I remember with fondness the horses of my youth. There were only three or four I got to know on a first name basis. Between the ages of six and 12, I had the great childhood experience of farm animals. Of them all, I remember the horse the best, and not for their great personalities but for their cantankerous nature, which I later learned was just an unwillingness to be led by an idiot. We lived in the apple country of northern Washington and horses in the 1950's were in my father’s words,” just a little better than walking.” And that was one of the kinder things he said. They were still tolerated as farm animals because they kept the children busy and out of trouble. Them and chores. Tricking one into a bridle was an education in itself. How could any large animal become so callous to the temptation of a large apple? We were always looking for new bait, it was worse than fishing. Anything we could make look tempting. All smart horses were out of range of the longest rope and quickest wit. Or maybe, at that age we were evenly matched, mentally. Since they were larger physically, I guess we were overmatched, as some of what follows will verify.
The bridle torture
Once the brilliant creature was in rope tow, it would often become docile, don’t believe it. All to often the rope would get slack and then the sharp teeth would grab whatever piece of rear facing meat most easily removed. When finally approaching the location of the bridle and saddle, care should be taken not to grasp the rope to closely, for the first look will often warrant a head jerk much longer than your arm. If you forget, next time change arms and even them out. Or if like me, grow old with long arms. A normal horse can stare down any man or beast still breathing, without a twitch. But come bridling time, it can become very animated, akin to shoving a snake up its nose. With the clarity of 50 years, I believe the horse just got bored or tired and finally let me put the bridle on.
The saddle torture
When it comes to saddling, many horses can put on a show worthy of a broadway chorus line. They can shimmy, siddle, do the Roger Rabbit and even invented the Moon Walk. Michael Jackson must have watched horses. The footwork and choreography are dazzling and in most cases worthy of some kind of award. But like the bridle, they bore easily and want to get on with the game. The cinch is adjustable up to the size of a small blimp, which is fortunate since many a horse can hold that much air. And holding that air would make many free divers envious. Don’t get your young fingers under that cinch when that horse looks ready to float, he can trap them with just a bit more air. He must know I’ve done my chores and have nothing else to do.
The Mount
Somewhere along the horse history path, they have imbedded into the genetic code the fact that they cannot be mounted if they are standing on a human foot. To bypass this, one must be accompanied to the mounting but anyone you dislike or can spare as a friend. Once the foot hits the stirrup, the chorus line can again start up, leaving the trailing foot in undecided limbo. It’s at this point that a good horse will shine. They even have their own rodeo games. During one of these encounters is where I discovered the term “horse laugh”. It really can. I thought it was my imagination or state of consciousness, but it sounded like “go again?”
Control
Once firmly mounted, (yeah right), the horse can only go where you direct it with the reins,(you betcha). I believe we have gotten this far only because the animal now knows it’s easier to get rid of us that put up with this torture. So for the most part this is the smooth part of the ride.
The full tilt gallop through any part of the barn that is horse high plus 6 inches is the preview of things to come. Please remember the saddling was done outside, going in is not by choice. Everything that will clear the saddlehorn, which is 3 inches below my bellybutton, can clear the barn.
The Orchard
Upon inspection at full gallop through the apple orchards, I discover only minor bleeding. Hardly worth the trouble of stopping, since I’m this far. A good day for riding on the trail of bandits and bad guys. (Take it either way) But again this smooth sailing is to lull the senses. Remember that half hour trot for him is a two hour walk for you. For now, your steed is in the league of Roy Roger’s Trigger. As you near the upper edge of the orchards, a mile from the barn, the irrigation ditch looms. Concrete, 6 feet deep and 12 feet wide, it rings most fruit valleys as a way of cheap water. In sight now, with only a few more apple trees to clear, the beast give a lurch for the nearest low branch. If it can’t be accomplished with a straightforward scrape, then the chorus line can be again attempted.
The Irrigation Ditch
If destined to get this far, the ditch must be followed to the nearest small, narrow, wooden bridge. It’s on this bridge that many a rider has lost his mount. Or better put, the mount his rider. The whole exercise lasts only 12 feet, but can be the longest 12 feet in your life. The possibilities are: you and horse safely across; you across and the horse diggin dirt toward the barn; you in the drink and the horse again on its way; you and the horse both in the ditch(in which case you most certainly will not get out in the same place). All of these but the first ends with horse laugh and wild eyed trot toward home.
Tumbleweeds, Sagebrush, Prairie Dogs and Rattlesnakes
By making it this far, everyone should know I’ve chewed, hugged, stoned, and jumped all the above. Mostly from an unwilling dismount, at least on my part. But after surviving any or all in the course of a ride, ones mount must be always viewed with a wary eye. Be suspicious any time it looks back over its shoulder for no good reason. Don’t tense, don’t change position, just be aware it can make high speed 90 degree turns that would put a jackrabbit to shame. These maneuvers may not be aimed at you but you’re the only one there.
Home
By far the most dangerous part of the ride. The horse is tired or tired of you. You are tired and thinking of something cool. The horse is thinking of the nearness of the barn. And all those things can come tragically true with an unchecked, 15 second charge toward the irrigation ditch. At the end, approximately 10 feet from the ditch, the horse will do a world class balk. For the uninformed, this is where the horse stops in the shortest measured distance and you don’t. If this fails to unseat the rider, it can improvise with a 90 degree turn at the last moment. Akin to a wrestlers”hip throw”. Unfettered and heading for the nearest crossing; which it has no trouble crossing; it gives you the laugh, smile, and look of a being that has given you exactly what you wanted or at least what you deserve. As I watch it fade into the apple orchard, I hear my last orders before leaving home: DON’T LET THAT HORSE EAT ANY APPLES. They might as well have said, “ Don't let that horse come home without you”.
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