He was a brat, I remember going out to catch Dusty or Joe and only having a baling twine in my pocket, and the little brat charged me, I was probably only 11 or 12, you should have seen his face when I didnt run and brandished the baling twine in his face! He was a little better with me after that. I had started getting on him and walking him around, after he turned 2, and teaching him some things and Dad sold him. I remember Dad saying that he really never got over charging people. Here is a pic of Dad doing some groundwork with him. He wasnt a bad looking colt, gelding, QH I think grade, kinda thoroughbredy.
Another horse we had at about this time, I think the most we had at one time was 6. Ceasar, I couldnt find any pics of him, dont know if any were taken. He was Dads horse, 17H blood bay no white, big boy, Mom always thought he looked like a Cleveland Bay. He was a decent horse, a lot for a 12 year old to manage, to catch him I had to take only a halter out and catch him, lead him halfway up the pasture and tie him to the tree, other wise he would drag me back to the bottom of the field. Then I would go in the barn and get his bridle with the bit and proceed to put that on him so I could bring him out of the field, and he was fine. He was never mean, just big and he knew it.
We took him on one camping trip where Dad got him stuck in the mud, he never panicked just layed there until Dad took his saddle off and then he got up and struggled out of the mud. He taught me a lot about how to handle a big horse, as a small child. The folks sold him to a teenage girl who wanted to jump, I hope he made a good jumper, he was unflappable.