Akhal Teke UK
Altai's Memoir
Altai (by Karaburgut, out of Alykly), Kaplan line, was born on 25th May 1995 in
Graefendorf, Germany, at Sabine Toepfer-Gebert's Stud Farm "Hofgut Hurzfurt". He came to
England on 31st May 2000 to live in Devon. In 2003 he competed under the rules of
Endurance GB, completing six Graded rides and one training ride and qualified to
Intermediate Level. He did not excel in other disciplines but gave many pony rides to children
ranging from 18 months to teenagers. On November 3rd 2003 he sustained a serious injury to
his off-fore tendon and, due to poor prognosis, the decision was made to put him down. His
sire Karaburgut died in 2001. His dam Alykly was used as a broodmare at Hofgut Hurzfurt
until 2004 when she died on the day she gave birth to her last foal. She was twenty three. The
filly was raised successfully raised on artificial milk and lives in Germany. Altai has full and half
siblings in Germany and the US, including Askari (at Stud at Hofgut Hurzfurt), Ankara
(broodmare and riding horse in Southern California), El Nino (riding horse in Munich),
Ashanti (riding horse in Germany) and many others.
Part I - From the Horse’s Mouth.
It’s now 18 months since I came to the New Place. I like it: plenty going on, grass is good,
they add something called “haylage” to my hay – wicked stuff! The bed is tasty too. The
people talk to me. I particularly like the Farmer’s Wife – something about her that makes you
swallow your wormer quicker and walk into the narrowest of trailers.
When I first came here, I went out in a field full of ponies – chasing them was good fun.
Unfortunately, one pony complained and that was the end of that. Next day they put me out
with the Mare-To-Be-Feared. At first I had to watch out - she could be a mean girl at times,
but I soon charmed her. Then, just as I thought to myself “I now have my mare!” they put
another one in with us. I couldn’t believe my luck: two is almost a herd! So I felt the time was
right to get on with it. The new mare was young and cuddly, a lovely girl she was. Only one
day, when I was really enjoying myself, in comes the Farmer’s Wife – the one I thought was
my friend! – and threatens me with a big broomstick. Well, I had no choice than to get off -
so disappointing. Next came someone called The Vet. Strangely enough, I quite liked him
too, so I didn’t mind too much when he began sticking needles in my neck. The Vet told
everyone afterwards that my lovely mare won’t have a foal, but I still think – they just didn’t
give me a chance.
After that, I had to go out on my own for a long time but then one day a big chap called
Doughty came into my field. Doughty is a good sort: admittedly, he is not a mare (he would
be too high for me anyway – having said that, I am now 16,2hh so I could’ve had a go) but
once in a while he lets me chase him. He is also good to bite – there is a lot of meat on
Doughty. The same cannot be said of me. But most of the time, he prefers to eat in the field. I
can’t understand that. As if food in life was everything. I don’t think food is everything: I like
to kick, rather than eat, my breakfast, and poo into my hay (after I had picked out the
haylage) and eat my bed to annoy Maria.
I have done a few interesting things since I came here. Last Spring I got to go Hunting. Head-
spinning stuff! Lots of opportunities to chase ponies! (Is that why the Government wants to
ban it?) The first time I went with Lieutenant Jerry. Got him off from a stand-still while he was
having a chat with a lady but he didn’t mind. The second time went with Maria and tried to
roll – Maria, saddle and all – but then got distracted by the opportunities to chase ponies.
Then, in the Autumn Maria and I went hunting again. This time I cracked it: the thing to do is
to buck on a steep downhill, get Maria off, get across the valley – FAST – and start chasing
the ponies. Did that twice. Only the second time the Farmer’s Son jumped off his pony and
caught me by the reins. I used to think he was my friend too but I am beginning to realise
nothing in this life is black-and-white. My father was black-and-white but he died last year.
He was a racehorse.
I am a racehorse too. I realised this when we went for a gallop in a field with a chap called
Rupert. Rupert used to be a racehorse but he ran away with his jockeys a few times and they
gave him away. Rupert is fast… but so am I.
Lately Maria and I started doing something called “Endurance”. You go in a trailer to a
strange place and get to chase ponies for hours on end! On route you get to meet Maria’s
husband Nigel with a bucket of sugar beet water and our President Sue Waldock with a big
yellow sponge. Here is my personal guide to Things You Can Do While on a Graded Ride, or
Having Fun with Endurance, for short:
1) After you have walked into a trailer but before they have shut the ramp on you pull
hard on the ring, break the rope and bolt out backwards.
2) During the vetting, throw your head up and sideways sharp to stop the Vet from
looking into your mouth. If done persistently, this will result in being vetted out of a Graded
Ride and getting Maria annoyed – always worth the effort!
3) During the farrier check-up, reach over and bite the farrier's behind (you need a long
Teke neck to be able to do that).
4) On a ride, as soon as you see a ponytail lurking in the distance (they are all ponies in
Endurance), break into a mad gallop and pretend you are about to overtake the pony, then
slow down at the last minute and trail behind it. Slow down to walk until the tail disappears
around the corner, then break into a mad gallop again and repeat the exercise.
5) Don’t waste time on a Graded Ride by jumping up and sideways to avoid plastic bags
or make 90-degree turns unexpectedly in the middle of an open field – there are plenty of
opportunities to do this at home.
As well as Endurance, we still occasionally get a visit from the No-Nonsense Lady, otherwise
known as Go-On-The-Bit Lady. Some days I just get tired trying to make life interesting and
do what I am told. I must be getting old.
It might be my imagination but I think Maria is getting heavier these days. I have heard them
talking about me having a holiday. I also heard them mention the Junior Riders’ Squad. I
wonder if that’s where you get your best chance to chase ponies…
Part II - My Life as a Cow
It's all well and good chasing ponies, but everything is good in moderation. (I never thought I
would say that!) Last two rides we did involved me taking first Jerry and then Maria around
more or less the same 35-mile stretch of Bodmin Moor. The only difference was that Jerry
liked Cornish scenery and Maria didn't but that's neither here nor there. The truth is - I just
had enough! On the last ride, it was hot, the saddle rubbed my back and we got lost. I told
Maria I wasn't playing. She jumped off, we let three ponies gallop away ahead of us and just
walked like civilised citizens. Apparently, they awarded me something called "Time Penalty
Points" but I checked afterwards: they weren't in my sugar-beet water, so they couldn't have
been that important.
After that my life changed: I never went back to my stable in Cullompton. Instead, they put
me out in the field on The Farm. My first field was square and very steep. It was bare, with
no trees, and from the top you could see for miles around. I could see two white spots on the
hills across the valley: I knew they were ponies but there was no way I could chase them. The
Second Field had nine white spots: they looked fluffy, smelled Different and were VERY
chaseable. One of them ended up in the hedge shaking like a leaf and when Nigel came and
started talking about "My Rams!!!", I realised I did something wrong. I was never allowed in
the Second Field again after that. That evening they let me into the Third Field.
Firstly, I went to have a drink from a big trough. Then I looked up and there were lots of Big
Ponies. I trotted up amongst them and it turned out they weren't ponies at all. There were nine
Big Ladies with large wet noses and long eye lashes, can't say I found them "attractive" in that
sense but they smelled Pleasant and looked respectful. As well as the Big Ladies, there were
nine pony-calves: they came to groom me and I just stopped myself from chasing them that
time. Later on, when I became part of their family, we all chased each other but there were no
complaints from anyone, and they knew who was the boss (it wasn't any of them!), and I got
to like them more and more. Every other day Nigel came on his tractor (I had always liked
tractors) with a large bale of smelly hay which we all ate together. By then we moved to the
Four Fields. It took me days to walk around them all and get my bearings. There were many
good things to eat (Maria taught me how to pick blackberries), there was a stream, windy
places, sheltered places, high places and low places. There were many moving things which
weren't ponies: little grey things with long ears and short tails, bigger reddish things with short
ears and long tails, big slow stripey things with no tails, and fast hoppety things with horns
whom I couldn't catch! The Bottom Field had a gate and across the road from it lived two
chaps I was always dying to meet. Someone called Alison came to talk to me over the gate
and told me the chaps were called Matty and Manny. I had other visitors too: one of them
told Maria I looked like a Siamese Cat. The things people say!
At one point my feet got all sore and I told Maria I didn't want to go for a walk up the road.
The vet came and checked my feet and told me to go away and have more blackberries, so I
did. Then my feet weren't sore anymore and it started raining. I hid behind the big ladies when
the wind blew water into my face and neck but I got wet all the same. On Sunday it was
warm and sunny and I had a chance to dry out. I came into the yard and got to walk around it
in my stable rug WITHOUT my headcollar and to sniff EVERYTHING. I have always liked
sniffing. That Sunday was a great day: visitors came to look at ME (and other things), Maria
scratched my neck for AGES and I watched Nigel chasing fluffy things around the covered
yard (I hadn't realised PEOPLE liked chasing too!). In the evening they put a neck cover on
me - yes, that one which rubbed off my mane two years ago - and let me out into the Third
Field. I knew it was going to rain. In the night I had a bit of an altercation with that neck
cover, got it off in the end but scratched myself a bit in the process. Wasn't a big deal, I didn't
think.
In the morning, Nigel gave me some food and brought me into the stable. Then Maria came
and told me to stand still while she held the hose over my legs. I made sure I didn't but she
wouldn't give up with that hose. Then the New Vet came: didn't know him from Adam, so I
thought I would show him how you toss your head at a Graded Ride Vetting. He was
impressed, I know he was, but then I can't remember, something happened, he stuck a needle
into me, I think. I felt sleepy as hell, nearly had to lie down but they held my leg up, so I
couldn't really. When I came round, the Vet was gone but the trailer arrived instead. I did my
usual but not for long, went in, bolted out half-an-hour later and found myself in a Funny
Place: the floor was clean, the stable had a bed in it which you couldn't eat if you tried and I
saw myself in the mirror. Then more New Vets came and got hold of my ears, and my neck,
and my legs and stuck needles into me and I felt sleepy as hell, and I know Maria was there
but I couldn't really care and why did she let them touch my ears anyway, and then I felt even
more sleepy and then it got dark, dark dark…
Altai (by Karaburgut, out of Alykly), Kaplan line, was born on 25th May 1995 in
Graefendorf, Germany, at Sabine Toepfer-Gebert's Stud Farm "Hofgut Hurzfurt". He came to
England on 31st May 2000 to live in Devon. In 2003 he competed under the rules of
Endurance GB, completing six Graded rides and one training ride and qualified to
Intermediate Level. He did not excel in other disciplines but gave many pony rides to children
ranging from 18 months to teenagers. On November 3rd 2003 he sustained a serious injury to
his off-fore tendon and, due to poor prognosis, the decision was made to put him down. His
sire Karaburgut died in 2001. His dam Alykly was used as a broodmare at Hofgut Hurzfurt
until 2004 when she died on the day she gave birth to her last foal. She was twenty three. The
filly was raised successfully raised on artificial milk and lives in Germany. Altai has full and half
siblings in Germany and the US, including Askari (at Stud at Hofgut Hurzfurt), Ankara
(broodmare and riding horse in Southern California), El Nino (riding horse in Munich),
Ashanti (riding horse in Germany) and many others.
Part I - From the Horse’s Mouth.
It’s now 18 months since I came to the New Place. I like it: plenty going on, grass is good,
they add something called “haylage” to my hay – wicked stuff! The bed is tasty too. The
people talk to me. I particularly like the Farmer’s Wife – something about her that makes you
swallow your wormer quicker and walk into the narrowest of trailers.
When I first came here, I went out in a field full of ponies – chasing them was good fun.
Unfortunately, one pony complained and that was the end of that. Next day they put me out
with the Mare-To-Be-Feared. At first I had to watch out - she could be a mean girl at times,
but I soon charmed her. Then, just as I thought to myself “I now have my mare!” they put
another one in with us. I couldn’t believe my luck: two is almost a herd! So I felt the time was
right to get on with it. The new mare was young and cuddly, a lovely girl she was. Only one
day, when I was really enjoying myself, in comes the Farmer’s Wife – the one I thought was
my friend! – and threatens me with a big broomstick. Well, I had no choice than to get off -
so disappointing. Next came someone called The Vet. Strangely enough, I quite liked him
too, so I didn’t mind too much when he began sticking needles in my neck. The Vet told
everyone afterwards that my lovely mare won’t have a foal, but I still think – they just didn’t
give me a chance.
After that, I had to go out on my own for a long time but then one day a big chap called
Doughty came into my field. Doughty is a good sort: admittedly, he is not a mare (he would
be too high for me anyway – having said that, I am now 16,2hh so I could’ve had a go) but
once in a while he lets me chase him. He is also good to bite – there is a lot of meat on
Doughty. The same cannot be said of me. But most of the time, he prefers to eat in the field. I
can’t understand that. As if food in life was everything. I don’t think food is everything: I like
to kick, rather than eat, my breakfast, and poo into my hay (after I had picked out the
haylage) and eat my bed to annoy Maria.
I have done a few interesting things since I came here. Last Spring I got to go Hunting. Head-
spinning stuff! Lots of opportunities to chase ponies! (Is that why the Government wants to
ban it?) The first time I went with Lieutenant Jerry. Got him off from a stand-still while he was
having a chat with a lady but he didn’t mind. The second time went with Maria and tried to
roll – Maria, saddle and all – but then got distracted by the opportunities to chase ponies.
Then, in the Autumn Maria and I went hunting again. This time I cracked it: the thing to do is
to buck on a steep downhill, get Maria off, get across the valley – FAST – and start chasing
the ponies. Did that twice. Only the second time the Farmer’s Son jumped off his pony and
caught me by the reins. I used to think he was my friend too but I am beginning to realise
nothing in this life is black-and-white. My father was black-and-white but he died last year.
He was a racehorse.
I am a racehorse too. I realised this when we went for a gallop in a field with a chap called
Rupert. Rupert used to be a racehorse but he ran away with his jockeys a few times and they
gave him away. Rupert is fast… but so am I.
Lately Maria and I started doing something called “Endurance”. You go in a trailer to a
strange place and get to chase ponies for hours on end! On route you get to meet Maria’s
husband Nigel with a bucket of sugar beet water and our President Sue Waldock with a big
yellow sponge. Here is my personal guide to Things You Can Do While on a Graded Ride, or
Having Fun with Endurance, for short:
1) After you have walked into a trailer but before they have shut the ramp on you pull
hard on the ring, break the rope and bolt out backwards.
2) During the vetting, throw your head up and sideways sharp to stop the Vet from
looking into your mouth. If done persistently, this will result in being vetted out of a Graded
Ride and getting Maria annoyed – always worth the effort!
3) During the farrier check-up, reach over and bite the farrier's behind (you need a long
Teke neck to be able to do that).
4) On a ride, as soon as you see a ponytail lurking in the distance (they are all ponies in
Endurance), break into a mad gallop and pretend you are about to overtake the pony, then
slow down at the last minute and trail behind it. Slow down to walk until the tail disappears
around the corner, then break into a mad gallop again and repeat the exercise.
5) Don’t waste time on a Graded Ride by jumping up and sideways to avoid plastic bags
or make 90-degree turns unexpectedly in the middle of an open field – there are plenty of
opportunities to do this at home.
As well as Endurance, we still occasionally get a visit from the No-Nonsense Lady, otherwise
known as Go-On-The-Bit Lady. Some days I just get tired trying to make life interesting and
do what I am told. I must be getting old.
It might be my imagination but I think Maria is getting heavier these days. I have heard them
talking about me having a holiday. I also heard them mention the Junior Riders’ Squad. I
wonder if that’s where you get your best chance to chase ponies…
Part II - My Life as a Cow
It's all well and good chasing ponies, but everything is good in moderation. (I never thought I
would say that!) Last two rides we did involved me taking first Jerry and then Maria around
more or less the same 35-mile stretch of Bodmin Moor. The only difference was that Jerry
liked Cornish scenery and Maria didn't but that's neither here nor there. The truth is - I just
had enough! On the last ride, it was hot, the saddle rubbed my back and we got lost. I told
Maria I wasn't playing. She jumped off, we let three ponies gallop away ahead of us and just
walked like civilised citizens. Apparently, they awarded me something called "Time Penalty
Points" but I checked afterwards: they weren't in my sugar-beet water, so they couldn't have
been that important.
After that my life changed: I never went back to my stable in Cullompton. Instead, they put
me out in the field on The Farm. My first field was square and very steep. It was bare, with
no trees, and from the top you could see for miles around. I could see two white spots on the
hills across the valley: I knew they were ponies but there was no way I could chase them. The
Second Field had nine white spots: they looked fluffy, smelled Different and were VERY
chaseable. One of them ended up in the hedge shaking like a leaf and when Nigel came and
started talking about "My Rams!!!", I realised I did something wrong. I was never allowed in
the Second Field again after that. That evening they let me into the Third Field.
Firstly, I went to have a drink from a big trough. Then I looked up and there were lots of Big
Ponies. I trotted up amongst them and it turned out they weren't ponies at all. There were nine
Big Ladies with large wet noses and long eye lashes, can't say I found them "attractive" in that
sense but they smelled Pleasant and looked respectful. As well as the Big Ladies, there were
nine pony-calves: they came to groom me and I just stopped myself from chasing them that
time. Later on, when I became part of their family, we all chased each other but there were no
complaints from anyone, and they knew who was the boss (it wasn't any of them!), and I got
to like them more and more. Every other day Nigel came on his tractor (I had always liked
tractors) with a large bale of smelly hay which we all ate together. By then we moved to the
Four Fields. It took me days to walk around them all and get my bearings. There were many
good things to eat (Maria taught me how to pick blackberries), there was a stream, windy
places, sheltered places, high places and low places. There were many moving things which
weren't ponies: little grey things with long ears and short tails, bigger reddish things with short
ears and long tails, big slow stripey things with no tails, and fast hoppety things with horns
whom I couldn't catch! The Bottom Field had a gate and across the road from it lived two
chaps I was always dying to meet. Someone called Alison came to talk to me over the gate
and told me the chaps were called Matty and Manny. I had other visitors too: one of them
told Maria I looked like a Siamese Cat. The things people say!
At one point my feet got all sore and I told Maria I didn't want to go for a walk up the road.
The vet came and checked my feet and told me to go away and have more blackberries, so I
did. Then my feet weren't sore anymore and it started raining. I hid behind the big ladies when
the wind blew water into my face and neck but I got wet all the same. On Sunday it was
warm and sunny and I had a chance to dry out. I came into the yard and got to walk around it
in my stable rug WITHOUT my headcollar and to sniff EVERYTHING. I have always liked
sniffing. That Sunday was a great day: visitors came to look at ME (and other things), Maria
scratched my neck for AGES and I watched Nigel chasing fluffy things around the covered
yard (I hadn't realised PEOPLE liked chasing too!). In the evening they put a neck cover on
me - yes, that one which rubbed off my mane two years ago - and let me out into the Third
Field. I knew it was going to rain. In the night I had a bit of an altercation with that neck
cover, got it off in the end but scratched myself a bit in the process. Wasn't a big deal, I didn't
think.
In the morning, Nigel gave me some food and brought me into the stable. Then Maria came
and told me to stand still while she held the hose over my legs. I made sure I didn't but she
wouldn't give up with that hose. Then the New Vet came: didn't know him from Adam, so I
thought I would show him how you toss your head at a Graded Ride Vetting. He was
impressed, I know he was, but then I can't remember, something happened, he stuck a needle
into me, I think. I felt sleepy as hell, nearly had to lie down but they held my leg up, so I
couldn't really. When I came round, the Vet was gone but the trailer arrived instead. I did my
usual but not for long, went in, bolted out half-an-hour later and found myself in a Funny
Place: the floor was clean, the stable had a bed in it which you couldn't eat if you tried and I
saw myself in the mirror. Then more New Vets came and got hold of my ears, and my neck,
and my legs and stuck needles into me and I felt sleepy as hell, and I know Maria was there
but I couldn't really care and why did she let them touch my ears anyway, and then I felt even
more sleepy and then it got dark, dark dark…
©Black Fox 2007-2008
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