorous like Raffles. Dundee is like Robert Redford with just a touch of Rodney Dangerfield.

Even though he's named for a town in Scotland, Dundee is from Ireland, so I guess that makes him Gaelic not Celtic. Maybe there's fodder for a good name in the Gaelic language. However, there are also towns named Dundee in Florida, Oregon, Illinois and New York so I could use a name that references oranges, hazelnuts, deep-dish pizza or big apples.

There's no rule that a horse's barn name and show name have to have some sort of recognizable connection. For example, my Morgan colt was named Valleybrook's Mr. Showoff and called Norman. Dundee's show name does not have to correlate with his place of origin, his color, personality, history or even the letter D. It would be neat if his name did have some kind of relationship to him, but it's not required. Maybe, I could pick a random bunch of words and string them together and pretend it's some hipster kind of thing, so poetic that mainstream people won't get it.

In time, a good descriptive name will come to me. In the meantime, I will entertain any reader suggestions should you care to share them. Dundee is on the light side of chestnut with a small white star. He has a big head. He's a little tubby but has a nice tail. He has a cowlick in his mane and it's white. He's a good, but not great, mover and jumps nicely (so far - has only longed over crossrails). He is bossy with the other geldings and has the scars to prove it. He originally came from Ireland, but I got him from Massachusetts. He's lazy-ish but has a spook too. That's about all I know about him so far. After this week, when I have some lessons on him with my trainer, I'll know him quite a bit better.

Meanwhile, he will be just Dundee. Oh! Wait! I think there's something in that... like, a play on "just dandy"... Hmmm.... That could work. I'll let you know.

Pogo Sticks, Egg Beaters and Doing Your Nails

When I wrote the last post about playing with Breyer horses, I remember how one of the most important criteria for whether or not a model horse got a lot of play time, was how well it could "canter". If the horse had the right configuration it could easily be held and rocked from hind legs to front legs as it cantered across the floor. Ginger, from the Black Beauty set, was probably the all time best cantering Breyer horse.

Raffles is my Ginger. He has a super easy canter that can collect and lengthen and is easy to sit. He has a big stride but it is effortless. He doesn't lurch. Ivy had a lovely canter also. One lady who rode her in lessons said "You could ride Ivy's canter and do your nails at the same time.". Ivy and I cantered almost every where we went in our younger days. While Raffles and Ivy are both good cantering horses, of the two, Ivy was definitely the faster one. She could gallop! She'd stretch out and get real low to the ground (at 14.2, she didn't have far to go) and tear across the fields or down the dirt roads with very little urging on my part. Raffles likes to think he's fast, but he's too chicken to go full out. In order to get him to gallop, I have to have someone riding in front of him so that he has someone to follow. He'll go just as fast as the other horse, but no faster. Ivy would get in front in stay there.

I've always loved to canter. In photos of my early riding lessons, there are pictures of me cantering around with my toes turned right out, like wings, on the wrong lead but with a giant grin plastered on my face. Years later, after riding hundreds of horses at the canter, it's still fun. What's even more fun than an all out gallop, is that moment when a green horse finds its balance and canters easily under saddle for the first time. The initial canter attempts are not for the faint of heart. There is little steering, lots of leaning around turns and not a lot of speed control. It's just a process though, and with patience and guidance, the green horses get the idea very quickly.

Riding Image yesterday, I had one of those moments when he got it, and the canter was balanced. He had self-carriage and I had steering and speed control. Moments like that are what I strive for and to get one is always an affirmation of the worth of Dressage training. Normally, Image canters like a runaway Greyhound bus. Not because he wants to, but just because he is big so he has miles of legs to organize, and he's a little goofy. During his ride yesterday, when I was actually trying to get something else, I got collected canter. It was lovely, easy and light and controllable. I don't know that I could have done my nails, but it was certainly a nice ride.

Earlier in the day, I had ridden Alex. Alex is much greener than Image and much less athletically gifted. When Alex canters, it's like riding a pogo stick down a steep hill. Alex is built a little downhill so it is harder work for him to have a balanced canter. He's trying and getting better, but anyone trying to do their nails is going to need buckets of nail polish remover.

Another horse I've been working with has a terrible time organizing herself into the canter. Venus is an ex-harness racer who was a pacer. She now has a beautiful trot but has not been able to do a true, 3-beat continuous canter under saddle or on the longe line. It is absolutely a complete myth that Standardbreds can not canter. All of the other Standardbreds I have ever ridden have cantered quite nicely. Standardbreds are not genetically inclined to have a good quality canter, but they are capable. Except Venus. She has cantered nicely in the paddock so I know it is possible for her, but after several years of work, she has yet to canter more than 5 strides in a row under saddle. And that was only once that she got 5. She has 4th level Dressage trot work, but does not have a canter. Or at least, not a recognizable one. She thinks she is cantering and she thinks she is doing a terrific job of it. She expresses absolute joy and satisfaction with her performance. "Look how well I am cantering!", she says as she flies like a manic eggbeater around the ring. Her front legs are cantering. The hind legs are doing their own thing. They aren't even both doing the same thing. Sometimes, her hind legs are pacing or trotting, but most often, one leg is going like a piston while the other leg occasionally gets left behind and hangs in mid-air for an extra stride. It's completely ridiculous to watch but the feeling of earnest concentration she exhibits makes it (almost) impossible to laugh at her.

Venus has been able to gallop successfully, but I have not been able to help her organize herself for a canter. I have tried every method and combination of aids to try and help her, but she still goes skipping and churning and being fantastically proud of herself. "My goodness,", she snorts after cantering practice, "that was quite a good job wasn't it? I went very fast and did not fall over or anything! I'm pretty sure that was my best job yet."

Venus may never find a true canter but she is loved by her person just the same. Not every horse will have a nail-doing canter just as not every person can be a champion gymnast or a brilliant artist or a perfect-pitch singer. But we are all loved just the same.

It All Started With One Palomino

Even as a child, I was obsessed with horses. My bookshelf was filled with Marguerite Henry, Walter Farley and other horsey authors. My bed was buried beneath plush ponies, and my toy box (when I actually put toys in it) contained my collections of small plastic horses, medium sized flocked toy horses, Barbie's big horses, a green truck and horse trailer, and My Little Ponies among other things. The gigantic dollhouse my grandmother made for me became a stable at one point. There was an almost Shetland Pony sized ride-on plastic horse (named Ginger) in my room. Even stuff that wasn't a horse, became a horse once I got my hands on it. The marbles that I played with at the neighbor's house became a herd of wild horses and my bike was a horse. When I wasn't playing with horses, I was being a horse, and would trot around tossing my mane, whinnying and snorting.

On one birthday, my cake topper was a palomino rearing horse, my first Breyer horse. This palomino quickly became a favorite due to his life-likeness but his rearing stance made him difficult to play with. If he was tipped on to all fours, he did make a plausible race horse but the fragility of the angle of his legs caused him to have an early retirement and even the application of prosthetics. That little horse was the start of a collection, a portion of which I still own.

The Palomino was soon followed by a trio that I got for Christmas one year. There was a Clydesdale Stallion, a bay mare and a Shetland Pony. The three bays were deemed a family, even though I knew at that early age that ponies were not babies (but one can pretend) and were dubbed Prince, Lightning and Sugar. Each of them came in a cardboard box and inside the box was a fold-out pamphlet with pictures of all of the available Breyer horses. I was immediately hooked and pored over those pamphlets for hours.

My neighbor got some Breyer horses as gifts too, so I would go to her house with my little herd and we could play all day in the hallway upstairs in her house or in her living room on the braided rug. The braided rug made an excellent race track but it was hard to get the horses to stand up when they weren't racing. The hallway was unfinished plywood so it was better for keeping the herd on their feet and had great acoustics for the plastic-y hoof beats.

As my collection grew, I had to move up to carrying them to the neighbor's house in a laundry basket. I'd lug my horses, all tumbled together, across the yards to play. Our play horses most often became wild horses or domestic horses that escaped to become wild. We divided them up into families and each of the horses had a name and personality. Soon, my cousin got involved with Breyer horses and then the two of us spent almost every moment together playing with them. At sleepovers we'd play until my Dad would finally bang on the door and growl "Stop clomping those horses and go to bed!"

Clomp them, we certainly did. They raced and fought, escaped from barns and wild horse hunters with helicopters, and had grand adventures. Not without some casualties though. There were occasional broken legs with different versions of repair (everything from Scotch tape, to Super-Glue) a few broken ear tips and tails, but most of the damage came from rubs. The paint on the horses rubbed off on prominent places and the white plastic showed through. The rubbing occurred from the clashes of fighting, and travel damage (laundry baskets have no airbags) and hoof wear and tear from so much galloping and clomping.

As I got older and became responsible for buying my own additions to the collection, I also became more conscious of the care of the horses. When traveling, they were now wrapped in clothes in my suitcase or laundry basket to protect them slightly. They no longer fought with such vigor or raced with such abandon. I experimented with making tack to domesticate them more and with repainting battle-scarred horses. The collecting became more of the thrill than the play. I still named each and every horse and categorized them by breeds, colors, families, sizes, and alphabetically by name. The names became more glamorous and the horses each had "show names" and "barn names". Prince, Lightning and Sugar gave way to Springfield Fox (Foxy), PK Paco Boy (Paco) and Whispering Pines' Tipperary (Tippy). Some of the names were in jest (Zip It Kid and Little Brown Colt), some were named after real horses I knew (Impressive Chief, Tapeka), people I thought worthy (Andy's Birthday Girl, Justa Summer Squash) or in honor of fun events or special occasions (GP Says Sell It, Rum Tum Tugger) and then there were the ones I got as Christmas gifts that I gave holiday themed names (Yukon Cornelius, Stocking Stuffer, Christmas Fawn, Little St. Nick, Blitzen, Gabriel, King Wencelus...). Another good friend, who also collected Breyer horses, would even let me name some of hers.

Naming them became half the thrill of the collecting and I began keeping a notebook of potential names. To keep myself awake during class in school or long drives, I would either come up with new names or try to list all of my horses. As I approached the triple digit numbers for the herd, that became quite a feat. Soon, I had to resort to tags to keep all of their names straight. The ones that were major characters (Mikal Midnight, Lady Phase, Little Gal...) during play were never forgotten, but some of the newer ones that I acquired during adulthood and spent their days on the shelf, I was a bit fuzzy on. Shamefully, I would have to peek at their hang tags when I couldn't recall the name.

During my childhood, some of those horses seemed as real to me as any flesh and blood horse. I could see them cantering across a meadow, walking about with the wind in their manes, mares patiently watching the colts and fillies play, and I could swear that their black-painted eyes twinkled with life. For a while I was satisfied with the collecting. My motto was "It's not a matter of having too many horses, it's a matter of not having enough shelves." Then there came a shift, as it states in a diary I kept at about 5th grade, "I would trade all of my Breyer horses for one real horse!". Now, I have a stable full of real horses and my poor neglected Breyer horses, what is left of more than 300 models at one time, sit on their shelves gathering dust. Every once in a while, I take them down and dust them off and rearrange them (so they get to have new neighbors) but mostly they just stand as reminders of a time when possibilities were endless and I was only limited by imagination.

My notebook of horse names still exists, I have about 100 Breyer horses left after giving some away and selling others, but my days of clomping horses around on the floor are long gone. Now I spend my days with my real horses trying to teach them how to not clomp around, fight or race. My real horses are messier, more expensive, and much more trouble than my plastic herd. There is no way, however, that I would ever trade my real horses for 1, or 300, or all of the Breyer horses in the world.