Nancy Makowski
Owner/Breeder
HC 69 Box 48A
Rociada, NM 87742
Home: 505-425-9124
nancy.makowski@us.army.mil
Nancy Makowski
Owner/Breeder
HC 69 Box 48A
Rociada, NM 87742
Home: 505-425-9124
nancy.makowski@us.army.mil
| Horses for Sale Wondriano (Hann.) |
| Horses for Sale Wondriano (Hann.) |
| Horses for Sale Samba (Half Andalusian) |
| Horses for Sale Samba (Half Andalusian) |
Our Geldings
SHILOH
“Shiloh” is a 17-year-old 14.3H chestnut Quarter
Horse. He began life as a ranch horse, working
cattle in Arizona. When he retired from that life, he
became the adored pet of a teenage girl near Cave
Creek. Unfortunately for Shiloh, she had the best
of intentions but knew little about the needs of a
horse -- the need for companionship, the need to
wander, the need to graze. The girl kept him in a
small pen and only let him out to ride him. To make
things worse, she fed him a complete feed in
pelleted form which he could devour within five
minutes. This deprived him of the pleasure of
chewing hay. The isolation, inactivity, loneliness,
and stress of his living conditions caused him to
take up cribbing. He was called "Super Sport" --
for the large "SS" ranch brand on his left shoulder.
When the girl's family put Shiloh up for sale for
financial reasons, an acquaintance of my husband's
bought him for the sole purpose of hauling him from
Arizona to New Mexico for an elk-hunting
excursion. Shiloh dutifully and safely toted the
novice rider up and down mountains for five days.
One morning, the man mistakenly left the cinch too
loose, and while he was riding, the whole saddle
rotated around Shiloh's middle, with the man still
sitting in it! The man was so intent upon keeping
his new rifle from hitting the ground that he went
down with it.
Shiloh was a trooper. A mishap like that would
have caused most horses to head for the hills,
bucking madly to get the saddle off, but Shiloh
simply stopped and waited for the man to get up off
the ground, remove the upside-down saddle, and
put things right again.
But when the hunt was over, the man didn't want to
keep Shiloh; he would have had to haul Shiloh
across several states to take him home. He offered
to sell Shiloh to my husband for $1,000 -- half the
price he'd paid for him only a week earlier. Dave
said he couldn't afford to buy another horse. The
man asked if Dave would take Shiloh if he GAVE
him to us.
Since he was a reasonably sound and level-headed
mountain horse, Dave agreed to take him. We
renamed him "Shiloh." I had serious reservations
about allowing a cribber into my barn, especially
with impressionable youngsters around. But I
learned that, contrary to the prevailing wisdom,
cribbing isn't simply a habit horses take up to pass
the time when they're bored. They don't learn it
from watching others, and they cannot be cured of
it with punishment. It's a form of self-medication
for horses under such stress that they've
developed stomach ulcers. The gulping of air
releases endorphins in the brain, and the horse
becomes addicted to this distraction from pain.
Shiloh almost always cribs right after eating his
grain ration, and even a small sweet treat will
cause him to crib, which seems to confirm a
connection to gastric distress. His personality also
seems to fit the pattern -- he's a stalwart fellow
who seems to internalize his emotions instead of
acting upon them.
Sometimes cribbing can be reduced when the
ulcers are treated. In Shiloh's case, treating for
ulcers didn't seem to help. The cribbing addiction is
firmly ingrained.
When Shiloh became part of our herd in October
2006, he gained two friendly and laid-back mares
as buddies, the freedom to roam a 200-acre
pasture, a generous diet of grass and hay, and a
leisurely life of few demands, since my husband
and I seldom go on trail rides. Although his life is
much less stressful, he still cribs, even in the
pasture. I often see him cribbing on tree limbs that
happen to be at a convenient height.
His previous experiences have left their marks on
Shiloh in other ways. It's a certainty that the
cowboys treated him pretty roughly, without much
consideration for his feelings, and the well-
meaning teenage girl was unaware of the misery
she caused him. He suffered at the hands of
humans for years before he arrived at our
doorstep.
Anybody who endures abuse in such a way for a
long time would tend to become misanthropic.
Shiloh has no use for humans. His interest in
human beings extends only as far as the possibility
of food. He doesn't enjoy back-scratching, ear-
rubbing, or touch of any kind. He pins his ears and
waves his head as a warning when he feels
threatened -- if you brush him too hard, for
example. He seems to say, "I'm CRAZY -- leave
me alone!" Despite this, he has never actually
bitten or kicked us. He doesn't like being ridden,
but he stoically complies without bucking, balking,
or acting out in any other way.
We respect his desire for personal space, and try
not to bug him too much.
Far from being a bad influence on the youngsters,
furthermore, he has earned the nickname "Uncle
Shiloh," for he's a wonderful nanny. He'll share his
hay with the foals, and you can see a soft, gentle
expression in his relaxed ears and slow-blinking
eyes as they put their heads close together over a
pile of hay. Babies make him happy.
Shiloh has endless patience with them. When
Prairie was little, he would nibble at Shiloh's face
for hours, trying to goad Shiloh into a game of tag.
Shiloh was a saint to put up with this annoyance. .
Only occasionally would Shiloh grip the crest of
Prairie's neck in his teeth to set him straight.
Prairie is almost fully grown now, and Shiloh
doesn't put up with this kind of nonsense anymore.
As an adolescent, Prairie can be an even greater
annoyance to our newest foal, Samba. Shiloh
protects little Samba from Prairie's ceaseless
teasing. When Prairie turns to Samba to harass
her, Samba will run, not to her mother, but to
Shiloh's side. Shiloh will glare at Prairie
indignantly, then lunge at him, all crazy eyes and
big yellow teeth, and run Prairie off. He lets
Prairie know that Samba is off-limits.
He may be a misanthrope, but he has a kind soul.
One morning, I noticed Sukari and Shiloh standing
together near the barn. Sukari appeared to be
dozing in the morning sun, her eyelids fluttering.
Shiloh was next to her, and every so often, he'd
give her a leisurely bite on her shoulder -- not in an
aggressive way, but in a way that was almost
caressing. Sukari didn't seem to object.
As I looked more closely, it was apparent that
Sukari had rolled in a patch of prickly pear, and her
shoulder was bristling with cactus spines. Shiloh
was gently trying to pull them out with his teeth.
Sukari was cooperating with his efforts, allowing
him to bite at the painful barbs. She seemed to
understand that he was trying to help her.
Sometimes horses are more human than humans.
Shiloh has had a difficult past, but he has a
comfortable home with us now. As a bombproof
elk-hunting horse, we've priced him reasonably at
$2,000, but we would let him go only to a good
home, to people who understand horses such as he,
who have other horses and room to roam, who
would handle him with patience and kindness, and
who would provide him the comfortable home he
has earned.
SHILOH
“Shiloh” is a 17-year-old 14.3H chestnut Quarter
Horse. He began life as a ranch horse, working
cattle in Arizona. When he retired from that life, he
became the adored pet of a teenage girl near Cave
Creek. Unfortunately for Shiloh, she had the best
of intentions but knew little about the needs of a
horse -- the need for companionship, the need to
wander, the need to graze. The girl kept him in a
small pen and only let him out to ride him. To make
things worse, she fed him a complete feed in
pelleted form which he could devour within five
minutes. This deprived him of the pleasure of
chewing hay. The isolation, inactivity, loneliness,
and stress of his living conditions caused him to
take up cribbing. He was called "Super Sport" --
for the large "SS" ranch brand on his left shoulder.
When the girl's family put Shiloh up for sale for
financial reasons, an acquaintance of my husband's
bought him for the sole purpose of hauling him from
Arizona to New Mexico for an elk-hunting
excursion. Shiloh dutifully and safely toted the
novice rider up and down mountains for five days.
One morning, the man mistakenly left the cinch too
loose, and while he was riding, the whole saddle
rotated around Shiloh's middle, with the man still
sitting in it! The man was so intent upon keeping
his new rifle from hitting the ground that he went
down with it.
Shiloh was a trooper. A mishap like that would
have caused most horses to head for the hills,
bucking madly to get the saddle off, but Shiloh
simply stopped and waited for the man to get up off
the ground, remove the upside-down saddle, and
put things right again.
But when the hunt was over, the man didn't want to
keep Shiloh; he would have had to haul Shiloh
across several states to take him home. He offered
to sell Shiloh to my husband for $1,000 -- half the
price he'd paid for him only a week earlier. Dave
said he couldn't afford to buy another horse. The
man asked if Dave would take Shiloh if he GAVE
him to us.
Since he was a reasonably sound and level-headed
mountain horse, Dave agreed to take him. We
renamed him "Shiloh." I had serious reservations
about allowing a cribber into my barn, especially
with impressionable youngsters around. But I
learned that, contrary to the prevailing wisdom,
cribbing isn't simply a habit horses take up to pass
the time when they're bored. They don't learn it
from watching others, and they cannot be cured of
it with punishment. It's a form of self-medication
for horses under such stress that they've
developed stomach ulcers. The gulping of air
releases endorphins in the brain, and the horse
becomes addicted to this distraction from pain.
Shiloh almost always cribs right after eating his
grain ration, and even a small sweet treat will
cause him to crib, which seems to confirm a
connection to gastric distress. His personality also
seems to fit the pattern -- he's a stalwart fellow
who seems to internalize his emotions instead of
acting upon them.
Sometimes cribbing can be reduced when the
ulcers are treated. In Shiloh's case, treating for
ulcers didn't seem to help. The cribbing addiction is
firmly ingrained.
When Shiloh became part of our herd in October
2006, he gained two friendly and laid-back mares
as buddies, the freedom to roam a 200-acre
pasture, a generous diet of grass and hay, and a
leisurely life of few demands, since my husband
and I seldom go on trail rides. Although his life is
much less stressful, he still cribs, even in the
pasture. I often see him cribbing on tree limbs that
happen to be at a convenient height.
His previous experiences have left their marks on
Shiloh in other ways. It's a certainty that the
cowboys treated him pretty roughly, without much
consideration for his feelings, and the well-
meaning teenage girl was unaware of the misery
she caused him. He suffered at the hands of
humans for years before he arrived at our
doorstep.
Anybody who endures abuse in such a way for a
long time would tend to become misanthropic.
Shiloh has no use for humans. His interest in
human beings extends only as far as the possibility
of food. He doesn't enjoy back-scratching, ear-
rubbing, or touch of any kind. He pins his ears and
waves his head as a warning when he feels
threatened -- if you brush him too hard, for
example. He seems to say, "I'm CRAZY -- leave
me alone!" Despite this, he has never actually
bitten or kicked us. He doesn't like being ridden,
but he stoically complies without bucking, balking,
or acting out in any other way.
We respect his desire for personal space, and try
not to bug him too much.
Far from being a bad influence on the youngsters,
furthermore, he has earned the nickname "Uncle
Shiloh," for he's a wonderful nanny. He'll share his
hay with the foals, and you can see a soft, gentle
expression in his relaxed ears and slow-blinking
eyes as they put their heads close together over a
pile of hay. Babies make him happy.
Shiloh has endless patience with them. When
Prairie was little, he would nibble at Shiloh's face
for hours, trying to goad Shiloh into a game of tag.
Shiloh was a saint to put up with this annoyance. .
Only occasionally would Shiloh grip the crest of
Prairie's neck in his teeth to set him straight.
Prairie is almost fully grown now, and Shiloh
doesn't put up with this kind of nonsense anymore.
As an adolescent, Prairie can be an even greater
annoyance to our newest foal, Samba. Shiloh
protects little Samba from Prairie's ceaseless
teasing. When Prairie turns to Samba to harass
her, Samba will run, not to her mother, but to
Shiloh's side. Shiloh will glare at Prairie
indignantly, then lunge at him, all crazy eyes and
big yellow teeth, and run Prairie off. He lets
Prairie know that Samba is off-limits.
He may be a misanthrope, but he has a kind soul.
One morning, I noticed Sukari and Shiloh standing
together near the barn. Sukari appeared to be
dozing in the morning sun, her eyelids fluttering.
Shiloh was next to her, and every so often, he'd
give her a leisurely bite on her shoulder -- not in an
aggressive way, but in a way that was almost
caressing. Sukari didn't seem to object.
As I looked more closely, it was apparent that
Sukari had rolled in a patch of prickly pear, and her
shoulder was bristling with cactus spines. Shiloh
was gently trying to pull them out with his teeth.
Sukari was cooperating with his efforts, allowing
him to bite at the painful barbs. She seemed to
understand that he was trying to help her.
Sometimes horses are more human than humans.
Shiloh has had a difficult past, but he has a
comfortable home with us now. As a bombproof
elk-hunting horse, we've priced him reasonably at
$2,000, but we would let him go only to a good
home, to people who understand horses such as he,
who have other horses and room to roam, who
would handle him with patience and kindness, and
who would provide him the comfortable home he
has earned.
