Tribute Farm

Memories

GAY TRIBUTE

A Tribute to Tribute

Every horseperson involved with a particular breed carries within his or her mind a picture of it's ideal representative--a horse who in mind and body represents all that person cherishes in that breed. Breeders and trainers might strive for a lifetime to attain their ideal. My daughter & I owned ours.

Gay Tribute (AMHA 28853) was foaled in 1975, a dark chestnut colt with a narrow white blaze and the lucky white left hind sock. His sire, Gay Commander, was a park saddle champion of old government Morgan breeding; his dam, Jaklin, was the daughter of the California-bred Dapper Dan. From both Tribute inherited intelligence, endurance, and athletic ability.

His breeders had hoped for a filly--a future broodmare--so when Tribute showed the slow growth typical of his line, (he matured at 14.1) he was gelded at age 3 and sold for a show prospect. The family that bought him loved him, but wanted to start a breeding farm, so after three years, Tribute was again for sale, and so entered our lives. I had grown up north of Chicago, reading every horse story in my public library, and in 4th grade, had spent four glorious weeks at a riding day camp. I knew my breeds, my stats, my history-- collected Breyer horses and other horse paraphernalia, painted paint-by-number oils of horses, and never missed a televised Triple Crown race. When my 10-year-old daughter came to me, saying "Mom, I need a horse", I was primed. We traded our sterling service for Tribute.

We all learned together. Meg (who had had four months of lessons) learned to sit a canter, to recognize her diagonals, to post without stirrups, to ride saddleseat, hunt seat, western seat & sidesaddle, to jump and to drive, to groom and to load. I learned to sew riding clothes, pick hooves, groom, ride, drive a horse & sulky, pull a trailer with a truck, calm a nervous horse or child, and always carry a spare curb chain. Tribute learned to tolerate and then love us both.

No matter what Meg asked of him--show, trail-ride, load in any trailer any time anywhere, pull Santa in a sleigh, give pony-rides at church, jump 3'6", carry the flag in a band festival parade, go in 13 classes and place in all after travelling 17 hours the day before--Trib always was willing. He was undefeated in walktrot or leadline no matter who borrowed him. His energy was unflagging-- three kids could each show him in several classes of a one-day show without ruffling his equanimity.

These incidents should give you an idea of Trib's personality. Six weeks after we purchased him, he was shot by a trespassing out- of-season bowhunter. Our vet, with his arm inside Trib past the elbow, said the shocked horse might not last the night; the next morning he had eaten half his bedding. Then, it was "he might limp all his life"; five days later he was trotting around the farmyard; Finally, "he shouldn't be ridden for three months"; six weeks later he was 2nd in a saddleseat pleasure class of seven riders.

Two years after acquiring Trib, we chose to learn to drive (he already knew). When I tipped over the cart, Trib stood like a statue, glancing over his shoulder with a look that said "that's not how to do it!" He then permitted me to turn the cart rightside up, straighten the lines, climb in, and drive off. The following year, a tornado struck the fairgrounds where we were stabled under canvas. Afterwards, I calmed and led a shaking Tribute out from underneath. When we arrived at the nearby wooden barn, snorting and blowing, a groom commented "that's a nice little stud colt"; Trib was a nine-year- old gelding at the time!

Three years later, we were hauling Tribute through Burnsville, Minnesota on a Friday night when my truck malfunctioned. We had to pull into a gas station and unload Tribute so that the trailer could be detached, permitting the truck to be hoisted onto the rack. As I lunged Trib in an empty lot next to the Burnsville Parkway, we suddenly were surrounded by small children. Although he looked askance at the skateboards, Trib didn't flinch at the traffic, headlights, or children hugging his knees. Trib could cope with anything!

Together this little (14.1) backyard Morgan and Meg competed nationally, winning three silver equitation medals, a bronze AMHA open competition medallion, and an AMHI college scholarship. His grace at the road trot still brings tears to my eyes--of joy at his beauty, of gratitude that he has enriched our lives.

When Meg went off to college and stopped showing, Trib was leased out to three different youngsters, and got them started showing Morgans. Then for a year he was a one-on-one therapy horse, helping an older gentleman recover from a heart attack. When Trib retired at 20, he had lost his peripheral and night vision, and was almost blind, but still kept busy babysitting the weanlings. He never left our family. "In some ways, he was the heart of it, for Tribute was the 'raison d'etre' for Tribute Farm."

Trib celebrated his 22nd birthday on June 15, 1997, with 2 Macintosh apples and a one-hour supervised graze in the unmowed grass next to the farm drive. He was pleased. That summer he was the practice grooming horse for 20 eight-year-olds attending horse daycamp at our stable. All of them learned to pick feet from Trib. On September 15, it was such a sunny day I took Trib on a 2-hour trailride thru the meadows--his ears were forward all the way. A week later, he was dead from liver and renal failure cause by acute viral hepatitis, although he fought until the very end. He is buried next to his sister Glady, on the rise where the haymeadow meets the woods.

Happy trails, Trib, until we meet again.

(c) 1997 Marsha Valance

To view Trib's ancestors, please click on the highlighted names.

Pedigree for
Gay Tribute 28853

Morgan

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