He was a regal horse.  He wouldn't allow us to catch him, but he certainly was not afraid.  There was no doubt of his gender.  His sleek, muscular body and strong legs gave him the appearance of a stallion of 12, maybe 14 years of age.  With nostrils flaring he gave us "the look."   It was a fleeting moment in time, one to be cherished forever.  As the mares finished our gift of corn, he possessively led them all away.  They were gone with the wind.  After all, it was his world into which we had intruded.

He was born in the year 1970 to an aged red roan saddle mare name "Beauty."  They lived on a large working farm in Lowndes County, central Alabama, where the Spanish moss hung like lace from the trees.  Beauty produced strength, and the red roan colt came into the world without fanfare, expected to earn his keep.

He was a "using horse."  The first 19 years of his life were spent working cattle.  Herding, roping, cutting, and penning made for an honest day's work.  Red had a big heart.  He never gave up or gave out until the last cow was penned and last gate was shut.

He was an athlete.  Extremely sure-footed and swift, he would match the other cattlemen's horses stride for stride, and often got the best of them.  Then he would settle back into his smooth four-beat lateral gait, tireless for horse and rider.

Red's chest was broad, his back short and strong, with driving rear quarters that rippled with muscles.  His depth of stride and over-reach were tremendous.  With natural hooves of steel, Red never felt nippers or rasp.  He was never lame or sick, never mean or ill-tempered.  An easy disposition and a willingness to work were his virtues.

At the age of 19 years he sired his first colt.  A few local mare owners who knew of him brought their mares for pasture breeding.  One mare in particular was his favorite, a certain grey McCurdy mare with a spicy attitude.  He came thundering and nickering for her across the pastures as soon as he heard the rattle of her trailer bumping over the field road.  Many a happy day was spent by Red with the mares, colts, and cattle roaming the large acreage between Hayneville and Letohatchee.

Red was a worthy sire, stamping hiss offspring with his excellent attributes of body, mind and spirit.  He was consistent in what he sired, producing offspring much like himself.

Big Red lived the life that most horses only dream of.  He was never pampered and lived his life amidst the elements.  He earned his keep and was well kept.

Red's day's are no more, but his blood continues to flow through the few that he left behind.  No doubt his life was spent in harmony with God, nature and his owner whom he served with his big heart.  Big Red was a "using horse" and worthy of tribute.