Webster, defines horse sense as common sense, total perception of the five senses. As the strong, graceful and beautiful Naborr stands next to his foal Madryborr for the first time, could he be wishing the following salute. Dominic Caruso (2-3-99)

Naborr

1950-1977

To my son......., Madryborr

Come stand by me my son,...... closer,.... much closer,.. let me feel the whisk of your stubby tail on my hind quarter. Raise your nose to mine, smell me and allow me to smell you. Try to keep the scent of recognition alive for as long as you can, for as long as you can recall it, I will be with you.

Although the scent will surely fade with time and the memory diminish in body and blood I will be part of you. I will be part of you because you are I. Where ever you go, what ever you do, my blood will run through your veins. When you sleep, I will sleep. When you rise to stand I will stand. When you run I will feel the wind in your main.

My son, once you leave me you will never return. You will never again know this home. Be not sad, fear not for you will not need me nor will you need this home. You will find your own home. You will be honored.

You will grow strong of limb and high of spirit. The needs and wants of your heart will be young and sweet as the grass we stand on today. As long as you live, as long as you thrive, our blood line will continue. I will exist until the last of our foals stops breathing.

For you to understand what I am feeling, you will have to touch one of your own foals. You may not always recall today, but when you do, you will remember me. It will be then that I will be thinking of you. Most certainly you will remember me each time you touch a foal of your own. You will remember me and you will come to know what I know today.

So my son, my young stud, my young foal, the world awaits your intrusion. The world awaits your foals, it awaits your challenge. You are my son and you carry my life, my my dreams, my hopes. You are my son, you are the son of Naborr.

Plant you long lean limbs. Pull back your lean long neck, raise you defined head to the sky. Shake it too and fro and snort at the world and for the first time dig you hoofs into the green earth and leave your mark. Do it for yourself and once for me. Vio Con Dio...

God bless you my son, your father.

Naborr


Naborr
Madryborr, son of Naborr.
CLICK on photo for Naborr's web page.

copyright © 1999, property of Dominic Caruso, all rights reserved in reproduction, whole/part in any form.