Ignorance is Bliss
One Man's Quest to Survive on a Holsteiner Breeding Farm
very successful Holsteiner stallion station and breeding farm in Washington called Fox Fire Farm. All stallions were imported directly from the Holsteiner Verband. The mares have been imported from Holstein or bred here from Holstein stock. At the time, it sounded exotic and impressive to me, but what did I know? Karen and I were salt and pepper. I’ve had a good career designing ships. My only horse experience had been riding trails on Quarter Horses on the flanks of the Blue Mountains in eastern Washington until we moved west when I was in the fourth grade. I went from horses to boats almost overnight. The boat bug stuck with me for too many years to count. One night, sadly, Karen called with tragic news. Her
K
beloved stallion was dead. She was very deep in grief and I feared the worst. Barely knowing where she lived, I raced like a maniac, beating all speed records, to come to her aid. When I awoke the next morning, I was still at the farm and on the couch. As I looked around, I suddenly realized that I was at the bottom of a deep sink hole, the size of Indiana, right in the middle of a very serious breeding farm. I was totally out of my comfort zone.
Learning Curves We became a team after that night, but I had a lot to learn. I could tack up an aged Quarter Horse and ride all day, but this was very different. The stallions were huge. The mares were huge. They were gentle and kind, however I fell into a false sense of security that bordered on insanity. Looking back, forever in my memory is the day I came home from my day job, grabbed a nice glass of wine and went out to find Karen putting the stallions into their stalls for the night. I, with glass in hand, happily walked out and followed right behind the stallion Karen was leading. The next moment was a blur, but I caught a glimpse of a shiny metal horse shoe coming straight at my crotch. I landed ten feet back on my
80 January/February 2012
aren and I had been strictly phone friends for nearly two years. Karen created, by herself, a
butt, glass still in hand, but the wine had vaporized. I feared the
worst. Fortunately, the frog on that hind foot had been cleaned and I ended up with only a perfect bruise of a horse shoe surrounding vital parts. That pair of khakis was never the same. A friend at my day job has often remarked to Karen,
“Mike needs to wear full body armor when out of the house on the farm.” I couldn’t imagine why, until one day we were trying to load a yearling filly into a trailer. No one warned me about cow kicking. The yearling momentarily got loose so I blissfully went to pick up her lead line. That girl was like lightning with a kick that made my front tooth launch itself like a space shuttle at mach 80 from my jaw! I gratefully found the tooth and put it in my shirt pocket vowing to go to the dentist as we loaded the horse. The next day I went to the dentist, but I couldn’t find the darned tooth. It showed up in the dryer a few days later. It’s a good thing; the new tooth is much nicer. ** smile** My next test was trying to learn how to trot our cheeky
favorite stallion, Linaro, in hand in the arena. We’ve got clients looking at the boys and once again my job is to show off his “stuff.” Holy cow, this boy can move!! I’m pretty athletic, I was thinking, but this is something else. Little do I know that Linaro will do an extended trot in a heartbeat. I finally figured out from Karen’s guidance to stay at his shoulder, with right hand up and extended in the German
By Mike Campbell
Mike and Quinar
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