Sounds like you're getting a good handle on the saying, "a good horse is never a bad color."
Love bays, myself, don't really care for Appy's; though one of the best ponies I have ever known was an Appy.
I think I've told you - I spent a few years working for a woman who considered herself a horse trader. I can't even remember how many horses went through her hands - some I barely got to know before they were sold on. There were times when I felt like an enabler, but I figured she would do what she did with or without me; I decided my job was to give the horses the best treatment I could while they were in my care. I managed to find something to like in almost every one of them - even the cranky ones. There were some that I simply didn't trust, but I'm not sure there were any that I truly disliked . . . though there was one that came close.
Shay was a 6-year-old blue eyed frame palomino Paint. She wasn't a sales horse, she was a boarder; bought by parents that didn't know any better for a rather timid teen-aged daughter. Shay pretty quickly demonstrated a tendency to be food aggressive. You couldn't even take hay into her stall without her swapping ends and at least threatening to kick. I got in the habit of carrying a lead rope any time I had to go in her stall when she was in there; after she got spanked with it a few times, she learned to move to the back of the stall and stay there when I told her to.
After she had been at the barn for a few weeks, she decided she wanted to be the top horse in the pasture. The savagery with which she went about asserting herself with the others was frightening - I really thought she'd lamed one pony in one fight. She started attacking horses at the gate to the barn, too; the girls started keeping a lunging whip near the gate to drive her off so they could come and go when they needed to.
One evening when I was feeding, Shay went for the horse I was trying to lead through the gate. I tried to run her off, and she went after me - spun around, and backed toward me. She was an arm's length away from me when I saw the soles of both of her back feet as they left the ground, and I thought, "that's it; she's gonna launch me into the next county." But she didn't kick out (I'm sure if I had touched her, she would have), she just sort of bucked at me, and I dodged, losing control of both the gate and the other horse in the process. Shay went blasting up the barn aisle, and I grabbed the lead of the horse that was with me and quickly put her in her stall.
There were several teenagers standing around talking at the far end of the barn (including Shay's owner) and I hoped maybe they'd try to catch her. No luck; when Shay got to that end of the barn, they all ducked over or through the gate to the parking lot. I quickly put the remaining horse from that pasture in her stall, then turned my attention to Shay.
And there was the problem. I had put the feed into the stalls before I had started bringing horses in, and right in the middle of the barn was a stall that had no bars on it, so the feeder was accessible from the aisle. The horse that was to go into that stall got a lot more feed than Shay did, and it was partly sweet feed. Of course, Shay found it, and was greedily gulping it down. So here I was - did I let Shay "win" and wait until she had stuffed herself (with the risk of her possibly colicing or even foundering as a result) or did I tackle a well-known food aggressive horse that was already in a highly excited state?
I decided I really had no choice - I wasn't responsible for that animal's mindset, but taking care of her was my responsibility.
With only a lead rope, I advanced on Shay, yelling and waving my arms. I managed to push her off, but she wasn't about to give up, and I took up a position near the stall and waited. Sure enough, she attacked, repeatedly. When she reared and came at me, I snaked the lead rope at her like a whip.When she kicked at me, I dodged and whacked her backside with it if I could. Eventually she figured out I wasn't going to let her push me away, and went down to the lower end of the barn, near the stall where I had put one of her pasturemates. I walked up to her quietly, slipped the lead around her neck, and took her to the gate (where I fumbled the gate, she got back past me, and we had to do the whole thing all over again!) After I brought the horses from the other pasture in, I put Shay in her stall - the point being,
she doesn't decide when she comes in,
I do.
As I told one of the girls a couple of days later, "Shay isn't a bad horse, she just has a problem understanding who's in charge. She thinks she is. What she needs is someone who can firmly, fairly, and consistently tell her that she's not the boss, they are. But since she's apparently gotten used to getting away with this, it's going to take a while."
Within a few weeks, the owners had sold Shay, and everyone in the barn breathed a sigh of relief. I hope the new owners had the heads and the hearts to build on what we had started, though I had my doubts. In some ways, I felt sorry for the horse, but dealing with an animal that you have to be
that much on your guard around is not fun.
(Incidentally, if you've seen the Clinton Anderson video "Once Bitten, Twice Shy," you've pretty much seen Shay)