My life has been rich with great souls.
AM Indraff was the only one who was a white stallion, and a champion to me. Thank you for teaching me about patience, and trust and friendship. To let go of what we know, and let another tell us their story from the heart.
Bazy Tankersley was one of the world’s foremost breeders of Arabian horses and in her lifetime she owned twenty five hundred registered Arabian horses. Her legacy, Al-Marah Arabians, has produced many National Champions in our time, and contributed greatly to the advancement of the breed.
In 1979 I joined Al-Marah’s apprentice program in Tucson, Arizona. I went there to become a breeder of fine horses after years of raising horses in Missouri.
Every day was an adventure. At that time Mrs. T owned 450 Arabs, 150 of which were in our care at the Al-Marah facility in Tucson. Anything could happen, and often did with that many horses to look after. There was an operating room on the premises, a stud barn, and a video monitored birthing barn. I lived in the stud barn…
Apprentices were given a 2 year old to break and train for the show ring.
I had never been on a well trained horse until Al-Marah. I had gone there to become a breeder in the Al-Marah tradition. My first experience there in the saddle was on Al-Marah Indraff, a retired National Champion, now in his twenties. He taught me about grace, patience, and dignity in ways I had never experienced before. Head Trainer Harold Brite had put me up to that, and Bazy said I had good hands.
On Sundays we would finish our chores of mucking stalls and walking the horses and be ready for an adventure. I often drove up the Santa Catalinas to a bluff that overlooked the valley below. But on this day, five of us decided to go riding in the desert. In the shadow of the Catalinas there were many sand washes that remained after rains. The soft, sandy ground was a pleasant change of pace for the horses and promised shade from the surrounding trees.
Up north near Flagstaff, Al-Marah has The Hat Ranch. Yearlings and two year olds grow up there in a herd environment, and learn good horse manners. Normally stallions don’t do well together. Two of them together can turn into dynamite very quickly. Because they are always competing with one another, you have to be very much in charge to have two stallions together. I’ve been within inches of flying hooves in that situation before. Al-Marah stallions were so comfortable and socialized that the question of explosiveness didn’t enter into it.
We gathered five stallions to go riding.
As other breeders moved farther into Polish and Egyptian bloodlines their horses took on a more chiseled and delicate appearance. But the Al-Marah Arabs were very capable athletes. Some were National Champion Cutting Horses and long distance Champions. They were typically not as tall in the withers, but with strong bones and definition. They were a joy to work with.
The Arab horse is smart and personable. After many years of living in close company with people, even spending the nights in tents in the deserts, as a breed they are well-adjusted companions and lifelong friends.
The Tucson sand is bright with mica beneath the mesquite trees. Cottonwoods grow where willows and sycamores would elsewhere, where there was water year round. There are snakes, but they are hiding by day from the intense sun. Saquaro cactus grow tall slowly to become the gentle giants of the desert.
We bridled and saddled the boys and walked out of the compound to a nearby wash. My companion for the day was AM Indraff again. He had a lot more saddle time than I had, and could be trusted not to bolt.
Stallions are very muscular, with a neck like an oak, and a chest like a barrel. They are the can-do kids of horses. We started out in single file but bunched up in pairs where the arroyos were wide enough to permit it. The mesquite branches were a yellow green in the afternoon light. It was a pleasant stroll and the horses were constantly alert for what might happen next. Outside of their routine, everything is exciting. You know what a stallion is thinking by watching his ears.
After a while a horse wants to go to it, to get with it, to run. At first it was a trot —in western tack it takes a well contained horse to trot smoothly; all of them were smooth as silk. And then we broke into a canter and then into a lope. But when we started to run, it was as much fun as I have ever had.
I was bringing up the rear, and no one wants to be left behind. He was good to go, and off we went. Eventually you could only hear the horses ahead of you, not see them, following the tracks round trees, under branches, over downed limbs. It was for me a release to the horse, a total trust, and all I had to do was hang on. Everyone had a good run, the soft sand was kind to their legs and joints, and the day-in day-out routine of stalls and pens was soundly broken.
AM Indraff took care of me the whole way— as if to say, “That’s alright kid, I’ve got this”.
I’ve known great souls my whole life.
AM Indraff was the only one who was a white stallion, and a champion to me. Thank you for that wonderful memory. For teaching me about patience, and trust and friendship. To let go of what we know and let another tell us their story from the heart.
Some are born for greatness. AM Indraff was a National Champion, and made Bazy proud. And he made me a hero for a day.
Thank you for a memory for my lifetime.
شُرْب نَخْب
