The Birth of a Champion

The dark blue and purple clouds rolled slowly over the hills and valleys, as lightning displayed its entertaining and deadly dance in the sky. The strong winds broke mature tree branches and easily bent the young saplings, making the birds and animals scramble for shelter. Flashing intermittingly across the ominous sky, amazing display's of bright irregular bolts of lightning and loud thundering crashes shook the souls of everyone and startled the meek, making the horses in the pasture run for cover. The big house on the hill was outlined by clouds that mourned for light. Although it was the middle of day, the darkness of the storm made it feel like night. My mom was standing alone in the meadow at the time, and it was under these conditions I was born.

Race horses are born every day, but my birth was a highly expected event. I was sired by a National Champion and my birth was looked forward to with great anticipation. Although I was pelted by a seasonal storm when I first came into this world, the lightning dancing around me made me experience fear for the first time. My mom was the first thing I saw when I first opened my eyes, and my legs trembled underneath me as I stood up. She towered over me and gently nuzzled me while I tried to catch my balance, and then lovingly looked me in the eye while licking off the fluids from my birth, which were covered with rain. While other horses were running in fear from the lightning, she was very kind, duly nurturing and protecting me, making me feel more secure. As the warm and noisy storm slowly passed, the hot southern sun gradually shone on me with a brilliance that reflected in my mother's big black eyes. She looked down on me with a love that was genuine and hard to describe.

The rolling hills' of Kentucky are a wonderful place to live, especially if you are a race horse. The gentle hills are alive with luscious Kentucky Blue Grass and statuesque oak and magnolia trees with slight winds, so that when they blow, can stir the senses and make a horse's nostrils flare. This was horse country, and the farms were breeding grounds for the best in the world.

Roberta Windsor, the owner of Chestnut Mountain Farms, was a very nice woman and she soon rushed down to visit me with the farm's veterinarian. When she saw my beautiful red coat glistening in the sultry rain, she quickly named me Summer Storm. My first impression of her was of a very caring woman with a big heart. She and the farm's veterinarian examined me closely and said I looked healthy and that I was beautiful and had great confirmation. Roberta lived on the farm in a stately manor. It was a big brick, two-story colonial house with four white columns outlining a large porch that had a grandiose ceiling painted the right shade of blue, the colors of the farm. It sat prestigiously on a large meticulously landscaped knoll overlooking her realm. I heard people say the house was more than 150 years old, nestled in tall stately trees, with dogwoods and azaleas beautifully placed in the shadows. It looked like a beautiful European castle peering out when the fog would settle in and around the pastures below it. The house and area was rich in history, being built long before the Civil War.

Our farm was huge and consisted of about ten square miles with a tall white split-rail fence that surrounded and crisscrossed it every so often, separating one pasture from the other, one grazing area from the next. It had a racing facility too, with a full time contingent of jockeys, trainers and veterinarians on staff. It was one of the most famous horse farms in the world, having bred many champions. The long and winding asphalt driveway that led up the hill to her house was over a half a mile long and was lined with beautiful, tall cherry blossom trees that were beautiful and fragrant every spring. She would frequently walk over to my mom's paddock and admiringly say; "She is going to be a good one; look at how tall she is for her age." But even though everyone who saw me admired me, I never knew what she meant.

My mom nursed me and I would stay by her side all the time, whether in her stall or out in the meadow. I was too young to eat grass yet, so I would follow her everywhere and lay next to her when we slept. As I would grow, Mom would take care of me very well, always guiding and teaching me what I should know and what I should be aware of about life on the big farm that we lived on. Her name was Sultans Bride and she was a retired race horse, having been bred to my dad, Bold Czar, who was one of the greatest stallions that ever set foot on a race track. Dad lived on the farm too and was a champion chestnut Thoroughbred, standing an impressive seventeen hands tall. Mom was a white Arabian, with great confirmation. I got my long legs and my glowing, reddish color from Dad, and my white socks, upright tail and head, and my long mane from Mom. Some say I inherited my endurance and looks from my Arabian mom, while I got my speed, size, and heart from my dad. Regardless, everyone said I was the most beautiful filly they had ever seen.

As I got older, I would roam the large green pastures that surrounded our barn and always enjoyed running and playing with the other colts and fillies that lived here. I was always the fastest one, even outrunning the colts, some of which were older than me. Everyone said I was all legs, as I grew faster than the others and looked quite gangly when I was young. The long, wooden, white fence that corralled and outlined the farm seemed to meander for miles through the woods and green rolling hills, and we would run and play in them every day, exploring and visiting each part of our pasture. It was a fun time in my life; everyday brought out something new to do and new to see. Every day was exciting and stimulating to my senses, which seemed to get more refined on a daily basis.

Lauren, Roberta's daughter, was pretty too; she looked just like her mother. They both had blue eyes and long blonde hair. She was a petite seventeen years old, stood 5'2", and weighed about 100 pounds. She was still in high school and had a lot of friends, some of which played a big part in her life. My first impression of Lauren was a young woman with a soft voice. She had a big heart like her mother and was very kind and caring. She used to spend time with me every day when she got home from school, talking to me and combing and brushing me. She was taller than me then, but that didn't last very long, as I was growing fast. I always looked forward to her visits and would always give her my complete attention, as I could tell she really liked me and she liked spending time with me as much as I liked spending time with her. Of course, the treats she gave me were nice too.

When I was three...