Buckshot Is Gone And I'll Miss Him

Back in 2011, not too long after starting my blog, I wrote about how we should be careful when naming a horse. I used my horse, Buckshot, as an example of how to jinx your horse with a name that might bring out a part of their personality that may be best kept under wraps.  

I wrote about how back in 2003, my shoer-buddy, a pretty good friend, asked me to help him take his Arab mare to the Turlock Horse Auction. To make a long story short about that, he wasn't happy with his mare. And really, 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 he wanted to take her to the Turlock Horse Auction. I thought she was too nice a horse to simply dump 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!"

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. He was a nice horse. And yes, it seemed that Buckshot was "aced" for the sale. 

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 both dog and horse trainers. And frankly speaking, I won't have anything to do with horse trainers who'll "ace" a horse. Drugging a horse is not what's needed to train a horse, and it's important to use a lot of caution around horses that have been drugged. Drugging a horse should never be a substitute for proper training.

As for realizing that Buckshot was "aced" for the sale, I couldn't believe it. Since I rode him the day before, I had a hard time accepting that this horse was the same horse that I rode. I decided that I had to ride him out, so 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 I got him saddled. Then I decided to take this real slow, and lead 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.

Out away from trees and anything else, I put my left foot in the stirrup and then just as I was about to throw my right leg over ... 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!"

Buckshot shotgun ammunition contains large pellets and is designed for hunting medium to large game like deer and for self-defense. Birdshot shotgun ammo contains smaller pellets for hunting birds and small game. Shotgun slugs are large single projectiles for bigger game. Of course, shooting buckshot ammo usually produces more recoil than lighter loads of birdshot. 

As I said above, 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 darker red spots on his rump, almost an Appy sort of markings that looked like a buckshot shotgun spray pattern, I thought I'd name him "Buckshot." 

Was he "explosive" like my friend said? Yes, he was. And here's the rest of the story of Buckshot. 

Since the Turlock Auction was held every two weeks, I had to wait two weeks to take him back. After going down there and talking with the owner of the auction in private, I got most of my money back.

But, unlike my friend who got under $200 for his good-looking Arab mare two weeks earlier, I decided that I wanted to make up the difference of $500 that I lost when bringing him back. To make up for what I lost on him, I had to sell him at the auction. 

When the bidding started, the kill buyers bid $10. Then it went to $20. And it went back and forth between two to three kill buyers at $5 increments until it reached about $120. At that point, the auctioneer called it. But then, the auctioneer stopped the sale to the kill buyer. 

The auctioneer looked up from his paperwork and asked if the seller of this horse was in the audience. That's when I stood up and said I was. He said, "Sir, you have a hold on the price you will take for this horse. Do you want to waive that hold and go with the last bid?" 

The kill buyer stood up and said his bid was good and the horse was his. The auctioneer looked at him and told him to sit down. He told the kill buyer that I put a hold on the amount of money that I would take for my horse. And then he looked to me and asked again, "Sir, will you take your hold off this horse and accept the final bid amount?"

I said, "No. I'd rather take the maniac home than let the killers have him." To my surprise, while the kill buyer was visibly upset, the crowd stood up and applauded. 

With that, the auctioneer pounded his gavel and said, "No sale!" Then looked at me and said, "Sir, that maniac is still yours. Good luck."

I said thank you and took him home.  Before I left the auction, a few people approached me to ask what I planned to do with him since he wasn't rideable. I told them, "He'd either make a great companion horse or lawn ornament, but the killers weren't getting him."

That was 2003. He was supposedly either 7 or 8 years old when I brought him home that night. And yes, my friends, I tried to provide him with a good home for the last 22 years. Yesterday, my boy Buckshot, my "Bucky Boy," a horse that I rescued from a killers auction so many years ago, a horse that I only rode once but became very close to, a horse that became part of my small herd of rescues, died last night. 

I found him this morning in his stall. He was either 29 or 30 years old. And yes, I will miss him. He really was a great horse. He really was a wonderful friend. And as for how I see life, while I know I will revisit him in my dreams, I also know I will see him again later when, like him, God also calls me home.   

Tom Correa