The fairytalesque Friesian! Throughout the month of February, we are featuring Friesians and Friesian crosses.
Did you know… dressage riders who compete with a member of this stunning breed are eligible for special awards through the Adequan®/USDF All-Breeds Awards program? The Friesian Heritage Horse & Sporthorse International, Friesian Horse Association of North America, Friesian Horse Society, Friesian Sport Horse Registry, and Friesian Sporthorse Association are all participating organizations!
A carefully planned embryo transfer turned into an unplanned battle for life when this rider’s horse experienced health complications at birth – now, he’s dancing in the sandbox!
By Angela Fazzio
Some horses come into our lives by chance, but Sikke MF came into mine by intention, science, love, and legacy. He was born through embryo transfer, already a miracle before he ever took his first breath. We opted for embryo transfer to produce Fish, as his biological dam was only a three-year-old. He was carried and brought into the world by my late Thoroughbred cross, ComediansPaige, a mare who was my constant for eighteen years, and whom I loved for her entire life. Through him, a part of her still lives on. In many ways, he is not just his own being, but a continuation of everything she gave me – her strength, her heart, her quiet presence that shaped who I am.
Within his first hour of life, Sikke MF earned the nickname Fish – a playful name born from fear and hope intertwined. He was sickly from the start, always making a small puckered “fish face” as he struggled, and we almost lost him more times than I can count. Fish was a “dummy” foal, and could not stand or nurse on his own; it took days for him to get the hang of it. He developed aspiration pneumonia multiple times, resulting in him being stallbound for the first two months, and developing several 105-degree fevers over the first four months of his life.
Those early days were filled with exhaustion, worry, and relentless care. My mom and I worked tirelessly together – feeding, monitoring, fighting for him when it felt like everything was stacked against us. Without her support, determination, and belief, he would not be here. His survival is as much her legacy as it is his. We would have to give him multiple shots and medications daily, as well as constantly monitor his temperature and eating habits.
Fish has been with me since the moment he was born, and he will be with me for the rest of his life. He carries pieces of my past – of my mare, of my mom, of the love that kept him alive when survival was uncertain – and walks with me into whatever comes next. He is not just a horse I ride or train; he is my constant, my history, and my heart. Loving him is not something I chose once; it is something I choose every single day.
I recently lost my mom, and that loss has reshaped my world. Yet through Fish, I feel closer to her now than ever. Every day with him carries echoes of those long nights we spent fighting to keep him alive. In caring for him, I feel her presence – steady, loving, and unyielding – as though a piece of her is still guiding my hands. He is a living connection to her love, her sacrifices, and her unwavering faith in me.
Fish is extraordinary by blood as well as by soul. His biological mother is an imported Friesian Horse Association of North America (FHANA) Kroon mare, a distinction that speaks to excellence, rarity, and brilliance within the breed. That legacy lives within him, though not always in easy ways. He is sensitive, sharp, and intelligent to the point of being difficult. He can be aloof, spooky, and flighty, always alert, and always feeling more than he lets on. Loving Fish has never been about ease – it has been about patience, trust, and learning to listen when words are not enough.
Together, we have worked through those challenges rather than around them. Through dressage and working equitation, we have grown as partners, finding success not just in competition, but in communication. Every achievement has been earned through understanding, empathy, and mutual effort. He pushes me to be better, quieter, and more present, and in return, he offers moments of connection that feel almost sacred.
Due to some back issues that have developed, our goals have shifted. We focus on lower level dressage, not because he lacks ability, but because his comfort and well-being matter above all else. Keeping him strong, healthy, and content is the truest measure of success. He does not owe me performance, progress, or proof of his worth. He owes me nothing.
My partnership with Fish has taught me so much, not just about him and how I work with horses, but also about myself. I have learned to be quiet and patient; to listen to the horse and always do best by them.
