Amazon Clifford of Drummond Island Category:  Pets/Pet Care Publisher: iUniverse ISBN-10:  0595179509 Type: Non-Fiction Copyright: June 2001 ISBN-13: 9780595179503 The true story of a horse with a sense of humor! The story begins when the author's first horse dies. Grief stricken, Nancy returns to the breeder for another Morgan. She thinks she is "settling" when she ends up with Clifford, a crooked-legged runt gelding. She is in for a big surprise! Follow the adventures of Clifford as he romps through the wooded paradise of Michigan's Eastern Upper Peninsula. Also included are tales of a playful hawk, hand-fed chickadees, and a loyal German shepherd. A true story destined to become a classic. Excerpt Sharon approached the stall where the ruckus was coming from. "This is Buckets." "Buckets?" "Yes. His mother had no milk when he was born, and he was bucket-fed for the first few days of his life." Buckets had obviously never been properly weaned. He thrust his nose out eagerly, snuffling me, searching for goodies. Sharon stepped over to him and held up a warning finger. "Thump, thump," his lips snapped together. She slid the stall door open and hooked the lead rope onto his halter. He stepped lightly out next to her, a shining red chestnut with his blazed face pointed curiously in my direction. "It was a little hard getting used to all that white on his face," Sharon said. "Most of our Morgans have little or no white." I followed her outside, carrying the camera. I thought the least I could do was take a video of this young gelding that she obviously wanted to sell. He walked quietly with her to the outdoor arena. His flanks gleamed red in the sun, and his long yellow mane was a mass of disheveled curls. She closed the gate behind her and unhooked him. She clucked to him softly, and he trotted in a circle. He moved lightly and freely like the rest of her Morgans, arching his long neck proudly, purring happy snorts. But he was not overly cooperative about showing off. He was quite intrigued by the camera and kept coming over to stick his face in it. "He’s friendly," I said. "Oh yeah," her reply was casual, offhand. It soon turned out that ‘friendly’ was an understatement. Taking pictures of Buckets was an exercise in the Macro sense of the word. I got pictures of his nostril, pictures of his whiskers and the white diamond on the end of his nose. I got a good shot of his leering, rolling eye as he shook his mane wickedly and spun away. Hoping to impress me further, Sharon led Buckets out and put him in a bitting rig. She fed him peppermints as he stood in the cross ties, which he crunched greedily. She then led him off and proceeded to longe him around the arena. I continued to film. I had to admit that he was very cute with his blinkers on. His neck arched prettily, his hocks moved high. "What’s his registered name?" I asked. "Kerry B Proud. His sire is Serendipity Aries B, his dam is Kerry Pride ‘N Joy." I could see how the name worked out. Aries B + Pride ‘N Joy = B Proud. And it was fitting. The little horse was obviously full of himself. Still, I could not get the high-stepping filly out of my mind. I knew she was going to be another Sharolyn. After Buckets was put away, I followed Sharon into her house to look at papers, and then spent the next hour begging her to sell me that filly. "Do you want her shown? I’ll show her!" I wheedled. "She’d probably fit in your trunk, Nancy," Shannon said laughingly. I didn’t mind the fact that Airatude was a baby. I knew she was supposed to be my horse. But Sharon was firm. Those Aries B daughters were not for sale. No way, no how. Sadly, I followed her back out to the barn while she did the evening feeding. I walked over to Buckets’ stall and looked in at him. He thrust his nose out and thumped his lips at me. I looked at his long mane, which hung down over his eyes. He was chestnut – not what I wanted. He was a gelding – not what I wanted. He was a two-year-old – probably not what I could handle. I hadn’t imagined giving up my dream of an elegant bay mare, especially for a mouthy chestnut colt named Buckets. But I needed a horse. He was a son of that wonderful stallion, Aries B. His dam was related to Sharolyn. And anyway, maybe it was better to get something different than the mare I still mourned. If I came home with a mare or filly, maybe my expectations would be too high. "Okay," I said. "I’ll take him."

Jeanne Mellin Herrick, Author, "The Complete Morgan Horse"
"A warm and engaging narrative full of Morgan horse lore and character; a veritable kaleidoscope of horses, dogs, birds and people, made all the more enjoyable because their story is true! I've known many a Morgan not unlike Clifford!"


Alexandra Kurland, Author, "Clicker Training for Your Horse"
"In this enchanting tale, Nancy Bailey shows us how good training and love can be woven together to create the kind of partnership we all want with our horses."

Halle McAvoy, Horseman's Yankee Pedlar
"Author Bailey has come up with a winning true story about Clifford the Morgan Horse that is witty, engaging, and at times, laugh out loud funny. Best of all, Bailey admits to her equine shortcomings with hilarious results."