a friend of mine grew up with top level Morgan's her mother raised and in later yrs. switched to a couple mules for endurance rides and then to a couple Mustangs.  I asked her which she found harder to deal with and she said hands down the Mules she had.  They just didn't listen as well and made it plain they ignored her when possible.  Now that she is 75+ she has gone back to Morgan's.   

One of my friends in Vermont was an old French Canadian named Gil who logged the backcountry with his Morgan horse Smokey. That was a fine horse: nimble, strong, and smart as a whip. After he'd skidded a chain of logs out to the staging ground, Gil would set him loose to lope back up the trail, and he would wait patiently by the next log for Gil to finish unchaining the last batch and hiking back to fasten up the next. There were no reins on the harness; whatever he didn't do himself, Gil would call to him to do with a word or a whistle. At the end of the day, Gil would hop on his back (surprisingly agile for an old man with shrapnel in his knee from Guadalcanal) and ride him home.

Morgan's have a reputation for wanting to please.

Frosty, I think that may apply to most people as well.

Dad had a Morgan mare name of Easy, definitely a one person horse. Easy adored Dad and tolerated my sister Shannon and I because we fed morning and evening.She was never outright hostile to us but unless we were late with chow were beneath her notice. Even brushing was just tolerated though she did like a bath.

MY appaloosa  Banjo was an anybody horse a person had to be a serious jerk to get on his bad side. Well, unless they messed with Shan or I. He had sort of a rough sense of humor though, liked standing on your foot or sticking his nose between your legs and flipping you a ways. Sometimes just enough to knock you on your butt sometimes plant you in a watering trough. An old fellow suggested once he stopped laughing and wiped the tears from his eyes, Banjo had launched me a good 10' into the freshly filled compost pile, the next time Banjo stuck his nose between my legs I grab his ears. I only had to do it once.

I sure miss that horse.

Frosty The Lucky.

That frosty is what happens when the evagilists try breaching draft blood into then appiloosa Vally horses to make them more tractable. You just get a bigger appaloosa....

 

I was just a kid in the pic I hadn't finished growing. Banjo was 14,2 and out of a Utah "mustang" roundup. He was as much the Appaloosa breed as you'd find: moon eyed, shy a rib, jug headed with a Roman nose and short hocks so his jog was like being bounced on bricks. He doesn't look it but he was FAST, the only horse we ever had that could hold it's  own against the Morgan, Easy.

We used to say he looked like a fat plow horse but ran like he was shot out of a gun and scary smart. Getting to know him made it easy to understand why the cavalry had so much trouble keeping up with the Nez Pers. The Chinese sure knew how to breed horses.

Frosty The Lucky.

Apps are a mess, don't get me wrong I love my three dearly.