Certain Magic
Many years ago, when the West was wild in a way different from today, horses were prized beyond value by the Indians, because the animals provided transportation and the means to chase game, flee from danger or barter for a bride. A particularly brave and beautiful breed of spotted horse, known today as the Appaloosa, was first bred and treasured by the Northwest Nez Perce tribes. Many of their rituals and ceremonies centered on these horses, whose speed, stamina and spirit often meant the difference between life and death for their owners.
In one ancient legend, the medicine man of the tribe would bless the pregnant mares each year to insure healthy foals. He would dip his hand in paint, then touch the right hip of the mare with his fingers, leaving distinct prints. The legend goes that a horse thus marked would be possessed of a certain magic.
When I first saw Garryowen Uproar in a dusty pasture in Oklahoma, I knew she was special, and that was long before I stumbled upon the legend. She was only 2 years old, not overly trained or handled and already several months in foal. She was friendly, though, and had a natural curiosity about humans. She let me touch her, then stretched her neck into the air, raising her upper lip into what looked like a smile, honest to God. It turned out to be more of a command than a greeting, however. She chose me; it’s as simple as that.
Fortunately for me, the owners hadn’t read the legend either and parted with her readily enough, telling me only that her nickname was Uppity. Little did I know she was to live up to that in spades. It seemed that she, at least, was fully cognizant of her destiny as a magic horse, with the name to match. From that first day, her role in life was to educate me to that fact.
The horse defines the word uppity . She has more moods, more ways of expressing herself than any 10 horses combined--more than most humans, for that matter.
For one thing, she has the gift of language, albeit a horse version, ranging from a soft, affectionate nicker to grunts of pleasure when she’s rolling in the sand after a sweaty workout. I’ve heard her scream in anxiety, whinny in joy, snort in disgust. But she’s at her best when demanding her due respect in the form of carrots. There’s no mistaking that one.
One of the common Appaloosa characteristics is the white sclera around their eyes, like that of a human. And like a human, Uppity can get that certain look in her eyes that communicates as well as any words, which is pretty unnerving when you’re on the receiving end. She can wrinkle her nostrils in disdain and grind her teeth when annoyed. She makes her point quite effectively by swiveling her ears around and swishing her tail.
She will only be caught when she deigns to be caught. She’ll let you get close, almost there, then whirl away and--when there’s no danger of connecting--she’ll kick one or both heels in your direction. You can gauge the degree of her emphasis by whether it’s a one- or two-heeler.
In Appaloosa lingo, she’s considered to be a classic model, what a ’57 T-Bird is to a car buff. She looks as though a can of white paint was spilled over her rump, hips and back. Some master artist then carefully painted in brown spots, five of which are on the right hip, though I didn’t appreciate their significance at first. I do now, though.
Since I didn’t know the exact date of conception, I could only wait and watch for signs of imminent delivery during that first pregnancy. One night, after returning late from the movies, I went to Uppity’s barn and checked. Nothing. Then I went to bed, leaving the door ajar. Moments later, I heard her groan. I ran to the barn. She was lying outside in the grass, beginning her labor.
She raised her head, nodded in approval, gave a big sigh and got down to business. Soon, a beautiful filly stood on wobbly legs, right before my eyes. The miracle of birth has a magic all its own. I realized that she had waited for me to come home, then called to let me know it was time. She has magic, all right. Humans call it communication.
Uppity does her ancestors proud, fulfilling the prophecy admirably, but I’ve added a bit to that legend. Once you find a magic horse with the handprint on her hip, you get to keep her, forever.
