The Story of Narramore Stud

I suppose our breeding interest all started when my husband had a row with someone over a blocked bridleway. The farmer had parked his huge trailer so as to make the gateway nigh impossible to negotiate, and my husband decided he wouldn't be thwarted, so asked his mare to go through the gap. Part way through she kicked out at the metal trailer, and broke her splint bone into several pieces meaning 18 months off.

We decided to put her in foal and first sent her to a TB stallion chosen simply because he was not very far away; she had a nice but average type of foal, so the following year we chose a very well known Dutch stallion.

Things didn't go well: she was at the stud for three months, came back empty and when unloading her, we realised she was in season, so straight back in the trailer for another 100 mile trip to be covered when we got there, but she didn't take. That September, the Dutch stallion arrived on loan over the winter to a local lady just two miles away, so when the mare came in season despite it being so late, we seized the opportunity and got her covered. She caught and although the foal was born in late August, at least we had a foal but also a huge bill, which didn't thrill us at all.

Around this time I had visited a friend of mine, Liz Waite, who had been breeding good horses for a long time. One of her first had been Flarepath, whom she sold to the Whitaker family, and after a competitive career she became one of their foundation mares. Flarepath was the result of a mating by Furisto, whom Liz had bought with a partner, and she had covered all her mares before selling him on. Whilst at her yard I was very taken by a young 3 year old stallion she had bought via a dealer Doug Aldred, having asked him to find her a replacement for Furisto. Doug assured her that this bloodline would one day be very special, and that this was the only stallion currently in the UK by the sire Knock Boy, an RID. I knew nothing about bloodlines, but I liked the horse. He had a kind eye, good bone and although I wasn't keen on his hocks, his temperament was good and Liz assured me he had a powerful jump. So I asked her to let us know if ever she wanted to sell him, thinking of the stud fees we could save.

The following year Liz rang us and asked if we were interested in buying the stallion, so we set off back to the Wirral to see him. Liz directed us down a track about a mile long and off we went, passing a couple of old-looking horses on route - they were busy eating slices of bread over the gate from some kids and we didn't really take much notice of them.

After a fruitless search we retraced our steps, and on looking under the chestnut's belly, I noticed he had balls, so yes, the horse with the three feet long mane, huge feet etc. was the stallion! After a good laugh we arranged to try him under saddle and my husband rode him round the arena. He felt much bigger to ride than he looked and was very unschooled, but the price was agreed and we bought him. The following week he arrived in Liz's box screaming his head off, and after her having a few words (!) with him he exploded down the ramp and into our ownership.

Above: Ambertson

It was a steep learning curve. I had owned a couple of young Welsh cob stallions but they were pussycats compared to Bert (Ambertson). He was young, eager to get at his mares and we knew nothing. We started off covering in the middle of the riding arena which meant he had to walk across from his yard on one side of the lane to the waiting mare, having first tried her at his stable door. I don't know who struggled worst, the person holding Bert or the one with the mare, as his behaviour was always the same: he'd walk fairly well the first few steps then once he reached the step down into the arena, he would rear full height waving his bits at the waiting mare, who if we had the right day would stand patiently, but being novices sometimes we didn't, with traumatic results. It was ok if we had a well mannered full-in-season mare, but when we got it wrong it was more like a pantomime.

Probably the worst time was when the mare squirted at him then decided she was not going to stand. She sent me flying (I'm 5'2 " so not hard), and careered round on the end of the lunge, Bert not to be outdone charged after her and soon we had two of them running round us on two lunge lines, with the person on the inside ducking as the line went over their head... It ended when the mare's seemingly good lunge line snapped and she ran off out of the arena heading back to her stable, unfortunately at this point a party of German tourists were walking through the farm heading for the Quaker graveyard we had in the garden, and on seeing a wild horse (16.3hh) apparently charging them they all jumped like synchronised swimmers over the dividing wall in one bound.. (I'd love to know what stories they told on returning home).

We did however learn how to handle him and soon he was easy to use and competing at shows. He did indeed have a tremendous jump, and despite my husband being pretty novice, they managed virtually always to be placed BSJA. Bert's method of helping Phil was that if Phil put him wrong he would simply jump six foot to get over the fence. We realised help was needed and found John Greenwood, who was the most patient of trainers, and went back to square one until the basics were established. The shows were great fun: we took delight in beating the many professionals every week, but the downside was that the talent scouts who haunt the shows pestered the life out of us. At this point we had received so many huge money offers we decided to breed a few more like him (I can hear hollow laughs as I type) and refused to sell him. I am sure that, with a top rider, he could have been very successful but life/jobs/kids always limited the number of shows we could get to and he eventually retired from competition without realising his potential.

So our first ambition was to breed a top class show jumper.

By this time we had retired my mare, whom a local rider had competed jumping after we realised she would never make a dressage horse. By Frère Jaques, she was a real hot head but held the record for five years of winning every Open Class in Hunter Trials she entered. We had even had one of the top show jumping professional riders come and try her when she was at one point up for sale, and to my astonishment he popped her round a huge course bigger than me so we knew she had more than average ability. She was so light on her feet when jumping yet so powerful, she too went in foal to Bert.

Our interest in breeding was growing, so we moved 300 miles and bought a 107 acre farm, still with that plan of breeding top horses....

We bred nice horses out of the mares and by our stallion, sold several to homes once ridden away and were pleased to hear all had done well in their careers with their new owners, everything from BD to BSJA and riding club classes, but no duplicate to the stallion ever appeared. Oh he stamped his looks on his offspring and all had that enormous jump, but nothing was good enough to be a stallion. The years went on and we had several daughters from the foundation mares and the stallion, so we started looking for outside stallions again for them. The plan had been to sell two of the mares but one stuck her foot down a rabbit hole within 6 weeks of being backed so she ended up a brood mare, and her bigger sister was backed and proved a super ride but I was too fond of her to sell her, so in foal she went too. Every year both mares went off to a stallion, usually one we thought would complement them but no real reasoning other than that.

First we tried RID, and bred 7 by Tullough Hero. Then we used a Selle Français Matinée du Madon, who sired two beautiful but tricky horses who really were only suitable as professional rides, so we kept searching for suitable stallions. The ID x TB were nice types but really pretty ordinary, so we moved on to a local stallion – Harpers Bornival - belonging to an acquaintance. He wasn't very big, by Quendel de Bornival a Belgian barely 16hh but he moved well with a long loose stride, his dam had been successfully round Badminton twice, and he really was nicely put together, so that year one mare went to him, another to a TB. The following year the foal by the local stallion was born and admired by many; by then he had moved away and we forgot all about him.