A story from Paula Turner who raised Seattle Slew.

Black Stallion

The great black stallion moved restlessly under me, barely able to hold himself back, within my restraining reins. His head darted forward, yanking the reins and my arm. At the touch of my left hand on his shoulder, he slowed from a side-stepping jig to a prancing walk. “Easy babe, sloooow” my voice stretched, dropping to such a low note—more vibration than sound. Twitching his ears back, he relaxed a little. He would always listen—and understand—that voice he knew so well. Like a couple grown old together, more was said in touch, tone of voice, than with words.

And he transmitted to me in that ancient, unspoken language of Horse, everything he felt… “Now, now I must run.” Dancing under me, he so wanted to sweep me away, take us flying once again… and remind me who he was.

Beneath the glistening black coat powerful hindquarters bunched and flexed, bringing legs forward to coil and spring below his loins. I could feel the muscles in his arched neck, shoulders, sliding under his skin… under my soothing hand. Below my seat and legs he moved with the strength and grace of a ballerina—ready to take flight. His left ear cocked back, hearing the intimate whisper—“Easy big man, slooow…”—meant only for him. He slowed. Before I could say whoa, the stallion felt my request and halted—stood motionless—surveying his kingdom… I waited for him.
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