Big Red was a copper colored gelding horse. His long mane and tail were reddish blond, and his reddish summer coat was shiny with short hair. This made his veins show through especially when he was drenched with sweat from anxiety or exercise. He was tall with a small head and foxy ears. He wore a white spot on his forehead, had long slender legs and a big chest. His large nostrils flared like an Arab horse. He was not mean and did not bite or kick, but he would not let anyone ride him. That is why so many owners traded or sold him. His tricks to get the rider off included running away and prancing high enough to get you tired of bouncing on his back. Red threw his head so high he would smack your nose with the back of his head. His most dangerous trick was rearing up on his hind legs threatening to fall over backwards on you. When my neighbor complained about Big Red, I offered to show him what a good trainer like me could do with a horse like that. Of course nobody knew how inexperienced I was about horses. My neighbor let me lead the horse to my home. It looked to me like Big Red was a spoiled race horse. He would be my first horse to train.
Big Red had a curb bit in his mouth with a long shank that put a lot of leverage on his mouth and lower jaw. My first ride on him was bareback, and I used his bridle with the painful curb bit he was accustomed to. The pasture behind my house was 600 feet deep and wide, and it sloped down from my house to a rusty barbed wire fence held up by broken posts. As we pranced around my back pasture Red kept lunging forward trying to run. I sawed back on the reins each time he lunged forward. After a few hundred yards of fighting the bit, he reared up and stood on his hind legs. This scared me. I thought he would rear over backwards and crush me with his thousand pounds. I let the reins loose and hugged his neck to keep myself from sliding back as he held himself balancing in the air on two hind legs. He reared up several times. Finally he came down and tried to run forward. I was able to slow him to a high prancing gait dodging as he tossed his head past my shoulders. When we got back around close to the house where we had started, he walked under the branches of a tree and reared again. Our heads were touching the leaves and small branches on the tree. Again I let go of the reins and hugged Red's neck. He stayed on his hind legs balancing and almost fell over backwards. I was very frightened. When he finally came down to all fours, I dismounted. The horse and I were dripping wet with perspiration, not from the warm day but from pure fear. We were both scared.
I decided it would be a good challenge for me to try to cure Big Red, so I bought him. I asked for advice from a wonderful Native American neighbor, a well known horse trainer and a judge. Later in his life his wife Pat helped him direct horse shows where he also served as a horse shoe maker. Tommy Ramoss had worked as a cowboy at the Rancho Santa Marguerita ranch later known as Camp Pendelton Marine Base near Oceanside. He trained in the old Spanish style using a Mexican halter called a bozal to train beginning horses. Gradually he taught his horses to accept harsh bits until a finished horse wore a spade bit sharp enough to cut a horse tongue and make his mouth bleed. Tom was a gentle man who did not hurt his horses, and his finished horses performed with imperceptible pressure on the reins. Tom was quite active in several horse clubs like the Palomar Riders Club. Every year he guided riders from Vista to Palomar Mountain and back. He led the riders through Indian land. They let him trespass with everyone because he was from an Indian tribe. Tom was a horse shoer and a judge at many horse show competitions. I asked Tom Ramoss what I should do to train Big Red. Tom said, "Sell him. He is spoiled, and you will never be safe riding him. He's not worth foolin' with."
I was grateful for Tom's good advice but too ignorant to admit I had made a mistake buying Red. I spent my spare time thinking up ideas of how to handle the horse. I reasoned that the horse did not like the bit, and I tried riding him using a loose halter without reins. Red was so high headed it was easy to hold the top of the halter instead of reins. With my hand on the back of his head, I was able to keep him from breaking my nose. Sometimes he threw his head back past my shoulder as I moved my head off to the side. Once I forgot to dodge and his head smashed me on my forehead splitting the skin open and causing blood to streak down my face. My wife drove me to Tri City Hospital where a doctor sewed me up and treated the wound.
Anyway, Red must have liked me using the halter. He stopped rearing. But, he wouldn't stop prancing and trying to run all the time. I took him out and rode him many hours trying to tire him out, but he would never give up. We covered all the country roads within several miles of our small ranch. Once I got mad at him and let him run in a big plowed field until he was panting. Then I stopped him to let him catch his breath. When I signaled and asked him to walk he went right back to prancing and trying to take off. I let him run again several times stopping to rest and trying to get him to walk, but he wouldn't. Finally I rode him so hard he collapsed and passed out stumbling and falling on his right side. His tongue hung out the side of his mouth in the dirt, his eyes looked dazed, and a pink membrane covered his eyes. I thought he was dying. I jerked off his riding pad and kicked him on his butt while shouting to make him wake up and stand.
After a short while Big Red regained consciousness and stood up. I led him around, and he was a little wobbly at first. Then, when he seemed fully recovered, I cinched up the riding pad and climbed on his back. I used a riding pad because I was not skilled enough to use a saddle. When I asked him to walk this time, he started right off prancing again.
I was not happy about the results of the day. I felt guilty of almost killing my horse. That night I lay awake hoping the Lord would give me an answer or idea. A thought came to me. Maybe Red would walk better in the dark. At night he might be smart enough not to run. The next night I woke at midnight and rode Big Red in the dark. He walked pretty good, and we rode by the stream and over the hills behind my house. It was so dark I couldn't see the ground, and I trusted the horse to find his way. I let loose of the halter and he dropped his head to smell the trail. I guided him by leaning to the left or right. He stopped when I leaned back and said, "Whoa." We walked in the hills for several miles and spent about two hours out back in the black that night.
The next day I bought a Mexican bozel halter and wrapped a soft rope around the part that fits over and behind the horse's nose. I used a soft, strong rope to make reins and fitted the thing on Big Red. I rode him, and he tolerated the contraption much better than a bit in his mouth, but he seemed to prefer when I just used a rope halter. When I rode him in the daylight he continued to rush all the time and to prance. People commented on the beautiful parade horse as I rode him walking sideways down the country roads in my neighborhood. He walked sideways which was very pretty, but the constant jig jogging tired me out and made him perspire too much.
One night I took off on Red about ten o'clock. I decided to try him in traffic. We lived three miles from downtown Vista. We walked on dark country roads to downtown and stood on a sidewalk by the Avo Movie Theater. We watched the owner climb a ladder and change the sign on the marquis. My horse didn't seem to mind the sparse 1972 traffic. We circled the downtown area and rode back home on a busier street. It was a nice adventurous night-ride, and Red behaved very well on the streets.
Later in Red's training he learned to do some Gymkhana racing including running the barrels, pole bending, and other games. Once I raced a girl named Lisa Light who rode the fastest quarter-horse in town. We raced a quarter of a mile twice. She won the first race and Big Red won the second race. Lisa's gray Quarter Horse, Blue Hondo, had been trained by Tom Ramoss. When Lisa was little she played hide and seek with the horse. When she was in her teens she won all the trophies she wanted at local horse shows. Blue Hondo could walk faster, trot faster, and run faster than any other horse I saw in those days. So, I was proud to have Big Red do so well racing Blue Hondo. Several years later I bought Blue Hondo from Lisa who had married and moved to Cypress near Anaheim.
Once I put my bathing suit on and rode Red bareback using only a halter without reins to control him. We went over the deserted hill behind my five acre ranch to King's lake. King's Lake is a two acre private pond with no houses on the property. A dead tree had a large branch with a rope hanging out over the water. On hot days my four children used the rope to swing out and drop into the cool water. Red walked right into the water. I was pleased he did not need to be coaxed. With other horses, especially Arabians, I have spent many hours teaching them to cross water. Big Red was not thrilled to enter the water, but he went in without fussing. He swam around while I held to his mane and floated at his side. It was a hot day and we enjoyed the cool water.
I built a high jump and we practiced jumping over it riding bareback. Big Red learned to jump higher than four feet. I stopped having him jump because the ground was too hard, and I didn't want him to hurt his legs. Once while riding on the San Luis Rey River bed about midnight, it was not easy for me to see. Big Red was walking along on the dry sand where it was very dark. Suddenly, he stopped. I got off and felt a barbed wire fence blocking our path. Big Red was calm and took the experience in stride. We found our way safely around the barbed wire and continued riding to San Luis Rey Downs in Bonsall before returning home.
After working with Red for five or six years he finally consented to walk without prancing when I asked provided he was in the right mood. I trained other horses. My wife and kids felt safe riding Big Red. He was calmer with them than with me. He was no longer a big challenge for me, so I sold him to a rancher who raised cattle. Big Red had given me so many adventurous rides, I almost felt guilty about giving him up. But I've owned and trained many good horses. I couldn't keep them all. I even owned, retrained, and rode Blue Hondo and rode him in competition for a couple of years. We won some nice trophies. A feature story with a photo showing us barrel racing was printed in the Vista Press. But that's another story.