My brother Tim purchased Metat, due to he outgrew his ole POA gelding, Tex. Metat didn’t have the spunk like ole Tex did, so Mom ended up with her.
Mom liked Metat, due to how laid back she was, even as a two year old, which is when Tim got her. She didn’t have much of a buck to her. Just a rump up, that’s it. We all got a good laugh at that when we seen it, and Mom didn’t realize what she was doing. She only did it once.
Mom enjoyed trail riding her. She put lots of miles on her. Metat was one of those Appaloosas that never needed shoes. She had good old tough Appaloosa hooves.
I later got serious with the Appaloosa horse business. Mom let me have Metat transferred into my name. I bred Metat to a few select Appaloosa stallions. She was a good Momma to her foals. She had a total of four foals, all fillies. Her first filly was a solid chestnut, she later roaned out and got regular papers. Her second filly was a near chestnut leopard filly. Her last two foals were solid black.
In 1990, I decided to try to show Metat in the Missouri Regional Appaloosa clubs and associations, in Most Colorful at Halter. She did real good in the class. She got many year end awards in the clubs and associations here in Missouri, in Most Colorful at halter. She even qualified for the 1990 World Championship Appaloosa horse show for the class.
Anybody could ride Metat. She didn’t have a mean bone in her body, she loved people and all the attention.
Metat is now running pain free over the Rainbow Bridge, along with Widder’s Angel aka Angie, Tex, and many other horses and animals.
Metat, we all miss you. You brought us many happy times.
Love, Mom, Dad, Tim, & Donna
Prairie Joker Metat & her 1980 Filly
Mom and Jess on Prairie Joker Metat in 1983
Donna on Prairie Joker Metat in 1985
Prairie Jokers Metat and her 1988 Filly
Prairie Joker Metat and her 1992 Filly
Prairie Joker Metat and her 1992 Filly Playing
Mom on Prairie Joker Metat and Jess on Cashs' Yellow Rose
Metat and Rose were Best Friends and Unseperable
"God gave us memory, that we might have roses in December."
Thank you, Bobbie Hoernig for sharing this phrase.
Don't cry for the horses that life has set free.
A million white horses forever to be.
Don't cry for the horses now in God's hand.
As they dance and they prance in a heavenly band.
They were ours as a gift, but never to keep.
As they close their eyes forever to sleep.
Their spirits unbound. On silver wings they fly.
A million white horses against the blue sky.
Look up into heaven, you'll see them above.
The horses we lost, the horses we loved.
Manes and tails flowing they gallop through time.
They were never yours - they were never mine.
Don't cry for the horses. They'll be back someday.
When our time is gone, they will show us the way.
Do you hear that soft nicker? Close to your ear?
Don't cry for the horses. Love the ones that are here.
~Author Unknown~
Thank you Andi for sharing this with us.
This page was last updated: October 2, 2008
God's Heavenly Horses
Some folks picture Heaven as a mighty fine golf course.
If that's so , it's pasture for a special type of horse.
God's Word says they are white, and I reckon they won't sweat
almost white horse cause a lather on our shows she's not clean yet.
If there's any need..with God they'll be shod,
these special white horses belongin' to God.
They'll be trained to voice commands..to listen when ya speak,
there's no mention of saddles, do ya reckon they'll squeak?
What a trailride that'll be..saints all ridin' back together.
Don't take anything from this page without permission
Tim Laying on Prairie Joker Metat-1977
Rainbow Bridge
To Donna and Her Mother
In Memory of Metat
From Debbie Sloan
I’d never heard of Rainbow Bridge, but I was sure that it must be a bridge somewhere near Missouri. I envisioned a wooden bridge out in the middle of nowhere, maybe something like you might see in the movie “The Bridges of Madison County ®”.
A piece of folk history set somewhere just outside the city limits of a small town. In my minds eye, I vision a bridge early in the morning, situated perfectly along some hardened dirt road. The morning sun is peaking through the canopy of trees, and the bridge is covered with beads of morning dew. That’s probably how the bridge got its name, from the morning sun sending a kaleidoscope of colors across the shimmering dew. What a nice thought, but actually, I think I’ll ask Donna about the bridge the next time we talk. Rainbow Bridge I ask, where is it? And what is it about this bridge that brings such humble emotions among the people who speak her name? Rainbow Bridge, Donna replies, is the bridge that all horses cross on their journey from this life to the next. This bridge is where suffering ends and eternity begins. It is freedom and peace, green pastures and cold water. It is the bridge from earth to heaven. I never heard of it, but I can surely see it now. What a beautiful bridge it is. My thoughts rise above me and I can see the sickened horse, lying still in the hay. I feel dizzy and light-headed in a dream-state kind of way. I see the gentle stroke of the owner’s hand petting the face and neck of the horse with much love, and I see the owner’s head drop with much sorrow. As death nears, the horse feels the halter break away. Total darkness comes about like an eclipse, and then a brilliant light appears above the barn. The soul of the horse rises to her feet. She is standing in the middle of Rainbow Bridge. The wind lightly tosses her mane, and her tail sways softly in the direction of the light. She feels no pain. She raises her head high and stares far off into the fields of clover. Horses, hundreds of them, maybe thousands, as many as the eye can see, free, running gracefully in motion. Her eyes are fixed upon the herd and her hooves begin to click-clack slowly across the bridge. She stops, she listens, and then she sees…a friend from the past, and then another. She yells out to them and then stands perfectly still waiting for a reply. She hears it, and she recognizes it. She begins to move in the direction of the green fields, and then the call comes again from the herd, she runs. She’s tossing her head from side to side and she’s calling out joyfully to the herd. She appears as a yearling, with youth and stamina. No sign of illness or age whatsoever. She’s fading from my sight into the fields of clover. She’s in heaven, horse heaven. I whisper softly, go with God my beautiful horse, go with God, and I think to myself…someday, I will see you again.
Thank you, Debbie for this Wonderful Story
If it should be that I grow weak,
and pain should keep me from my sleep.
Then you must do what must be done,
for this last battle cannot be won.
You'll be sad I understand,
but don't let your grief stray your hand.
For this day more than all the rest,
your love for me must stand the test.
We've had so many happy years,
what is to come can hold no fears.
You'd not want me to suffer so;
the time has come, please let me go.
Take me where my needs they'll tend,
and please stay with me til the end.
Hold me steady and speak to me,
until my eyes no longer see.
I know in time that you will see,
the kindness that you did for me.
One more time please stroke my mane,
and know that I'll have no more pain.
Please do not grieve it must be you,
who has this painful thing to do.
We've been so close, we two, these years,
don't let your heart hold back it's tears.
I live now in your heart and mind,
a lovely place to stay.
And what you have in memories,
no one can take away.
Thank you, Patty~Spook
God Jumps
by Lauren Davis Baker
God gives us horses and compels some of us to love them. Yet why does the horse, an animal with such a big heart, live such a short life? Perhaps it's because if our horses lived any longer, we wouldn't be able to bear losing them. Or, perhaps it's because God wants to jump.
Perhaps God looks down on the fine horses we raise and decides when it's His turn to ride. He gives us a few good years to care for and learn from them, but when the time is right, it's up to us to see them off gracefully.
O.K., perhaps not gracefully. Blowing into a Kleenex is rarely graceful. But we can be grateful.
To have a horse in your life is a gift. In the matter of a few short years, a horse can teach a girl courage, if she chooses to grab mane and hang on for dear life.. Even the smallest of ponies is mightier than the tallest of girls. To conquer the fear of falling off, having one's toes crushed, or being publicly humiliated at a horse show is an admirable feat for any child. For that, we can be grateful.
Horses teach us responsibility. Unlike a bicycle—or a computer–a horse needs regular care and most of it requires that you get dirty and smelly and up off the couch. Choosing to leave your cozy kitchen to break the crust of ice off the water buckets is to choose responsibility. When our horses dip their noses and drink heartily, we know we've made the right choice.
Learning to care for a horse is both an art and a science. Some are easy keepers, requiring little more than regular turn-out, a flake of hay, and a trough of clean water. Others will test you—you'll struggle to keep them from being too fat or too thin. You'll have their feet shod regularly only to find shoes gone missing.. Some are so accident-prone you'll swear they're intentionally finding new ways to injure themselves.
If you weren't raised with horses, you can't know that they have unique personalities. You'd expect this from dogs, but horses? Indeed, there are clever horses, grumpy horses, and even horses with a sense of humor. Those prone to humor will test you by finding new ways to escape from the barn when you least expect it. I found one of ours on the front porch one morning, eating the cornstalks I'd carefully arranged as Halloween decorations.
Horses can be timid or brave, lazy or athletic, obstinate or willing. You will hit it off with some horses and others will elude you altogether. There are as many "types" of horses as there are people—which makes the whole partnership thing all the more interesting.
If you've never ridden a horse, you probably assume it's a simple thing you can learn in a weekend. You can, in fact, learn the basics on a Sunday—but to truly ride well takes a lifetime. Working with a living being is far more complex than turning a key in the ignition and putting the car in "drive."
In addition to listening to your instructor, your horse will have a few things to say to you as well. On a good day, he'll be happy to go along with the program and tolerate your mistakes; on a bad day, you'll swear he's trying to kill you. Perhaps he's naughty or perhaps he's fed up with how slowly you're learning his language.. Regardless, the horse will have an opinion. He may choose to challenge you (which can ultimately make you a better rider) or he may carefully carry you over fences—if it suit s him. It all depends on the partnership—and partnership is what it's all about.
If you face your fears, swallow your pride, and are willing to work at it, you'll learn lessons in courage, commitment, and compassion in addition to basic survival skills. You'll discover just how hard you're willing to work toward a goal, how little you know, and how much you have to learn. And, while some people think the horse "does all the work", you'll be challenged physically as well as mentally. Your horse may humble you completely. Or, you may find that sitting on his back is the closest you'll get to heaven.
You can choose to intimidate your horse, but do you really want to? The results may come more quickly but will your work ever be as graceful as that gained through trust? The best partners choose to listen, as well as to tell. When it works, we experience a sweet sense of accomplishment brought about by smarts, hard work, and mutual understanding between horse and rider. These are the days when you know with absolute certainty that your horse is enjoying his work.
If we make it to adulthood with horses still in our lives, most of us have to squeeze riding into our oversaturated schedules; balancing our need for things equine with those of our households and employers. There is never enough time to ride, or to ride as well as we'd like. Hours in the barn are stolen pleasures.
If it is in your blood to love horses, you share your life with them. Our horses know our secrets; we braid our tears into their manes and whisper our hopes into their ears. A barn is a sanctuary in an unsettled world, a sheltered place where life's true priorities are clear: a warm place to sleep, someone who loves us, and the luxury of regular meals. Some of us need these reminders.
When you step back, it's not just about horses—it's about love, life, and learning. On any given day, a friend is celebrating the birth of a foal, a blue ribbon, or recovery from an illness. That same day, there is also loss: a broken limb, a case of colic, a decision to sustain a life or end it gently. As horse people, we share the accelerated life cycle of horses: the hurried rush of life, love, loss, and death that caring for these animals brings us. When our partners pass, it is more than a moment of sorrow.
We mark our loss with words of gratitude for the ways our lives have been blessed. Our memories are of joy, awe, and wonder. Absolute union. We honor our horses for their brave hearts, courage, and willingness to give.
To those outside our circle, it must seem strange. To see us in our muddy boots, who would guess such poetry lives in our hearts? We celebrate our companions with praise worthy of heroes. Indeed, horses have the hearts of warriors and often carry us into and out of fields of battle.
Listen to stories of that once-in-a-lifetime horse; of journeys made and challenges met. The best of horses rise to the challenges we set before them, asking little in return.
Those who know them understand how fully a horse can hold a human heart. Together, we share the pain of sudden loss and the lingering taste of long-term illness. We shoulder the burden of deciding when or whether to end the life of a true companion.
In the end, we're not certain if God entrusts us to our horses or our horses to us. Does it matter? We're grateful God loaned us the horse in the first place. And so we pray:
Dear God,
After You've enjoyed a bit of jumping, please give our fine horses the best of care. And, if it's not too much, might we have at least one more good gallop when we meet again? Amen
Thank You, Heather Harmon for allowing me to add this to Metat's Memorial Page
Background Sound: Native American Song - Native Spirit
