I remember my college days with such fondness. I attended Linn Benton Community college for a degree in Horse Management One of the required classes was Horse Breeding. My classmates and I studied the hormonal cycles of the mare and stallion, parturition and foal care. We collected stallions, inseminated mares, monitored their pregnancy and when the time got close we were assigned mare checks. Checks took place every two or four hours depending on the mare's seeming readiness to deliver. This night was my first free from mare check in two weeks, I was exhausted and went to bed early. I was fortunate to live in the mobile home at the barn so I had the opportunity to watch most of the mares give birth. Tonight I wanted nothing more than to sleep, heavenly brilliant, peaceful slumber!

Alas, my roommate woke me up with a soft knock at around 4am. I only heard two words: Molly's baby. I shot out of bed, threw on my robe and cowgirl boots. Molly was having her baby! O.k., so maybe I don't want sleep that badly after all...

I kept my camera in the pocket of my Carhart jacket and I threw that over my robe to beat the early AM chill. Noella and I ran to the stall of her big, buxom blond mare Molly. We had somehow missed the birth between two hour checks, the colt was already standing and nursing. He was big! Long legs and his mom's large round caboose. He matched his mom marking for marking, the same golden chestnut coat with three white socks and a large white blaze.

Noella and I were in awe at the miracle of life standing on wobbly legs in front of us. For a moment we were paralyzed, unsure what to do next. Then our training took over. I broke my gaze from his perfect innocence to get the selenium/vit E shot from the refrigerator and some novalson to squirt onto his navel. Noella got the honors since it was her mare's colt. He was strong little fella and in his slippery newness and baby broncing Noella had some difficulty treating him. I stood ready with my camera, taking hundreds of pictures, every movement was precious and I wanted to capture them all.

It was an ideal birth, no complications, healthy foal, healthy mom, placenta passed quickly, all was aright in the world. We checked out the placenta, I kicked it with the purple toe of my boots and then picked it up for a quick study. The foal ripped it in half, and I was reminded of Clark Kent, who rips his shirt in two to reveal the blue spandex and a golden S. I dubbed the foal Clark and the name stuck.

Clark and Molly were my projects for the term. My group and I were responsible for cleaning their stall, turning them out to pasture, and cleaning his little bum when it got really poopy. It was great fun! We taught him to wear a halter, and to lead nicely beside his mom. No one in my group wanted to handle Clark because he was so big and rambunctious, but I was not afraid and took up the cause. I enjoyed working with the little fella, teaching him to lead with a butt rope and sacking him out to human touch. I found the spots to scratch that calmed him immediately. That was my secret handling technique with Clark. Scratch him on the withers, massage his little back, and his golden spot, the corners along his dock. He would stretch out his little neck clacking in ecstasy when I found the spot. A little persuasive itching and Clark was clay in my hands, I was able to mold him into a calm gentle colt.

Clark and I bonded, he was friendly and curious. Something sparkled in his soft brown eyes. I spent most of my free time in the pasture with the mares and their foals, snapping pictures, napping in the sun, and watching the foals frolic and play. Something about the little chestnut colt, some mysterious light in his eyes convinced me to buy him.

Between then and now I sent Clark out to pasture to live free and wild with a small band of geldings. He got to live life as a horse, learning from his Uncle Xerxes how to cross water, navigate trails and soak up the early morning sun. His Uncle Xerxes is a BLM mustang and one of the smartest horses I have ever met. He raised two colts already into calm, intelligent trusting geldings. Clark will be his third, and my first.

Now he is two years old and I am going to start him under saddle soon. He remembers our scratch and massage sessions, the foundation of our trust. He learns quickly and responds to verbal praise with eagerness and bright eyes. He is a lazy boy, with a long flat stride and natural impulsion. In my excitement I see Clark being able to tackle any discipline and mastering it, however in reality I know I need to start with the basics. We are taking it slow, not in any hurry to be a superstar. I just want to raise a healthy trusting horse.

What a treat to be able to raise this horse from his very first days, building a relationship from simple massages, scratching and a soft voice. His trust in me is a gift, and I treasure it. That trust will help me continue to mold and develop him into a beautiful, willing mount, bringing out his fullest potential.