Horse Tales

My Pig Tales entry set off a long string of memories about my years in the wilds of Nowhere, TN. Therefor, you are likely to be subjected to several more Tales of a City Mouse in the Country in the future.

I have always wanted a horse. Like most little girls, I loved horses. I longed for the day when I could have one of my very own. When we moved to Tennessee I saw my opportunity. There were 3 barns on the property and fenced pastures and a farmer who baled hay right there – oh yes! It was my time to have a horse.

First I bought 2 Appaloosas as a present for my hubby. If I couldn’t get him to buy them for me, I’d get my horses any way I could. They were beautiful and I named them Sugar and Cinnamon. Cinnamon had a spicy personality that lived up to her name and Sugar…. well Sugar was sweet, as long as you didn’t try to ride her! They were young. Cinnamon had never been ridden and Sugar had only been ridden twice. I bought them based on my hubby’s word that he could finish ‘breaking’ them and we would have two beautiful horses to ride. Yes, back then I still believed the words that came out of his mouth.

Hubby was riding on a testosterone high, so we saddled up Sugar. No problem. She accepted the saddle and bridle without so much as a twitch of her luxurious tail. We led her around a bit. Still a complacent horse. Now came the moment of truth. Hubby grasped the reins and saddle, then tentatively placed his weight in the saddle. Sugar shifted, but that was it. Buoyed by confidence and testosterone, hubby decided to swing his leg over and ride. It was then that I decided that Sugar should have been named Lightning. Before I could blink (and well before hubby could actually get his butt into the saddle) Sugar had bucked, thrown hubby, and run to the far end of the pasture where she was now contentedly munching grass as if nothing had happened. Hubby was lying on the ground, staring up at the sky.

I was not sure if I should laugh or cry. He might be hurt. However, the sight of him flying through the air in a rather poor imitation of a fledgling eaglet had been tremendously funny. I swallowed my laughter and headed towards hubby. At that moment he stood up, reached over and grabbed his hit, shoved it securely on his head, took two steps towards Sugar……then his knees buckled and he fell spread-eagled, face first back onto the ground. As I ran toward him I couldn’t help but notice the large skid mark on his back where he had slid along the ground after his first less than gentle landing.

Hubby was not hurt. By the time I got to him he was muttering something about it not being true that fat people bounce and standing again. He did have a headache for 3 days, but Sugar was happy again and I got to laugh until I was gasping for breath. Small price to pay for a headache, in my opinion!

Soon Sugar & Cinnamon were traded for another horse. No, really, it had nothing to do with the fact that the vet swore that Cinnamon had tried to kill him or the now infamous riding incident with Sugar. Still, now we had Kelly. Kelly was a beautiful blood bay quarter horse, about 16 hands tall. She was 5 and had been well broken. She had also been trained as a cattle horse. No sooner had we acquired her than I got a chance to test her training.

The farmer who rented the land around our horse often asked us for help. Hubby felt like a real man when he was doing farm work, so he always agreed. That day we were asked us to move the cattle up two fields from where they were. Hubby volunteered me and Kelly for the task. Me? Oh shit. I hope this horse knows what she’s doing! I saddled her up and rode her around for a few minutes. Hubby handed me a coil of rope & instructed me to wave it at the cows and yell at them. OK. God knows if I were a cow I’d be afraid of an idiot on a horse with a piece of rope! What had I gotten into?

Off I ride. Kelly’s ears perked forward when she was the cattle and she was off. She rounded em up and moved them exactly where they were supposed to go. No straggler could elude her. I gave her full control and sat on her back singing the Rawhide theme song. “Rolling, rolling, rolling…..keep them dawggies rolling…..Rawhide!” If my friends back in Tampa could see me now……

Kelly was disappointed when we were done. Apparently this had been an easy task for her and she wanted more. She zeroed in on the big red bull. The bull looked at her. Kelly eyed the bull. They were sizing each other up and I could feel a confrontation building. Whoa, Kelly girl! I leaned forward and whispered “oats” in her ear. We made it back to the barn without further incident.

I was a hero. My daughter was delighted and wanted to ride. My son was impressed and wanted to be able to do that himself. My husband……took all the credit, of course. Kelly just wanted to eat. This became apparent when she picked my daughter up by the pony tail which was bouncing on the top of her 3 year old head and moved her. We were all stunned – all but M who wanted the horsie to toss her around again. Feeling less than adventurous right about then, I chose to reward Kelly with a bucket of oats rather than watch a repeat performance. My son’s learn to ride wish came true….but that is another story.