Meridian Meadows Stories, by Dave Jones

Memories From "The Meadows"
Part Six of A Series
By Dave Jones, Monticello, Florida
Credit: Paso Fino Horse World March 1997

Meridian Meadows, Colin Phipps' farm in Tallahassee, Florida, was named after the road which fronts it on the northern edge of that State Capital. It's stable name, "Que Tal," tacked onto the end of all Meridian Meadows' bred horses is sort of a Spanish "howdy", but to us it meant "from Tallahassee." Pretty clever, and still a name well respected in the Paso Fino breed. That had been our goal all along, and in the five years or so we worked together, we produced many fine specimens who continue to prove our efforts with their own get.

Meridian Meadows still exists today, although not as a Paso Fino breeding farm. Colin moved on to other interests and I moved a little east of Tallahassee, to Monticello, where my wife Mac and I own and operate a saddlery and training stable. Although I no longer work exclusively with Pasos, they remain one of my favorite breeds and I retain many fond memories of the time spent with them. Thus, a few more short stories of my adventures at "The Meadows."

A Paso What?
Many people who visited us asked the question, What are they good for? They wondered why we went to all the trouble to import horses. I learned easy answers to this question as I handled the horses.

From the time of the Spanish Conquistadors, these hardy horses have primarily been used for quick, comfortable transportation. They're as sure-footed as a horse can be, from centuries of use in the Colombian mountains. Tough and graceful, they fill a definite need for trail riding, pleasure horses, plantation horses, and cow ponies. When I was working as a cowboy, how I'd have loved a string of these horses. We would have arrived at our places of work in half the time and would have arrived fresh instead of being bone-weary.

We also found that the Colombian Paso can work cattle, jump, rein in a quick, sharp fashion and catch and hold a cow for roping. They jump without refusals and have much interest in a job well done.

I cut cattle off of a little mare that was too fat to breed. She was very small and had trouble handling my weight if the footing wasn't just right for her. She took great interest in her cow work however, got highly nervous about missing a cow and seemed proud of doing a good job.

Once, when she was still very green, we had a new bunch of cattle to work. Cows quickly sour when they are worked a lot and she got used to losing sour cattle. A "fresh" cow will turn from a horse. A "sour" cow is one that will come right through the horse, having acquired the knowledge that the horse won't hurt it.

The little mare, Yocunda, now one of the famous "old names" of the breed, did a nice job blocking the cows. She worked in true cutting horse fashion, rolling over her hocks to continually block the fresh cow. She was expecting to lose it and became more nervous as the cow kept turning away from her at each block. Yocunda expected to lose those cows and dreaded it. When she held a cow and I stopped the work, she would let out a big sigh. Once, nervous about possibly losing the cow, she just had to do something, so she turned and bit me on the shin! She almost always blocked the cows every turn and I finally learned to stop her while she was still the "winner."

I also roped off of a little mare named Vueltera. I had used her to rope horses and found that her calm nature allowed nothing to rattle her. With no formal training in the art of catching calves, we started catching them for photo sessions and later, movies. She got better every time I roped off of her.

Considering her size, my size, and the size of the calves, Vueltera did a remarkable job. She thought that she was some rope hoarse and carried me out of the box to the calves with her whole heart and soul and short legs!

It was our aim to show people that the Colombian Paso can do anything a saddle horse can do and give you a comfortable ride while doing it. Primarily a pleasure horse, they'll try just about anything you ask them to do.

Yocunda wouldn't make the Top Ten as a cutting horse and Vueltera would never help a roper win a big roping event. The point is, these smooth walking horses can do other things besides the smooth walk and do them well.

Memories of "Killing Fields" & Orphans
Our pastures had formerly been groves of tung oil trees. Under the trees grew deadly nightshade. After bulldozing the trees out and planting pastures, the nightshade, which can kill immediately, came up through the grass. Our pastures were full of it!

Of course the horses had to be kept up until we could clear the pastures of the poisonous weeds, and arduous, time-consuming job. We had no turn-out runs at the time, so the mares were confined in their stalls for long periods. When the pastures were finally purged and fences were run, the mares got their first taste of freedom - and grass! - in Florida. What a joyous time! They couldn't decide which was better, running or eating. Around the pastures they flew, occasionally sliding to a halt to gather a mouthful of grass. The lush grass finally won out and the mares settled down to put it away.

When raising a large number of horses, anyone is sure to have a few die or get killed. Not every threat is as easy to identify as the deadly nightshade. We never knew why Cereza died. Dear old Mica passed away with a liver ailment. A nice filly caught both front legs in a split tree and died of shock and pain. Another managed somehow to wedge her neck between gate and post, hanging herself. A few colts died during the process of birth, which is to be expected. Marquesa caught her head in a forked tree. We kept her alive for five days, but finally had to put her to sleep.

"Carino" & "Tiger"
And then there was Carino. The name itself means "love," or "loved one." He was a fine little colt out of Sarita Montiel, by Hilachas. There was a tricky blood condition between these two and the result was Carino, a "blue baby."

It took a while before we had enough evidence to ascertain that the condition was Rh Negative. Immediate action was then taken, with a massive blood transfusion, successfully completed by flashlight, due to a power failure during the procedure. We found the colt had gained a good measure of strength as the new blood seemed to merge; he seemed stronger and his sight seemed normal.

The weather was too cold for the colt. (Yes, it can get rather cold here during some winters; this is north Florida, after all!) He essentially had no mother, since it's the mother's milk that triggers this reaction in the blood, so he couldn't suckle. I quickly fashioned a "stall" in our client guest room and this became the colt's room. Mac and I started around-the-clock feedings. We used a baby formula, diluted condensed milk, and Karo syrup.

Carino improved. He soon became able to stand without assistance. A few days later, he managed his first wobbling steps. In a week, he could lay down by himself. His supreme accomplishment was getting to his feet and staying there. Each new, progressive step was a cause for celebration.

Of course, the colt was very lonely. We couldn't take the place of his mother, but he wanted us with him constantly, nonetheless. My darkroom adjoined the guest room and Carino made it plain that he wanted to be in there with me. I'd get up and he'd follow me in, never complaining when the lights were out while I developed prints. My portable TV was in the darkroom and I'd watch the "boob tube" while the prints dried. Carino would hobble over and stare intently into the screen, often a half hour at a time. When he tired, I'd lay him on a doubled horse blanket and keep him there with me. Needless to say, I spent a lot of time in the darkroom during Carino's short life.
We never did get his little bowels regulated. He'd have terrific bouts of diarrhea and the vet would give him another shot for it. Then he'd be so constipated that we'd be forced to administer mineral oil and enemas. One day, he got a colic attack and almost immediately died, for he had no strength to fight any sort of illness.

When a person's so close to a colt, it's like losing a pet dog. It tears you up for a long time. It was a month before I could even look at pictures I'd made of this colt.
We were just getting over the shock of losing Carino when Marquesa caught her head in that forked tree. She left behind a three-month old filly. Since the filly was eating grass and drinking water, we took little immediate action. Then, another night of tragedy occurred. One of my top mares, Mimosa, foaled a colt by Mahoma, but it hung up in the mare and never breathed life. Blazita also foaled that night, but had her colt stolen by another mare. This often happens. One mare wants a colt; a timid mare foals and the more aggressive mare steals the colt and fights the mother off. The real mother soon forgets she has even foaled and the colt is left following a mare with no milk.

Now, we have to catch up the "mother" and the foal. It's then often necessary to hobble and muzzle the real mother until the colt has nursed. Everything is usually okay after a few hours, but this was different. Blazita hated her colt. We hobbled and muzzled her for three days, but such treatment couldn't continue. The mare dried up from psychological factors. Though I dreaded it, I had another orphan on my hands.
We nicknamed him "Tiger" and he was a doll. People were to his liking from the start. He'd received nothing but abuse from horses, nothing but kindness from people. Raising him was, of course, easier than trying to raise Carino, for we had a healthy colt to start with and we also had better food. A shipment of the then new milk-replacer, Foal-Lac had arrived from Ocala the very day Carino had died.

Tiger learned to drink his new "milk" in about five minutes flat. He was fed from a little bucket as we had found this was easier than using baby bottles with nipples. This first bucket of Foal-Lac was the most filling and satisfying meal this colt had ever had. His mother never let down enough milk to fill him up. He would try her all day and still be hungry, so six feedings of Foal-Lac a day, every four hours, made Tiger one happy little colt.

This guy had thought humans were pretty nice before, but now he was totally convinced. A little "nicker" greeted the feeder every time and made getting up in the middle of the night worthwhile every time. The milk covered his face and the satisfied look was immensely comforting, especially after having just lost little Carino. I'd lost many before, but this was to be the first time I'd had any luck with raising an orphaned colt.

Our success was giving us other problems however. Tiger loved people so much that he wanted human company all of the time. Mac often walked him during the day and I walked him after work, in the evenings. He was like a little puppy obeying the command to "heel." After pausing to investigate something, he'd then dash up in a flurry of tiny flying hooves to walk once again, pressed up against his "mother."
If there was a TV program I wanted to watch in the evening, Tiger had to come in the house with me. I'd carry him over the slippery porch, through the front room and lay him on the sofa. If he could rest there with his head on my lap, he'd stay for hours. It's a shame I have no pictures of this, but I was too superstitious to take any. This colt wasn't registered, had no real name and I never photographed him. We had done all of this with Carino and had lost him, so I was spooky about it.

Cute Habits & Bad Practices
As cute and endearing as this behavior was, we were actually creating a bad situation for all of us. I was spending half of my time with Tiger - like I had with Carino - which left the other 140 Pasos pretty neglected. Mac and I had absolutely no social life, unless people wanted to visit and walk and feed little colts.

Worst of all, this is very bad for a young horse. He can develop a lack of respect for humans as trainers if raised like this and thus be impossible to train as an older horse. Imagine a 1,000-pound "pet" wanting to lay on the sofa with you!

Something had to be done to convince Tiger that he was a horse. Then I remembered Marquesa's filly. This filly, whose mother had hung herself in a tree, seemed to be doing well enough in the pasture, but we knew she needed extra care. Living with Tiger might provide this.

So Tiger got a "girlfriend". The filly had all the grain she wanted to eat and began filling out immediately. Tiger watched her intently, but didn't care much for her at first; she frightened him, for he was still afraid of horses. But, hour by hour, with her constant company, strong attachments began to develop. Tiger began to follow the filly around the large exercise lot and got plenty of exercise. He soon became her little shadow, but whenever a human brought his little milk bucket, he was ready, nickering at the gate, a true "eager-eater!"

The filly was very curious about Tiger's bucket. Day by day, she came closer at feeding time and soon tried the milk herself. She thought it was "first class" of course, so we always mixed a little extra for her too. But she was growing too fast and after a few months of high living, she was becoming a menace.

Extra grain almost always makes a horse sort of silly. They feel so good that they can get "rank." A gentle horse might start bucking and become spoiled merely from being fed too much.

One morning, the filly feeling, silly, wheeled and dashed from the stall. As she turned, she caught Tiger's neck between her rump and the door jamb. Poor Tiger wasn't really hurt but it staggered him. It was easy to see that the filly was getting too big and all too silly. We had to find Tiger another girl?

One of the fine old mares, La Dama, had given us a nice filly, Constancia, but the baby was making little progress because Dama was a poor milk producer. Constancia was weaned and put on grain feed at five months of age, but still she didn't prosper. She'd never had enough of a start to have the ambition to "get in there" with the other weanlings and fight for her own. This seemed to be the perfect choice to replace Tiger's first "girlfriend."

Constancia did well with Tiger. She was small and no threat to his safety. He didn't like her at first, crying for his original "girl," but soon thought Constancia was perfect. Before long, she too, was drinking milk and her indifferent attitude changed to one of alert playfulness. The Foal-Lac was a big help to all of us. It now only saved Tiger, but gave two fillies a badly needed start. We all live and learn, don't we?

The preceding was excerpted, with permission, from Dave Jones' personal journal

To be continued ... part 7