On a balmy fall afternoon back before the turn of the century, in 1999 to be specific, Vanessa and I stood at a paddock and looked at Kovat, our magnificent purebred Arabian stallion. He was snorting and prancing as usual. I gave a nod of agreement when Vanessa commented that life on our farm wouldn’t be as exciting without a stallion.

We watched him proudly patrol his fence line. There were other stallions here in the past, but Kovat held this position of importance in largess since 1991, when he came to our farm in his prime, fully trained. Over the years, he sired many of our great endurance stock. When Van lamented that "the boy" was getting into his 20s, I reminded her that we are getting into our late 40s.

As we walked around checking fence, Vanessa started talking. "With all I’ve learned over the years, I think it would be fun to raise a stallion from the ground up," she said. "We’re not that old — and if we want to take a stallion into our retirement, there are some decisions we need to make sooner rather than later."

Arabian stallions can live into their 30s, but I couldn’t have agreed more. Raising a colt, we could define his temperament and breeding manners. With the right lines, we could get even tempered, sound trail horses. "If we want to continue to have a breeding program into our retirement years, then we need to look seriously at Kovat’s future," I concluded.

A New Colt
Over the next couple of years, Vanessa spent a lot of time on the Internet. She explored possible retirement homes for Kovat and endlessly researched pedigrees. As winter of 2001 approached, the e-mails and phone calls started. Their volume intensified as Van narrowed down prospects and found the best situation for our retiring stallion. She also found a colt. By the first of the year, Kovat would abdicate his throne, leave our farm, and take up residence at his new home, a ranch on the West Coast.

Both of us were anxious, but the plan came together. Within days of Kovat’s departure, the new colt stepped off the trailer from Oklahoma. His name: PassU. He came with a straight Russian pedigree and sported a baby-blue halter with an engraved nameplate. Keep in mind that Vanessa bought our new stallion-to-be from a picture, a pedigree, and on the good reputation of the breeder.

We were not disappointed. He was handsome — and big. We looked at the colt and envisioned that he’d mature into a flea-bitten gray and one day grow into his own. We found PassU to be polite, social with other horses, and friendly with people. His temperament couldn’t have been better. He was easy to handle. This was a horse we’d enjoy raising.

Building a Bond
In spring, and for the next two years, PassU was placed in the pasture with our group of 3-year-old geldings that kept Beene active while he recovered from ringbone. From a distance, we had a hard time differentiating him in the group. As a yearling, PassU was the same size as the 3-year-olds and basically the same dark color as BeBop.

During this time, we worked with him on manners and trail-horse skills. Vanessa taught him to high-tie, be a gentleman in the company of other horses, and to stand for shoeing. We tacked him periodically and taught him how to back up.

PassU responded well to training, but had one issue: He was spatially challenged. That is, he seemed to think he was smaller that he actually was.

Our young stallion had no fear of narrow spaces and would actually enter a barn through the human door. We gave him the barn name "Baby Huey." Little did we know that PassU’s trust of people and the ground work he learned would give him the tools he needed to overcome a perilous situation that awaited him in his future.

Training continued at our farm into his fourth year, when we felt it was the summer to take him to the next level. PassU was ready to begin trail riding. We wanted him to be able to be ridden confidently with other horses on trail, particularly mares.

We have a trainer nearby, Rick, who has a nice facility that’s set up for stallions. He’s also familiar with endurance-riding practices. Given the fact that we gave PassU early saddle experience, the first session went very well.

After a month at this facility, we watched in delight as a young Amish lad skillfully rode PassU around in a large indoor arena. Rick suggested that they were ready for the trail.

‘An Incident’
Things were going well, so we authorized another month of training to follow through with our trail plan. Two weeks later, we received the "dreaded phone call"; our trainer called to report an incident.

Rick and the Amish boy had been trail riding on a regular schedule. The day of the ordeal, the trainer, aboard a mare and the boy, aboard PassU, were walking down a laneway toward the trails. A group of in-heat mares galloped to the electric fence line to introduce themselves to our young stallion.

Rick commanded the boy to get after PassU and move forward. The stallion mistook the boy’s cuing and backed into the electric fencing on the other side of the laneway. Bzzzt!

PassU spun and bolted back toward the barn minus the young Amish rider.

When they got back, the stallion was standing in the center of the arena in the 100-degree heat, waiting for guidance. Rick saw that the horse didn’t seem to be traumatized by the encounter with the fence, so he decided to put him on a longe line to make sure he wasn’t injured.

That’s when PassU did something totally out of character. Before the line was firmly in Rick’s hand, the horse bolted to the end of the barn, which was stacked to the rafters 60-feet deep with fresh hay. The horse, fully tacked with 20 feet of longe line chasing him, vanished from sight.

Wide-eyed, Rick assessed the situation. Our spatially challenged 4-year-old had run headlong into the bale-width air space at the edge of the haystack. Rick found the stallion, sweating but calm, 50 feet back, solidly wedged between the hay and the wall. To free him, they’d first need to remove the full-skirted Western saddle.

The young boy also recognized the severity of the situation. Small-statured, he volunteered to be lowered by his feet into the space and unbuckle the cinch. He moved slowly, while speaking calmly to reassure PassU. The stallion, trusting his rider, didn’t move. He permitted the boy to lift the saddle in a way it had never been done before.

That done, the boy climbed down the haystack to the horse, snapped a lead rope on the bridle, and gave the command, "Back, back, back, PassU, back!"

PassU recognized the command and started to shimmy his way in reverse toward the entrance to the hay crevasse. It took some time, but little by little, PassU worked himself out of his tight situation.

A Display of Trust
Rick told us that he was amazed by the trust PassU displayed for humans. The stallion escaped relatively unscathed with minor injuries. His side had brush burns from the hay. He also received rope burns on his pasterns as he backed against the longe line while exiting his tight quarters. But he wasn’t lame; Rick was able to ride him the following day.

On the surface, credit must be given to the trainer and the young rider for safely extricating our horse from the hay. Our training and ground work that developed the stallion’s trust in people was undoubtedly another factor. Vanessa also believes that the even temperament she found in PassU’s lineage came out in the horse’s reaction to the crisis situation.

When we tell this amazing story around the campfire, one word is always repeated by our fellow trail riders: "luck." In any analysis, our boy survived, and for that we’re thankful.

PassU, like all our horses, came into our lives for a reason. Vanessa and I enjoy the time we spent together training him and reinforcing his respect and trust for people. The hay incident taught us the value of time we invested working with him.

PassU makes us look into our future as our retirement years approach. Now, as a coming 6-year-old, he’s no longer a "Baby Huey." He’s our well-bred, dependable stallion who’s easy to handle, fun to ride, and enjoyable to breed.

Besides, there’s something about raising a stallion that keeps Vanessa and me feeling young.