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Blackie: The Horse Who Stood Still

Blackie: The Horse Who Stood Still

ISBN: 9781599621302
Publisher: Welcome Books
Publication Date: 2014-05-06
Number of pages: 64
Any used item that originally included an accessory such as an access code, one time use worksheet, cd or dvd, or other one time use accessories may not be guaranteed to be included or valid. By purchasing this item you acknowledge the above statement.
$19.34

In a pasture in Kansas one early spring morn
A horse quite unlike other horses was born.
His coat was coal black so they named the horse “Blackie,”
And before very long folks found out he was wacky! 

Meet Blackie, the stubbornly motionless equine hero of Christopher Cerf and Paige Peterson’s delightful and touching biography-in-verse, Blackie, The Horse Who Stood Still. 

See, most colts are frisky but Blackie was not.
Blackie liked standing still! Yes, he liked it a lot!
“What’s the hurry?” thought Blackie. “There’s so much to see
Standing here in the shade of a juniper tree….. 

This (mostly) true tale tells the heart-warming story of a horse who made standing stock-still a lifelong endeavor—while becoming a champion rodeo horse, a tourist favorite at Yosemite Park, a legendary environmental crusader, and the beloved mascot of one of America’s most beautiful towns, Tiburon, California, on the shores of San Francisco Bay. 

The word quickly spread ‘bout the new horse in town
And from all ‘round the county young kids headed down
To the pasture where Blackie could always be found
Standing still, like a rock, on the same patch of ground. 

Magically illustrated by Peterson’s lyrical paintings, Blackie is destined to become a children’s classic in the tradition of Munro Leaf’s Ferdinand the Bull and Dr. Seuss’s The Lorax, The playful, clever, rhyming text will charm adults and children alike as it delivers an important message about appreciating and preserving the natural beauty around us. 

“What a beautiful place!” Blackie thought when they got there,
“I simply can’t wait just to stand in one spot there
And watch a gull soar, or a tree gently sway,
Or the fog rolling in from the hills ‘cross the bay…

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