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SHE WAS born in Maryland in 1962 but since mid-1965 Rappahannock had been her home. Her original owner-breeder thought so little of her that though a wealthy man he abandoned her to her Charlestown trainer in payment of the training bill. She was barely three years old at the time. Tall and skinny, she fretted in the constant confinement of the race track.
Raced at two and three, not once did she place or show any promise. By the middle of 1965 she was that typical, hopeless reject from the race track—a burden on her owner, an embarassment to her trainer, too strong and nervous for a pleasure horse, too young and unschooled for a hunter and not good enough looking for a show horse. Yet there was that “look of the eagles” about her and a graceful, beautiful “way of going.”
That is what got her a one way ticket on an old horse trailer heading for the Old Kennels at Flint Hill. She spent the rest of 1965 getting acquainted with the Rappahannock hills, eating good grass in the pastures and wading the Jordan river. Foxhunting was the natural sequel. She was a keen follower and enjoyed “the sport” with Rappahannock, Old Dominion, Warrenton and Casanova Hunts.
IN THE three years after her liberation from the race track routine she took part in horse
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