Horses: How Not To Name Them

When picking a name for a horse, I was brought up to look at the whole horse. In that, I'd take into consideration what the horse looks like, its habits, its temperament, its basic behavior, or even where it's from.

For example, when I was growing up in Hawaii, we had a Quarter Horse named "Molokai" because it was brought over to Oahu from Molokai as a yearling. He was a great horse, sweet, calm, and bombproof. He was great for us kids to learn on.

We also had an Appaloosa that my grandfather called "White Ass." Which, of course, was an obvious reference to its Appy markings. And yes, I know, we really weren't very creative, were we?

I knew someone who named his horse "Anytime." It was named that because anytime that horse wanted to throw a fit, it would do so instantly. And of course, there was my grandfather's mule, which he named "Jackass Ginger." He chose "Ginger" because she was very sweet, and she reminded him of a bartender that he knew.

And no, I have no idea if the bartendress ever knew that that mule was named after her as sort of a tribute to her. In fact, come to think about it, I never asked if it was a reflection of her personality or not. Naming a mule after a bartendress can be taken either way. She was either very nice or a jackass.

But after considering what the horse looks like, its habits, its temperament, its behavior, or even where it's from, then one should keep in mind that that name is what other folks will call the horse. I mean, you wouldn't want people to have to call out to "Mammoth Hay Burner Who Throws People For Fun." So, instead, names like "Mac" are used. It helps when a rider says, "Whoa, Mac!" or "Come here, Mac!"

Of course, I always try to keep in mind that the name I pick will be the name the horse will be stuck with. That is, of course, unless you sell the horse and the new owner wants to change the name to what they want.

I was told that it was not good to change a horse's name. First, it is not good because it confuses those working with the horse. And second, it confuses the horse.

All in all, that's true unless, of course, the horse has a name like "Jerome," or "Julius," or "Othelia," or "Woodwind," or "Lacy," or say "Marcel." In that case, I'm sure even the horse can't stand its name.

My horse Murphy is a gelding, and the lady who owned him before me called him "Lacy".  I'm sorry, but I just had a hard time telling folks that I was going to ride my boy Lacy! After all, he wasn't a San Francisco horse. And besides, Lacy didn't fit him. You see, after I bought him, there was one problem after another for a while there, so I thought about one of Murphy's Laws. The law that says "whatever can go wrong will go wrong." So I named him Murphy. 

Yup, he became "Murphy!" And he's been Murphy ever since.

This all reminds me of something that happened about 8 years ago, when a good friend asked me to help him take his Arab mare to the Turlock Horse Auction.

He was my shoer and good friend, and he wasn't happy with his Arab mare. But for me, I couldn't understand it since she wasn't a bad horse. Besides, she had papers and a bloodline that wouldn't quit. To me, other than being in heat every day, a real squirter, no matter what, she was a sweet little horse. Typical Arab small pretty face, about 14 and a half hands, grey, and really not as high-strung as some Arab mares. And really. I looked at it this way: when it comes to Arabs, even if she was a little flaky now and then, if she did have the bloodlines that my friend said she did, then why not breed her out? 

I had no idea why he didn't want to breed her to someone who'd like to extend their bloodline. For whatever reason, it seemed a mystery why, after a few years of owning her, he finally wanted to take her to the Turlock Horse Auction. With her outstanding conformation, it made me wonder why he wanted to dump her at the Turlock Auction.

Some refer to the Horse Auction in Turlock, California, as a "Killers Auction" because a lot of the regular buyers there are looking for horses to turn into dog food. "Killer horse auctions" are horse auctions where "kill buyers" purchase horses for slaughter. The kill buyers go looking for cheap horses sold at auction, and buy them to sell the horses for meat. I know I said it three times. I also know that I have zero respect for kill buyers. 

While some horses are purchased for riding, kill buyers hang around auctions, wanting to buy cheap horses. Sometimes, they'll buy healthy, good riding horses, in many cases horses that were being dumped there by horse owners who can't afford their feed bills. The horses are shipped to slaughterhouses, primarily in Mexico and Canada. A lot of horse auctions have kill buyers. A lot of horse auctions have kill buyers who try to get horses for nothing by keeping down the bidding. I've been to a lot of horse auctions over the years, and some are as disreputable as the day is long. I've known of some horse auctions that get a cut from the kill buyers. 

And no, my opinion of the places hasn't changed over the years. As far as I've always been concerned, it's always a case of "Buyer Beware" at most auctions. And here's this, they will tell you that all sales are based on the idea that the buyer is buying a horse "as is." That's a scam. In reality, most state laws say that buyers are buying horses "as represented." That's a big difference since horse auctions are notorious for selling "drugged horses," which are horses that are drugged to appear calmer than they really are. 

Drugged horses are falsely represented as calm, rideable horses when, in fact, those horses have been known to get people seriously hurt after they're sold and the horses' drugs wear off. 

So, along with me, my friend who needed my trailer to get his mare down there, my kid brother from Hawaii, also went with us. My brother was in California visiting, he ropes and bull rides, and does a lot of Rodeo. He knows stock and cowboying pretty good. So yes, it was great to have him along. And like he said, "You never know what you'll find that someone is selling. There are prizes and surprises. Hopefully, you buy a prize and not a surprise."

When we got to the auction, my friend went over and took care of business while my brother and I decided to check out the local horse flesh up for sale. I was not there to buy a horse. I was just the driver delivering one. But as everyone knows, cowboys at a Horse Auction have to see what's being sold. It's sort of like taking your wife shopping; there's no guarantee she'll just look at the things she doesn't have on her shopping list. There is just too much temptation.

My shoer pulled me over to where he was standing just so that I would take a look at the horse, and even my brother, who was standing there, said, "Tom, that's the horse for you!"

I said, "I saw another horse over there ...," but they wouldn't hear it! They were convinced that this was the best horse at the sale. This was the horse that I was looking for to give my horse Murphy a break.

And yes, there at the Turlock, California, Horse Auction, I found a horse I liked. He was a stocky, short-backed, straight-legged horse in the small show coral. And though he didn't have a BLM freeze brand, he was built more like a Mustang Cross than a Quarter Horse. But if he were a Quarter, then that was fine with me because I like Quarter Horses.

He was about 15.2 hands, and he was being ridden by a 13-year-old girl without a problem like there was no tomorrow. And looking at the horse, I have to say that I couldn't help but agree with my friend and my brother. He was built like a tank.

So even though I really wasn't in the market for another horse, once the Auction started, I wanted that horse! Well, I got him. And once the paperwork was done, I went outside to load him. And yes, he loaded great. In fact, he trailered great and rode quiet all the way back from Turlock, which was about 3 3-hour drive.

Once I got him home, he handled like a charm. Talk about proud cowboys, I think our hats were way too small for our heads. I can say with certainty that at that precise moment that there was no better Horse Traders in the entire U.S. of A. And yes, all the way home, I heard nothing but how good they both did picking out this horse.

The next day, I put my saddle on him and we went out for a short ride in the nearby BLM land. It was a nice, easy ride. Nothing hard to handle, especially for a horse built like this guy.

During our ride, he was a little blowy. But other than that, he worked fine. After we got back, I put him up. And since I was busy that day with other things to do, I didn't work him anymore that day other than feeding him when I fed everyone else.

Since the horse had no name. I figured that I really should find a nice name for this great-looking light red roan. Beings that he has some red spots on his rump, almost an Appy sort of markings that looked like a shotgun spray pattern, I thought I'd name him "Buckshot."

Great huh? I thought so at the moment. When I was a kid, there was a horse that was named "Buckshot" that was a real nice horse. It was a horse on TV in one of the many Westerns that used to be all over the tube back then. Of course, since I was also into Cowboy Action Shooting, I figured Buckshot would be a good link to that as well.

The next day, my shoer buddy came back out to shoe Murphy. While we drank coffee with my brother, my friend went on and on about the horse that he picked out for me. My brother, not wanting to be cut out of the "at-a-boys" wanted his share of the credit for my purchase. I just grinned and laughed. Told them about taking him out yesterday and how it was. The coffee was good and I loved it all.

I loved it all, that is, until we walked over to where I had "Buckshot" tied and found him breathing fire as I tried to reach to untie his lead rope. He reared back and became wild-eyed and crazy. He spun away each time I reached for him. He tried all he could to pull free. He even tried to rear up and strike me.

My shoer buddy, who not so secretly always wanted to be a Trainer, said, "I'll sack'em out!" But the horse was crazed! Turning, Buckshot fired kick after kick at me and my friend until my friend gave up out of fear.

My brother said, "Oh man, Tommy, you've been taken! Look what you bought! He was drugged! He was aced!"

My shoer looked at me and laughed, "Wow! You picked a rank horse, Pard!"

After a few minutes in disbelief, my brother had to leave for an appointment in town. My shoer-buddy left soon after my brother -- laughing as he drove off. Personally, I didn't see the joke. I didn't think it was funny. While Buckshot was a nice horse, it seemed he was certainly "aced" for the sale. After all, he wasn't the same horse that I bid on at the horse auction. It was obvious that they had "aced" him to appear calm and rideable to scam someone. In this case, I was scammed.

Horses being "aced" usually refers to them being given the tranquilizer Acepromazine, or "ace". Acepromazine is a medication often used to calm or sedate horses for various reasons, such as veterinary procedures that require a horse to be still, to manage anxious horses to help a horse handle stressful situations like trailering or unfamiliar environments, for post-injury management to hand walk or turnout a horse that's been on stall rest, and some horse trainerrs have been known to "ace" a difficult horse to make it more manageable during schooling or handling.

For me, I've learned not to trust some dog trainers as well as some horse trainers. Some of them are not exactly the most reputable people to deal with. And frankly speaking, while I won't have anything to do with either dog or horse trainers who purposely mistreat animals, I won't have anything to do with horse trainers who'll "ace" a horse to show how well their training is coming along. Sadly, it's a scam that some trainers try to get away with.

Drugging a horse is not what's needed to train a horse. Drugging a horse should never be a substitute for proper training. And really, it's important to use a lot of caution around horses that have been drugged -- especially as the drugs are wearing off. Some aren't safe to be around as the drugs are wearing off. You can get hurt if you don't use caution around them.

As for me, because I rode him the day before, I was having a hard time believing it was true. Of course, seeing him act like a maniac made me realize that Buckshot was definitely "aced" for the sale. So what convinced me? Well, I had a hard time accepting that this horse was the same horse that I rode. So, I decided that I had to ride him out. To do that, I went into my tack room and got my saddle off its rack and headed for Buckshot.

It took me a while of fighting with him, but after a while, I did get him saddled. Then I decided to take this real slow so that I wouldn't get hurt in the process, and I led him out into an open area in front of my barn. He seemed to lead okay at first, unless, of course, I turned to face him. I found that if I did face him, he'd get wide-eyed and pull back and try to rear up.

Once in what I thought was an open space away from trees and anything else, I put my left foot in the stirrup and then just as I was throwing my right leg over the saddle ... he blew!

Now, if you've been to Rodeos, then you know what a Bronc coming out of the chute looks like. Well, without a bucking-strap, he went straight up into the air and into the air and into the air, bucking over and over and over again. No, it wasn't just really bad crow-hopping. He was bucking like nothing I'd ever seen in or out of a Rodeo.

He came down so hard once that he lost his footing, crashed right into the picket fence that was in front of my home. He tore up a few sections of picket fence before moving on and away from the house.  

Just before he got up, my thinking was that he may have been done, but then he started up again as I went towards him. Again up and in the air again and again until he went head first into a tree. That knocked him silly and down onto the ground, and again I thought that that was the end of it - and again I was wrong.

This time he bucked over to some water-pipes, and stomped them good before heading for my lower well pump house. Yes, I really thought he was going to take out my pump shack. But instead, he headed toward my creek. And yes, in the blackberry bushes, he slowly calmed down. Then, finally, he just stood there, nostrils flared and breathing heavily. I slowly walked over to him and reached for his lead rope, then took it and led him over to his pen.

Later, a friend of mine shook his head and laughed a little when he heard about Buckshot going berserk, saying, "Look on the bright side. Naming him Buckshot was fairly accurate. He is explosive!"

I replied that I now understood why the people who sold me the horse didn't name him. After all, there is the possibility that they didn't want to name something that they might feel like shooting later!  

Do I regret calling him Buckshot?  Well, let's just say that after seeing him buck the way he did, I started to think that maybe I should've named him "Peaceful!"

Story by Tom Correa