A Horse Called Justin Morgan

There are some stories that echo faintly in my memory, bound by a fragment to childhood's past. Have you ever seen the film called "Justin Morgan Had A Horse"? I watched this when I was a young child in primary school. I remember sitting on a cold hard school hall floor and watching mesmerised as the screen flickered out a beautiful story of a man and his horse, bound in previous time and circumstance. It was the eighteenth century in Vermont, the United States of America and a young colt and another horse were accepted by a school teacher as a trade to repay a debt. Perhaps the man who gave the horse up may have thought the colt was worthless as he was so much smaller than was the norm. The school teacher, Justin Morgan tried to sell his new horse on the way back to Vermont, but could not find a buyer. Justin Morgan later saw something in the horse that stood out for him, some quality that others overlooked. The horse may have been small, but he was compact and strong and beautiful. Justin called him Figure. Later the horse came to be known as "Justin Morgan", named after his first owner. History says Figure had many owners during his lifetime, often each seeing a different use in Figure. He was a versatile horse, able to run or jump or pull. This little horse went on to become the founder of a new breed of horses, the Morgan horse. It seemed that no matter which horse Figure was sired to, big workhorses or smaller racehorses horses, their offspring inherited Figure's stature and wonderful nature.

I love the Morgan horse. They stand proud with ears erect, a distinguished yet kind air, an almost elusive quality. They seem sturdy, compact and muscled, power like a coiled spring, their strong rear legs thrust backwards, front legs straight down to the ground, a flowing mane and tail, loveable, gentle, willing, wanting to work for man. I read of the Morgan's rise through history, and it seems to me America was founded by the grit and toil of these small workhorses. I imagine man and horse as one, riding like the wind, communicating by silent signals of muscles clenched and shifting in the saddle, galloping on, freedom in flight. Figure spent his life racing, pulling, sweating, working day after day without complaint. Would history have looked different without the Morgan horse? Figure also lived longer than most horses of his day and died at the age of 32 when he received an injury to his flank from the kick of another horse.

I believe we should honour the life of horses that have spent their lives toiling for man, whether they be racehorses, showjumpers, workhorses. They have given so much to us without complaint, they deserve a time of rest in their later years. I recently saw the picture of a retired racehorse, head drooping, hair draped over a framework of visible bones. He was ailing in a field with lack of grazing and was rescued at the point of starvation and dehydration, fed and gently nursed back to life. The horse went went from 600kg to 800kg and is now in good health, he won an award for horse of the year, and is providing his love and occasional riding to a new owner who is honouring him for his life. Look after our animal companions, treat them with dignity, thank them for their contribution. Where would mankind be without them?