The ancient Barb had its origins in Middle Asia. In fact, it was first established in the Fertile Crescent, which is is a crescent-shaped region containing the moist and fertile land of Western Asia and the Nile Valley and Nile Delta of northeast Africa. This must have been the ideal environment to raise horses in ancient times as the Barb thrived in the arid conditions.
The Berbers were the first people to use the Barb as both a mount and a war horse. They favored this breed so much that they took it with them as they conquered the lands around them. When they left a region, some of their horses were inevitably left behind and eventually bred with native stock. This founded several different breed throughout the area, some of which are still popular today.
Highly desired as a war horse, the Barb spread quickly throughout Europe and Asia. They remained the most plentiful along the northern coast of Africa. This was a rather central location for the breed and allowed many different countries and cultures access to them. The Moors used them to invade Spain. The Conquistadors took them to the New World where the Aboriginal people took advantage of their speed and stamina.
Throughout all of this, the Barb horse was mixing and mingling with other breeds along the way. The Thoroughbred, American Quarter Horse, Standardbred, and Mustang are among the breeds that have been influenced by Barb blood running through their veins. Unfortunately, there are few pure Barbs left in the world. Most of them were gathered up by Barb Horse Registry founder Richard Painter in the 1950s in an attempt to reestablish the breed. This effort has met with limited success.
The Barb is a stocky breed standing from 13.2 to 15 hands high. Its colors are many, but most common are palomino and dun. The Barb differs physically from most other breeds in that it has fewer lumbar vertebrae and only sixteen or seventeen ribs rather than the more common eighteen.
This ancient breed is known for its stamina and its loyalty to its rider. Today, the International Society for the Preservation of the Barb Horse & Barb Horse Registry makes an effort to preserve this horse that could be considered endangered.
After weeks of articles and facts, I thought I'd change things up a bit with a story about a horse I once knew. Every word of this story happened just as I say it does. I didn't have to invent anything here to make the story entertaining! Justin was entertaining enough for more than one story.
Justin was my older sister's Arabian and her very first horse. She adopted him from a ranch when I was 8 years old. My parents didn't pay much for him since he was aging and the ranch wasn't going to use him on trail rides anymore. He was grey and sweet and the center of my sister's world for many years.
But he was no angel and my mother was usually the one he caused problems for (usually ... but that's a story for another week). One hot summer day Justin, I guess because he was bored, opened the gate to his corral. Now, before you start thinking that my sister or my parents should have secured the gate, they did. They had it padlocked. The boys from next door, lovely neighbors that they were, snuck onto our property and cut off the padlock. We'd later find it in the grass next to the corral. The boys didn't actually open the corral, but removing the lock was more than enough for Justin.
In his equine way, Justin loosened the latch and let himself out. He wandered for a while, as evidenced by the state of the yard and garden behind the main house. He kicked up his heels on the freshly-laid sod, even pulled some of it around the yard by his teeth. This would annoy my father when he returned home, but not as much as what Justin did to the garden. Forget the corn. Justin had eaten it. What he hadn't eaten he'd scattered as he galloped merrily through the garden. The peas (which were my favorite) were trampled. I'd cry about this later (give me a break, I was 8). The radishes were pulverized. Justin never did like radishes.
He never left the yard, but he didn't have to. He had his fun without setting one foot off our property. Besides the damage to the lawn and garden, our play structure no longer had a roof. It originally had a colorful tarp stretched over the tree house section of the structure. Apparently Justin didn't approve of the tarp. He tore it off and ran around with it, eventually depositing it among the straw in the corner of his corral. It had been quite soiled by the time we found it, so my father built us a wooden roof that weekend. Justin also pulled the chain link away from one of the sides of the dog run. Good thing the dogs weren't in there at the time.
We were lucky that Justin hadn't decided to go for a run. We weren't all that far from a busy highway and it was entirely possible that he could have been hit on the road. It would have been a tragedy, but Justin wasn't that stupid. Nope, he stayed close to home, slowly edging his way closer to the house as he ran out of things to do in the back.
He eventually found himself in my mother's flower garden which was right next to the house. She had a lovely garden. Honeysuckle grew at the back and ferns and other greenery graced the entryway. Wisteria covered the trellis and roses bloomed everywhere. At least, until Justin got in there. He rather enjoyed the roses and the honeysuckle. He must have, for he consumed most of them. He wasn't as fond of the ferns and the wisteria, but that didn't mean he left them alone. No, he tore the wisteria off the trellis and scattered the ferns to the four winds. He had a great time.
In fact, he was just tearing the wisteria off the trellis when my mother came outside to hang laundry on the line. She saw him there, standing beneath the trellis, wisteria clutched between his teeth, and dropped the basket of wet laundry. My younger sister and I heard her cry out and rushed outside, wondering what mouse or rat had startled her. No rat. No mouse. But one big horse.
Justin looked back over his shoulder at us and he looked ... guilty as sin. There's no other way to describe the look on his face. He stared straight at my mother the same way my little sister used to when she got caught sneaking cookies. Except this was a horse, just over 15 hands high, with a head as long as my mother's torso.
He might not have been a child, but he certainly acted like one as my mother's face turned red. She stared right at him at uttered one word, barely able to speak.
"Barn."
Justin gazed at her mournfully, as if insulted that she'd interrupted his fun. But he dutifully headed in the direction of the barn (I had originally typed 'bar' there, which probably would have been way more fun for Justin. It's almost too bad that I caught that typo.)
"No," my mother snapped. Justin stopped in his tracks. "Let. Go. Of. My. Plant." You could tell just from her tone and they way the syllables fell from her lips that each word was its own sentence.
Staring at her as if she was the rudest human in the world, Justin let go. You never could say that Justin was stupid. He knew what she meant. The wisteria snapped back into place, rather the worse for wear. And with a flick of his tail and a kick of his heels, Justin strode into the barn without another glance at my mother.
She followed him. And my younger sister and I, curious to the last, snuck up and hid behind the barn door so we were just out of sight. What followed was nothing less than a lecture. And to a horse!
"Did you eat my flowers?" As if she didn't already know the answer.
A nicker. And, according to my mother, a nodding of Justin's great head.
"Who told you you could go into my flower garden?" No one actually gave Justin permission to do anything.
A whinny. I think my little sister giggled, but if she did, she muffled it quickly.
"Keep your horsey ass," I gasped in shock here as I'd never heard my mother use profanity, "out of my flower garden." My mother slammed the door to his stall with a thump and dropped the latch into place. "And stay put."
As my mother stormed out of the barn to collect her laundry, my sister and I ducked behind a rain barrel. By this point, we were both trying not to laugh. But we sobered quickly on seeing the damage behind the house. Our father would no be pleased.
When my older sister returned from school that evening, she had an even longer lecture than Justin had received. Of course, this was before anyone had found the cut lock near the corral. But none of the damage was all that bad and everything went back to normal.
At least until the next time Justin decided to get up to more mischief ...
The Arabian is one of the most beautiful and oldest breeds in the world. The first documented breeders of these horses were the nomadic Bedouin tribes of northern Arabia. The Arabians and their Bedouin keepers were constant companions. The Bedouin, due to both the harsh climate and religious beliefs, shared food, water, and shelter with their horses. These factors probably contributed to the Arabian's social nature and helped them thirve in what might have been a dangerous climate.
Religious wars eventually erupted throughout what we now call the Middle East. The Arabian began to make its way to Europe and other areas of the world. The European crusaders who first encountered the Arabian crossed this lighter horse with their own heavier mounts. These crosses have influenced almost every breed that exists today. Most breeds can trace their lineage to the Middle Ages and the crosses the knights of the Crusades chose.
Arabians didn't come to North America until approximately 1725. They were imported into Virginia by Nathan Harrison, but it wasn't until 1908 that an official registry was created specifically for the Arabian Horse. There are more Arabians living in the United States than any country in the world. It might be said that Americans have a fetish for these striking horses. They are found in most equestrian events today, though they are most popular in the long-distance sport of endurance due to their stamina.
There is no mistaking the look of the Arabian. Their distinctive profile and giant wide-set eyes set them apart from other breeds. They have a broad forehead, large nostrils, and small ears with a slight curve to them. Their backs are rather short but their necks are beautifully arched. The Arabian is a light breed with a delicate structure and an easy gait. They typically stand from 14 to 15.3 hands high and are found in several colors. These colors are limited to chestnut, bay, gray, black and roan.
If you're looking for a breed that blends the best qualities of the American Quarter Horse with the Thoroughbred, the Appendix Quarter Horse just might be the horse for you. This breed has its origins in the 1940s when the American Quarter Horse Association was formed. During this time, there was much confusion and debate over what, exactly, a Quarter Horse was and how they should be standardized.
One of the many proposed solutions was to grade each horse, labeling them as A, B, C, or D. This never actually happened, but the American Appendix Quarter Horse Association was born from this idea. The horse that would have been a "C" became the Appendix Quarter Horse. Essentially, this is a horse with one Quarter Horse parent and one Thoroughbred parent.
The addition of Thoroughbred blood into Quarter Horse lines enhanced the refinement of the Quarter Horse, giving it the look it has today. But many Quarter Horse enthuasists maintain that Thoroughbred blood is still required to maintain the beauty and elegance of the Quarter Horse. This is where the Appendix Quarter Horse comes in.
Today, you will find the Appendix Quarter Horse in racing as well as in a variety of English and western disciplines. This horse comes in a variety of colors (sorrel, bay, black, brown, buckskin, chestnut, dun, red dun, gray, grullo, palomino, red roan, blue roan, bay roan, perlino and cremello) and stands from 15 to 17 hands high.
