Flashbacks: Learning To Ride

I had a very unique childhood because I grew up on a ranch.  I didn't learn to ride through lessons.  I learned to ride by getting tossed up on a horse and getting told to stay in the middle.  In fact I can't remember not riding and I only vaguely remember when I wasn't riding my own horse.

My mom has worn her hair the same way my entire life

My mom was riding right up until I was born and after I was born she frequently packed me around with in a backpack.  Once I was too big for that I started riding in front of her or dad depending on who was riding the steadier horse #safetythird.  Eventually I graduated to lead line, and occasionally they would have to drop the rope go chase cows and then come back for my sister and me.

I am the wee little midget on the front of the paint

After I got big enough that I could be trusted to follow along behind the halter rope got tied to the saddle (just in case) and we were always left at the back of the herd to push the cows along, while mom and dad worked the front and middle.

I wore that floppy old hat so much

The country we were in was rough to say the least, I am quite certain as an adult I would not be brave enough to tackle some of the trails that were used to drive the cows up to the national forest.  We also had to drive the cows up a two lane highway each spring and fall.  At the time I was too young to understand those added dangers, but I do remember my mom being very upset about some near misses.

Riders had to be scattered throughout to keep the cows moving steadily 

so there weren't any build ups that could cause cows to be pushed off the trail

We also did 4-H and the one year my sister was trying to date a guy and she discovered that if she showed horses she could see him weekly instead of once a month.  So she begged and begged and begged to show horses.  I wasn't interested in it, but my mom insisted that if my sister was going to do it I had to do it too.  I am sure my mom knew that my sister wasn't interested in horses and was determined not to haul the daughter with minimal interest in horses around and leave the one that actually liked horses at home.

I guess I always was all about the matching.

So in middle school (oh the ever awkward years) I started having my first pseudo lessons.  Really the guy didn't have much to say besides slower, because I was a bit of a speed demon.  My first serious lessons didn't happen until much later as in about six years ago.

Some Like It Hot: The Jethro Addition

My love affair with hot horses started at a very young age.  When I was very young my parents tended to keep me on the very old and lazy horses (Twinkle and Spice), but Twinkle was getting old and the long days were hard on her so she was getting phased out.  They didn't like having me ride one horse every day, so they decided to try me on Jethro.

Twinkle (left) and Spice (right)

He was a very solid horse but he hadn't been ridden by kids forever like Twinkle and Spice had.  My mom warned me the very first day I rode him that I could NOT smack him with my reins like I did with the other two.  Keep in mind I am only about four or so my legs are pretty useless for kicking.  So rather than being exhausted in the first 30 minutes from trying to get my horse to keep up, I started using my reins (long split western reins) as a crop and would pop the mares on the butt and they would walk a littler faster.

I am sure you can tell where this is going... I managed to make it about five minutes from the corral before I forgot my mom's warning.  Jethro was lagging behind the group (4-5 adults) and rather than kick to get him to catch up, I popped him with the reins.  He jumped straight into a canter and took off down a brush covered hill past the other horses.  He was jumping some of the bushes.  I finally got him pulled up and my mom caught up with me.

Jethro is the closest one

She asked me if I was ok and I giggled and wanted to do it again.  This was just the start of the antics with this saint of a horse.  I am 100% sure he is the only reason I survived my childhood.

Another day, my parents were working in a hay field a mile or two from the house and my sister and I were at the house.  There were some hunters that stopped to talk to them.  One of the hunters asked if they knew who owned the horses that were up the road a ways.  My mom said that they owned them and asked why.  The hunter said well there appears to be a little red headed girl running them up and down the road and they were concerned because they couldn't see a saddle or a bridle on the horse.

Jethro (right) was such a cool guy

Yep that was me...I was too small to be able to saddle or bridle the horse but I could bribe him over to rocks and scramble on bareback.  He was a saint and would stop gently if I started to get off balance and let me steer by tugging on his mane.  I was in a lot of trouble that day because I had all of the horses hot and sweaty by the time they got back to the house.  I learned about cooling horses out that day.

As a kid, he was always my favorite horse and so many of my best childhood memories have him in them.

How I Stole A Calf

This post was inspired by She Moved To Texas's post about catfishing her teacher. I was not tech savvy ever (still fail at this regularly) so I don't have any good stories like that. But I was responsible for stealing a calf (indirectly).

When I was a kid we ran cows on the national forest during the summer. There were multiple people who ran cows up there so we would ride in groups and spread out and everyone would check everyone's cows. The one day, I was (age 6ish) riding with my sister (college age) and a couple cowboys.

We came across a calf (belonged to a neighbor) that was quite small (days old) and had been abandoned by his mother. Since it didn't belong to any of us and the owner was known for not taking care of situations like that we left the calf. I was bawling because I knew that the calf was going to starve or something would kill it.

Apparently the cowboys felt terrible and went back and picked up the calf. Hauled it down to my parents place (~2 hours one way) and dumped it off. Saying that it was my calf now. It was very obviously not one of my parents calves and they had no idea why it was "mine".

Of course my parents started bottle feeding the calf and because he was so starved he promptly got sick. When my sister and I got back from the mountains a couple days later, I was ecstatic and my sister was shocked (the cowboys were known for being hard asses). And to make things better my mom, other sister, and I were going to the county fair so my dad was left at home by himself doctoring a sick calf. 

My to my parents surprise, the calf survived and I named him Smudge. He had a white face with one black spot. We had him for a couple years before he got sold. But that is how I stole a calf. Next up, all the horses I want to steal (don't worry I don't have a trailer).

Glade

Typically, I wouldn't write a post like this, but this one stuck with me.  Yesterday, there was an article published on Eventing Nation that struck a cord with me.  I understand why the author did what she did, but I want to share the other side of the story.  The one where the person doesn't make it across.

I had a brother Glade and he died when I was five years old.  He was twenty three years old and one of the few memories I have of him was hiding from the strange man.  It haunts me that my only memory that is truly mine is one where I was afraid of my own brother.  His memory lives on in stories, but if you goggle his name one small article about a tree being planted in his memory is the result.  A vibrant young man was reduced to a blip, all because of a split second decision to save some horses.

I don't remember a lot from the day that he died, but I do remember it was the first time I ever saw my dad cry.  The way Glade died was eerily similar to the way the article unfolded.  There was a big rain storm and a flash flood.  There were horses that were stranded on an island in the middle of a stream that was rapidly riding.  He and his girlfriend were trying to use a fence to cross the stream and the fence started coming apart.  She turned back and he grabbed one of the horses and that was the last time anyone saw him alive.  He and the horse went under (probably due to a fence) and he was found nine miles down stream and his horse was another four miles beyond him.

Obviously the author of the article had additional assistance that my brother did not have, but things could have just as easily have ended the same way.  I beg of you to please think twice before risking your life for your horse.  I love my horse more than anything, but he is not worth putting my family through the pain of losing me.  Somebody loves you, think of them and not yourself before you risk your life.

PS I do not know who took these photos and I apologize for not giving photo credits.

Polka Dot Periodical Blog Hop: Riding Resume

Nicku started this fun blog hop over on the Polka Dot Periodical.  Since I can't resist the chance to write yet another resume, I figured I would join in on the fun.

Started riding while in utero.  Seriously, my mom was still riding the week I was born.  She is a very tough lady.  Continued riding with either my mom or dad (sitting in front of them) until I was old enough to hang on to my own horse.

I am the smaller one on the right.

Once I graduated to my own horse I was ponied around until I could steer.  I am not sure how old I was, but I think it was 3ish.

I am the wee one on the back.

The next big move up was when I started riding Jethro.  He was a big (might not have been all that big but the little me thought he was) bay and is probably the reason I managed to survive my own stupidity.  He was a fabulous baby sitter.  I could get on him bareback no halter or bridle and if I got off balance he would just stop.  We were holding bunch (aka people on horses sitting around 500+ head of cows) and I got tired and crawled under him and went to sleep.  My mom found me and he was just standing and not even stomping at flies.  I could go on and on about him, but he was my first love.  Sadly he died of a heart attack when I was in late elementary/early middle school (have you noticed I am terrible with dates yet?).

Jethro is on the right (my sister is on him)

The next major horse was Mandy.  She was a little bay mare that was hot hot hot.  My oldest sister pitched a fit when my mom said I was going to start riding Mandy.  My sister was sure the mare was going to kill me.  Mandy had a nasty rearing habit when she was younger.  Luckily we got along fabulously.  We both had the same amount of crazy and it worked.  I had my worst fall off her, but also got my need for speed fix from her.  She was quick and catty and loved to work cows.  I actually showed her in 4-H.  Some how even with our speed demon ways we managed to win some things.

I have no idea who is in the middle.

I may or may not be related to them, but I don't recognize the horse.

I am pretty sure we won all around horse one year and I know we won reining and probably some other classes.  Obviously the reining was the only important one to me, because it is the only thing I remember for sure.  By the time I was in high school, she was starting to get arthritic and my last year in 4-H I showed my sister's horse.  She was much more the typical western show horse and we killed it.  I don't remember what all we won or didn't win.  Sadly I do not have any pictures from this period, because I was excellent at ducking the camera.

Nippers who was the first horse I started.

I was not really into showing western.  I loved reining but that was it.  I liked working cows, but I knew that I didn't want to ranch long term.  When I was in high school riding took a backseat to basketball.  When I went off to college I was on an academic and basketball scholarship, so I didn't ride unless I was home on vacation which was rare.  I should mention that the summer between high school and college I worked on a dude ranch in Wyoming.  That in itself is a story for another time.

Moving cows with my dad in the awkward years.

When I was in grad school I was feeling a bit lost and picked a place off the internet (it was the only one I could find a price list for) and started dressage lessons.  The original plan was to get the basics then jump, but I got hooked once I got tangled up with D.  D matched me up with a mare Nikki, who I loved dearly.  Unfortunately, that story does not have a happy ending.  But she taught me so much in the time I knew her.

First starting back pre D.  I can't remember this mare's name I only rode her once.

Once I moved, I struggled to find a place to take lessons.  I knew enough to recognize bad instructors but I was limited to places that had lesson horses.  I had to beg S to take me on because her schedule was already full.  Luckily she has trouble saying no and I landed at an amazing barn.  I rode a few different horses before I started looking for my own.

My own!!!

The final horse that has played an important role is my favorite little Pongo.  He taught me so much and gave me so much confidence.  He was the first horse I ever did cross country with.  He was the first horse I rode in a jumping clinic.  He gave me confidence that I can put the basics on a green horse and have them be a solid citizen.

Such a fun little guy!

So the bottom line is I have a ton of hours in the saddle and have ridden tons of different horses but haven't done much showing.  And I am fumbling my way through learning a new sport and teaching my horse.  PS this is a terrible resume because I couldn't shut up and keep things brief.