Why Santa Uses Reindeer

Santa uses reindeer because...a long time ago Santa had eight horses to pull his sleigh. One time Santa started to say “Ho Ho Ho and have a Merry Christmas!” The first time Santa did this is did not work out very well. I can tell you why right now.

On the next Christmas Santa did his new theme. Right before Santa went, he hooked up he horses, put the presents in the sleigh, and put on his Christmas hat. Then he said, “Good bye everyone,” and left to all the good little boys’ and girls’ houses. When he was all done he said “Ho Ho Ho and have a Merry Christmas!” All his horses stopped in mid-air! Santa and his horses fell straight down. Santa hurt his back really bad. His horses urged him to get back on the sleigh to go home for the night. Then Santa thought to himself that he would never say “Ho Ho Ho” again. He got to his feet, walked to his sleigh, and said “Go” to the horses and left for his house. That was the worst Christmas ever for Santa.

Santa got reindeer for his sleigh. The next Christmas Santa got rid of the horses to eight little children who wanted a horse.

That’s the story of why Santa uses reindeer.

(Back to Top)

Night Before Christmas

It was Christmas Eve, but my mind was anywhere but the holiday season. I was trying to figure out what to do with my horse, Night. My beautiful black gelding, my pride and joy, was proving to be impossible to train as a driving horse. He was a dream to ride and a prince on the ground, but once between the shafts, Night could not be controlled. He refused to rate, no training aid could induce him to listen, and “Whoa” was a foreign language. I had had such high hopes for my black horse, but now my husband was calling him, despite his obvious gender, “Night-mare.” With my mind thus occupied, I barely noticed my surroundings as I trudged through the snow to the barn for the last check on the horses. I flipped on the barn light and froze. Someone was in my tack room!

I screamed. He screamed. He whirled around to face me. I stared. He was dressed in a furry red coat, quite dirty, with white trim; matching red hat and leggings; and shiny black boots with gold buckles. “Santa Claus?!”

The startled man was beginning to regain his composure. “Well, Christ, who’d you expect to find in a barn on Christmas Eve?” He slapped his thigh; a cloud of soot puffed up. “Ho ho ho, get it? Did you expect to find Christ in a barn on Christmas Eve? Ho ho ho, that’s funny!”

I continued to stare at him.

“Okay, so maybe that was a bit off-color,” I nodded. “Anyway, what I came down here for was to borrow a hoof pick. Donner’s come up bad lame. I think he picked up a roofing nail.” I handed him the hoof pick. “Back in a jiffy.”

In the barn, I tried to quiet the horses in their stalls, who were none too thrilled by he commotion on their roof. Then Santa reappeared, looking glum.

“No nail. Now I really don’t know what to do. Donner’s too lame to fly.”

“You’re in luck,” I offered. “My husband’s a farrier. Perhaps he could look at Donner. Ordinarily on a Friday night he’d be out with the guys at the Heart Bar, but they close early on Christmas Eve.” Santa blinked. “At the where?”

“The Lonely Heart Bar. All the local shoers hang out there. But let me go get him for you.” I turned toward the house, then paused. “Er, Santa, better bring the reindeer into the barn. Dan’s afraid of heights.”

My husband gently set down Donner’s cloven hoof and straightened up, frowning. “No wonder he’s lame, Santa. These angles are way too low. His feet are all unbalanced. No one could fly that way!”

Santa stomped the ground in fury. “Ho ho, I knew it! When that new guy recommended a natural “wild reindeer trim,” I knew he didn’t know anything about flying reindeer! But do you know how hard it is to find a good farrier at the North Pole?”

I nodded sympathetically. “I can fix him, Santa, and the other reindeer too,” my husband offered. “But eight reindeer, corrective trims – this could take a while.”

Santa sighed. “Well, there’s nothing else to do, I suppose. Donner certainly can’t fly as he is.” Santa put his face in his hands. “But the poor children! Now I’ll never get all the presents delivered in time!” I studied my horses, who were all watching the newcomers in the barn aisle with great interest. “Maybe I can help, Santa. I have horses.”

Santa turned to me politely, but not hopefully. “I don’t think so. They’re nice horses, to be sure, but I doubt any of them can fly.”

My gaze fixed on my black horse, who looked back at me with eyes sparkling. “Oh, one of them can, Santa. One of them can.”

Ten minutes later, I sat in the carriage seat, one hand on the reins and the other on a ream of paper matching children’s names to gifts. The sleigh bells had been left on the reindeer's’ harnesses. I wanted this to be a silent Night.

“Good luck,” Santa called. Night danced in the shafts. “Be careful,” my husband warned. Then I clucked to Night, and we flew–yes, flew!–out of the barn and into the darkness.

Unrestrained for the first time in his life, Night galloped with abandon. I had known that the heavy toy sack wouldn’t slow him a bit. We cleared my town in minutes and headed for the state line. Of course, I did have to modify the routine somewhat. Night had jumped his pasture fence once, but rooftops were out of the questions. Instead, I called upon my childhood paper-route skills and hurled the gifts overhand at the doorsteps as we raced by.

Night finally slowed to a controlled canter around Utah, and as we finished Oregon and turned back east, he dropped into a ground-covering trot that would bring us home. Dawn was just breaking as we pulled once more into our lane. At the barn door, I pulled gently back on the reins. “Whoa!” For the first time in his life, Night stopped. I beamed. Christmas was a time for miracles!

I rubbed Night down and gave him a well-earned mash, replaced the now-empty sack in Santa’s sleigh, then headed to the house. I noted the eight reindeer were munching hay contentedly in the round pen. Donner already looked more comfortable.

Snores greeted me as I entered the house. A late-night football commentary blared from the big-screen. My husband and Santa were asleep on the sofa. Two empty cocoa mugs and a half-eaten plate of cookies were on the floor. They had both propped their booted feet on my coffee table! “Ahem!”

Santa and Dan started awake. “You’re safe,” Dan sighed with relief.

“You’re back already?” Santa exclaimed. “You did it? You really did it?” I nodded proudly. “Wow, that horse of your really can fly! He must be some horse!”

“Oh, he’s some horse, all right,” Dan muttered. I yawned conspicuously. Santa took the hint. “Well, I’d best be going. It’s a long flight back, but your husband says Donner will be fine if I take it slow.” Santa held out his hand to Dan. I’ll have the elves fly the deer back in 8 weeks for another trim.”

A short time later, we heard the distinctive jingle of sleigh bells, then a voice from the sky: “Merry Christmas to all, and all thanks to a good Night!”

Jockeys, Miracles and Christmas

Marie sat atop Flipper, urging him through the gap of two chestnut stallions.

“C’mon boy! We can beat these guys! Let’s go boy!” But as Marie said this, she knew that Flipper didn’t have the strength and stamina needed to win this race. She finished eleventh in a field of twelve. “Nice try boy, nice try,” she said as she patted the mighty quarter horse’s neck. “We’ll get ‘em next time.”

Marie slid off Flipper and handed him to his groom. She then headed to the jockey lounge, showering and waiting for the end of the program. But as she leaned back in the easy chair, Marie thought back to the day when she was first introduced to horses.

It was 1996 when Marie D’Ange, a French immigrant was first introduced to Somba, a thoroughbred racehorse. She was just 13 and after losing both parents, she came to join her Aunt Emily. Emily was a jockey a Moose Trail Farms in Lexington, Kentucky. Emily hired her as a groom and eventually trained her to become a jockey. She got her jockey license at age 15 and now at age 17 she has just one more win.

While Marie sat thinking about her life, she heard the screaming of the crowd. She looked up and saw a gray mare do down on the turf. While the other horses tried to avoid the mare, the jockey was trampled by a small, compact chestnut. In horror and shock, Marie realized that the silks were Moose Trail’s and the jockey was Emily Hatheart, her aunt. Twelve hours later, Marie walked out of the Emergency Room in a daze. Emily had been killed by the impact of the horse that trampled her. No one else was there for her now. She was on her own.

A week after the accident, Marie was finally able to look at the mare that her aunt went down on, Forward Breeze. This was the only part of Emily that Marie had left. Luckily, the vet at the track was able to save Breeze. Now Marie was determined to make something out of her; that being a broodmare. Breeze’s owner, Karon O’Neal, said that she would give Marie the next year until breeding season. As the year passed, Marie succeeded with Breeze in every way possible. By March, Marie was ready to breed Forward Breeze to Midnight Moon, the racing industry’s top stallion. Then, the played th waiting game.

As every month passed, Breeze got heavier and heavier. The vet said that she and her foal were developing like a charm But then, the unthinkable happened.

On Christmas Eve, Marie went down to check on Breeze. “Hey pretty girl, how are you?” As Marie gave her final check over Breeze, she noticed the mare foaming at the mouth and her eyes rolling in fear.

“What’s the matter girl? Breeze, are you okay? Help! Forward Breeze is in labor!” Marie called out and one of the grooms called the vet. He clarified it - Forward Breeze was in pre-mature labor.

“Marie, honey, wake up. Breeze’s foal was born!” Instantly, Marie was awake and alert. She threw on a new pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and ran out to the barn. After sitting in the barn until midnight, Karon made Marie go to bed. “It’s Christmas tomorrow. Get some rest,” Karon had said.

Now Marie regretted it. She should have stayed with Breeze. “Oh, Breeze, please be okay. I don’t want to lose you too.” Marie felt tears come to her eyes. But when she got to the barn, Marie heard the happy sound of whinnying. As she walked into Breeze’s stall, she saw her standing on all four feet, and right next to her wa s small, dapple gray filly.

“A filly! Healthy and perfectly intact,” the vet said proudly. “She delivered at the strike of twelve on Christmas morning.”

Marie looked at the tiny bundle in amazement as she started to nurse. “Miracle,” she whispered to herself. “Um Marie, can I talk to you? It’s about the foal.” Marie pulled her eyes away from the foal and looked at Karon. The owner looked at her with trusting eyes. “I’d like you to have her. I would also appreciate it if you called her Miracle. Please do that for me.”

Marie looked at the foal and nodded her head. She went and hugged the foal. “She’ll always be mine; my Christmas Miracle!”

(Back to Top)

Amber's Firefly

The corral pen behind the barn was cold, buried beneath several layers of snow. Many of the horses tripped as they stumbled blindly into it, their manes tangled with sweat and grime. Their eyes were wild, still showing the panic they had been put through as they tried to escape through the closing gate. The gate creaked as it swung on its rusty hinges and slammed shut, the lock of the metal unmistakable. A crack of a whip sounded and a lean man came into view, his body hardened by work and his face twisted in a cruel smile. “Amber! Git over here!”

His voice was cracked and slurred by ale as he shouted to a slim young woman sitting on the fence, watching the horses. Her mass of brown waves fluttered in the wind, and she pushed it back away from her face with a distracted manner, completely ignoring the man as she watched the horses. “Amber!!”

Amber looked up, startled. She jumped off the fence and came over to him, slowly accepting the long whip that he shoved into her hand.

“Take that and make sure that they don’t escape while I’m separatin' em. We don’t want no more foals than we can sell. And don’t you hesitate to hit ‘em! “ The man approached the gate and opened it, connecting it to another paddock. The horses streamed out, and he took a short crop from his pocket. When a large grey stallion tried to follow he hit the horse on its muzzle with the whip, a nasty cut appearing. Amber cried out, biting her lip as he threw a murderous glare at her. When he had finished he left her alone, heading towards an old beat up truck that haunted the edge of the farmyard. He revved up the engine and sputtered out. Amber sighed and reached out a hand to an ebony colt with a stripe down his face. He whinnied in terror and fled. Sadly, she withdrew and went into the old house, flakes of paint drifting to the ground as she closed the door.

Amber woke to the noisy drawl of a car radio. Throwing her sheets off, she scrambled to the window and peered out, watching the truck growl into the driveway. The music stopped abruptly as the door of the car swung open to reveal the man, singing horribly to a Christmas carol, a half-empty beer bottle clutched in his grimy fist.

” …Jack Frost nippin at yur nose…!” Col’s gone and got himself drunk again, she thought miserably. She climbed back into bed as she heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs. She lay beside him and waited for the his gentle hum of snoring to fill the house before she left, grabbing a worn coat over her nightgown as she quietly closed the screen door. The cold air made her breath fog as she trudged over to the gate, slipping her hand into the pocket of Col’s jacket and feeling past the truck’s keys to a scrap of moldy carrot. She brought her hand out and offered it to the nearest, barely moving a muscle. The filly looked fearfully at the carrot. She’s about three… Amber thought as she offered out the treat. Slowly, the mustang lunged for the delicacy, chewing steadily as Amber admired her from a distance. The mare was a sleek chestnut, her burnished auburn body glowing faintly. Firefly, Amber thought as the name came unbidden to her mind.

Weeks passed and every night she again went to see the horses. She was forming a bond with them through the dark hours and they accepted her more and more. Firefly was only one of her new friends that she loved and cared for. They were her family now. Hers to love, to care for, to receive love from, the thing she hadn’t had for many years. But Firefly was always her favorite. Often Amber would sit among them, and as they nickered softly to one another, Firefly would come up beside her, and nuzzle her cheek. She would stand there until a faint pinkish glow spread over the horizon, and Amber retreated to the house.

It was the morning of Christmas Eve and Amber woke to the shrill scream of a horse in pain. She raced down the stairs, trying to keep the tears from pouring down her cheeks; you knew this would happen! As she swung open the door she caught sight of Col holding a long whip in his hand, beating Firefly with it. Dark streaks of blood ran down the mare’s back to stain the snow and she shuddered with pain. Amber grabbed Col’s arm, trying to keep him from striking her again. He yelled with surprise and anger and threw her to the ground, Firefly escaping to the other end of the corral. He jerked her up by one arm and shook her.

“You idiot! You could have had me killed! What the hell is wrong with you!?”

Amber only cried harder, wet tears tracing her swollen face. He dropped her again in the slush, swearing as he booted up the truck and swerved crazily out of the driveway. She continued to sob, deep wet hiccups as she tried to choke them back. He would never let her near the horses again. Amber sat at the kitchen table when Col returned. He tromped in, pouring himself a mug full of hot black coffee. His face was expressionless as he faced her.

“I don’ no what happened this mornin’ but I’m not taking a chance. I’ve been put off my schedule to long. I’m breakin’ em tomorrow and if I catch you out of the house I’ll hurt you."

Late that night she came out once again to see them. It was actually Christmas morning, though Amber was far from happy. She had to say goodbye, to try to make them understand why she was deserting them to their fate. Suddenly, she stopped still as she saw Firefly. They met, woman’s eyes and mare’s eyes in an endless gaze. Mechanically, Amber walked over to the gate. Her fingers fumbled with the heavy latch but she managed to get it open. The air was still as she took in a deep breath, trying not to sob. Then she swung the gate to its full length, standing back from the river of horses that galloped past her. They streamed out, their powerful bodies making a channel of color through the snow as they left the barnyard, left the farm. They ran to the open hills where they belonged, to be earth and sea and sky and wind, to be what they were born to be. Amber felt like crying, but found that there were no tears within her. They were replaced by an understanding, a love so strong that it would swallow her up. She watched, as her mustangs became faint blurs against the morning sky, and, jamming her hands into the pockets of Col’s jacket, turned back to the house.

But as her fingers hit metal, she slowed her step, and her gazed lifted to the edge of the farmyard.

Please Santa Please
(Can be sung to the tune “Away in a Manger”)

Away in a manger
Lay alfalfa hay,
Which had been offered
For a gelding of bay.

A bridle of silver
And a saddle of black
But if you don’t have them
Then I’ll ride him bareback.

Please plait his black mane
In red ribbons and bows,
And make his coat glisten
From his head to his toes.
Rub oil on his muzzle,
Shine his hooves with polish,
And tie him there waiting –
Fulfilling my wish.

I have not been perfect
But I’ve tried to be good
And do all those things that
A proper child should.

I hope and I wish
With all of my might
That Santa will deliver
My pony tonight.

(Back to Top)

My horse is red
and he pulls my sled.
We sled all day
and I give him some hay.
I put a Christmas bow in his hair,
and then I see Santa in the air.

(Back to Top)

A Winter's Passage to Summer

As soon as she arrived home, she caught the tail end of her husband’s phone message saying that he was “working again late but he would make it up to her”. “Sure” Tess thought as she choked back her tears. After all, it was Christmas eve and it was tradition for them to spend that time together. But, lately, Jay had been so preoccupied with something. Tess’ heart sank with the thought that maybe he had started seeing someone. And she thought sadly, she couldn’t half blame him. They had a good marriage but something happened three years ago which had changed everything.

It had been three years since Tess lost her mom right before Christmas. Her mother was her best friend and Tess was devoted to her. Ironically, from the time she was a little girl, her mother would say, “Tess, when you get married you need to live on 5 acres so you can have as many horses as you want!” That very Christmas, Jay and Tess were on the verge of buying their dream ranch – 5 prime acres with a newer home and a small barn set up perfectly for horses, the McCalister place.

But, it was then that her mom’s illness was diagnosed and they lost her almost eight weeks to the day the doctor had given them the grim prognosis. It was Tess who sat alone by her mother’s side holding her hand in the final hours. And when her mother took her last belabored breath, there were two spirits who died that night – her mother and Tess right along with her. The McCalister property simply fell by the wayside.

Now with the latest weather report of sub zero temperatures, Tess knew she must get to the barn. She quickly changed into her fleece breeches and her warmest barn coat. She then gathered all the ingredients for a hot bran mash and went into storage for the huge quilted horse blanket. Packing her car, she hurriedly got back onto the road which had become almost impassable and made her way carefully to the barn. To add insult to injury, the McCalister place was on the way there. Although she had driven past it almost daily, her car had swerved in the snow and its headlights caught an iridescent SOLD sign in the McCalister front yard. For a moment, Tess couldn’t see believe her eyes. It wasn’t the near accident that brought her to tears, it was the SOLD sign on the property! Tess had no idea that it had been on the market. Not only had they missed their chance once –but now they missed it again. As her tears subsided, she finally reached her destination. She cut the car engine and sat for a moment in the stillness of winter desolation. Getting out of the car, she pushed hard against the half frozen door and entered the barn. This was a boarding barn usually filled with the hustle and bustle of horses and owners, but it was late, the snow was pelting, not to mention it was Christmas and Tess was alone. Her eyes quickly accustomed to the darkness as she heard his low gentle nicker. Her beautiful gelding turned to greet her as if to say, “I knew you’d come”. He poked his soft muzzle through the stall to nudge Tess’ hand and her fingers froze to the latch as she quickly opened the stall door. Entering quickly, she circled her arms around his huge presence and buried her face into his neck. Her tears begin to fall again and as they streamed down her face, her frozen state of emotions started to melt away and--at last Tess felt at home. This was her place, there with Summer – freezing cold in a desolate boarding barn on Christmas eve.

Stepping back, she gently brushed his neck with her hand. She knew he was cold. Being a naturalist, she did not blanket him so that he would grow an ample winter coat. Only when the temps dropped to sub zero did he need to be blanketed. Was it her sense of purpose or to appease her troubled soul that drove her to check on him this cold night -- her winter’s passage to Summer? She buttoned him up with his warm winter blanket and put her heart against his shoulder. It was both.

Later as she held the bucket of mash while he savored it, her mind wandered off to the day that she first laid eyes on him. Tess had been blessed with having several other horses through her life, but only one like him. He was a three year old dark sorrel color with a blonde mane and tail with a gentleness of soul and spirit unlike any other horse she had known.

Tess remembered the day that her mom first saw him. She asked Tess teasingly, “Where are his white socks?” It was fact that that beyond sound confirmation and a good mind, Tess favored sorrel horses that usually had to have white markings. Tess quipped back, “Mom, this horse is the finest horse I have ever owned –he just doesn’t need ‘em.”

Although a Quarter horse, Summer looked like a thoroughbred –long and lean. Tess wanted to ride him hunt seat and to jump as well as ride dressage and beyond all else, to ride trail. Although it took plenty of lessons and hours on trail, what a pair they forged! So the years passed quickly and this year, Summer turned sixteen. During all this time, there was never another horse that Tess looked at the same way she looked at him. But recently there was a long yearling for sale at the barn and she caught Tess’ eye. This filly was a solid paint with three white socks and full blaze. Other than being built almost as sound as they come, the filly had a good mind and sweet disposition.

Any other time, Tess would have figured out a way to buy her, but since losing her mom, Tess didn’t have much excitement about anything. If only they had gotten their property, this filly would have been a perfect companion for Summer and a project horse for her. But Tess knew that she didn’t want to board two horses.

She stepped over to Sienna’s stall that night. “Hey there, girlfriend” Tess said quietly and the filly nickered to her. Out of the corner of her eye, Tess she saw a huge red bow on her stall –obviously she was sold and probably someone’s Christmas present. Tess thought to herself, “Just great, I’ve lost a husband, my dream farm twice, and this filly all in one night and on Christmas eve, no less!”

As she was stroking the filly’s head, she heard a familiar sound –it sounded like Jay’s truck. But how would he know she was there? Sure enough the door slid open and Jay strode purposefully into the barn. Tess quickly snapped, “Did your girlfriend kick you out early?” She couldn’t believe that she said it. Just as quickly Jay turned her to face him and lifted her chin. “Tess you know you’re the only woman meant for me.” And as he said those words Tess’ hurt feelings subsided and her heart warmed with love.

“And I see that you have already found one of your Christmas presents…” Tess’ mouth dropped open. “You mean you bought Sienna?” Tess was in utter disbelief. “Well, as long as we are on the subject, that’s not all. I figured that Summer would need a barn mate when we move him to his new home.” Once again Tess was speechless. Jay continued. “You didn’t know this, but your mom had saved money since you were little so that one day you could have your horse farm. She handed me her secret savings before she died and made me promise her that if the McCalister place became available, we were not to let it slip through our fingers again!“

“Why do you think I was so preoccupied these last weeks? Since your mom passed away, the only times I have seen you smile were when you were here with Summer. And, the only other time I saw the fleeting spirit of the Tess that I know was when you looked at that filly. Your mom was right, the only way that we could make you whole again might be with a place of our own…that you could have your horses under your care and we could start living again.”

For the third time that night, tears streamed down Tess’ face. She couldn’t believe the thoughtfulness and love behind Jay and her mom’s combined plan. For the first time since her mom died, she wanted to step back into her life again. “I love you, Jay” was all that she could choke out. He put his arms around her and she buried her face into his chest. With that, Tess could almost feel the warmth of her mother’s presence encircling them. For the first time in three years, her dark emptiness lifted into joyful anticipation and her spirit began to soar. And, with all the love of this night, she knew that this Christmas would be the best that they would ever have

(Back to Top)