Dreams Can Come True!

If you ask any pony mad little girl what their dream horse would look like, most of them would describe a palomino or buckskin - a ‘golden’ horse - and I was no exception. There is something magical about the colour of a golden horse, the way its coat glistens in the sun as if sprinkled with star dust. I had a bedroom wall plastered with pictures that had been clipped out of numerous magazines and unceremoniously stuck up with sellotape. I would spend hours, every weekend, sitting behind the fencing of a stud farm down the lane from my house. They specialised in breeding palominos. I would watch the foals romping and dream that I was riding them across the fields with their white manes flowing in the wind. I truly believed I was flying.

Not many people realise that the colour of a palomino and buckskin are created by the influence of the same dilute gene. The only difference between the two is the original colour of the horse’s base coat. A palomino is the dilute gene’s affect on a chestnut coat and the buckskin is the dilute gene’s affect on a bay/black coat. In the United Kingdom most buckskins are wrongly referred to as duns. A completely different gene creates the dun colour and distinctive markings all together, but that is a subject for a whole different article. I digress.

On one memorable morning, I arrived at my usual spot and settled down to watch the babies play. It wasn’t long before I spotted her, the most beautiful horse I had ever seen in my life, and I was mesmerised. Her coat shone gold in the summer sun and yet her mane and tail were as black as a midnight sky. It was at that point I promised myself, whenever I was able to, I would own a horse like her. Time passes and horses have become a major factor in my life, but I never forgot that filly and the way she had taken my breath away so many years before.

It is decades since those childhood memories; many wonderful horses have come and gone. All have contributed in their own way towards who I am, but that filly still remained in my dreams. So in 2000 as the new millennium was called, I decided to find a dream horse of my very own. I started my journey by scanning the Internet. I put every connotation that I felt would best describe my golden horse, into as many search engines as I could. Mostly using the word “dun”, as that is what I thought I was looking for. It wasn’t long before I realized that I was not actually looking for a dun, but the horse of my dreams was a BUCKSKIN.

Yes I was looking for a colour, but experience has taught me the pitfalls of compromising on the main criteria, so I made a list: -

Conformation – It had to be correct, no compromise!!

Temperament – I don’t do nasty!!

Breeding – It had to have a full pedigree and correct paperwork

Price – I had to be able to afford it without taking out a second mortgage.

Type – It had to be sports horse type

Suitability – It had to be over 16 hands and either proven as a sports horse, or show the ability to become one.

Hereditary Problems – it had to be free of any hereditary problems and pass a full 5 stage vetting with x-rays.

Vices – It had to have no known vices.

And finally, it had to be BUCKSKIN.

Well months of searching turned into years. I received details on hundreds of horses, most of which never made it past the first stage; they were dismissed on their photos alone. Others would not tick all the boxes on my list; I was getting really downhearted. After almost 4 years of searching, I was about to give up on my dream coming true. Then one day in my Inbox, I received an email telling me of a weanling colt that was on the market in Germany. All I was told was that it was a buckskin colt and he had been Champion Oldenburg foal of his region in East Germany. I asked if the owners would provide me with photos, pedigree and a brief description of him.

I eagerly awaited their reply and I was not disappointed when it arrived. So far so good - on paper he was ticking all the right boxes. I requested a video of him moving and held my breath. Days passed with no response, they then turned into weeks, but finally I got my reply. In very broken English was a wholehearted apology for the delay, they had been completely snowed in and had been unable to get footage before now. I clicked on the link and watched the video. I then rewatched it about 100 times in disbelief. I thought to myself, is this for real, could I possibly be looking at my dreams coming true?

By the time I had arranged my flights and co-coordinated with the breeders about where I was going, it was already March and the colt was now a yearling. I boarded the first of my two flights with both excitement and anticipation, was he going to pass the test, or will it be a wasted journey. I finally landed at a small airport somewhere in Germany near the boarders of Czechoslovakia. I had no idea of whom I was meeting or what they looked like. I just stood there, feeling very alone, not knowing what the next five days would bring. I waited for what seemed like hours; I was starting to really worry - had I been stood up? The airport was now empty, as all the passengers from my flight had left. I then felt a tap on my shoulder; I turned to see a young girl, probably around 18 years old. She said, “are you Mrs. Leeeen” and smiled. I was so relieved!

The journey from the airport took about an hour. There were 3 passengers in the car, the girl, her father and myself. Conversation was limited as her father didn’t speak a word of English and the girl seemed very shy about her command of the language too. My German was, and still is, non-existent. We finally arrived at the stud, a beautiful old traditional German property, which had been in the family for many generations. I was shown to my accommodation and offered a cup of tea. I was desperate to get out into the stables and see all their horses. But first things first, I really needed to freshen up, as well as put on some warmer clothes, as I was freezing! The young girl, whom I now knew was called Madlen, and her father gave me the guided tour. We went from one building to another and all of them seemed to be filled with healthy, inquisitive, golden horses, but where was my yearling? We walked into yet another barn and along the way I was given a brief description about each horse, its age, pedigree and competition record. By this time the young girl was getting more comfortable with talking to me and translating for her father, a gentle looking man who spent most of the time with a huge smile on his face. His love for his horses and the obvious pride he was taking in showing them to this stranger from across the waters was infectious. Eventually we arrived at his stable, and the gentle man announced with so much pride in his voice “Legrande”. He looked like a little woolly teddy bear as I opened the door and walked over to him, feeling the butterflies in my stomach. I reached out my hand and a fuzzy little muzzle came over to greet it. Was I finally touching the horse of my dreams?