The Real Life of a Ranch Hand's Wife

Comfortable

Does anyone remember my post "Hurdles"? Well I do. It appears I have another hurdle in my life. I was supposed to go out with the Cowboy and sort off a couple young cows that were going to calve with the heifers. He saddled up the Blue Mare and then told me that I would ride and he would stay on the 4 wheeler with the munchkin.

    Now I know full well this mare is broke. She's more than just broke, she's broke broke. If I can hop on Grey Horse, who is the eternal mischief causer and will "try" you to see if you mean business, then riding this mare should be the same as a pony ride at the fair. Seriously, she doesn't have a mean bone in her body. A couple years ago she had the chance to freak out and buck me off, but didn't. She gets a little pissy every now and then, but it's to be expected of Estrogen.

    So the Cowboy heads off to open gates, while I am riding this mare. He just hauls butt, and doesn't look back. That's how much faith he has in this mare. The thoughts that were running through his head were, "she'll be fine" while he was enjoying a ride with his daughter. The thoughts that were running through my head were, "I want MY horse, this is not my horse, I want my Tango, I miss him, I don't want to have to ride other horses, we've been through so much, he's been there for me longer than that stupid Cowboy up there that runs off and leaves me on a strange horse." Soon the tears were flowing and I was upset, thus making the mare upset.

    We recently confirmed our suspicions and found out that my old man Tango is Navicular. For those of you that don't know what that is, here's a definition for you...It most commonly describes an inflammation or degeneration of the navicular bone and its surrounding tissues, usually on the front feet. It can lead to significant and even disabling lameness.

    I've always known somewhere in the back of my head that at some point I'd have to face the fact of him getting older and not being able to use him as much. I just didn't think it would be now. He'll be 18 in the spring, and these days that's not old for a horse. I guess I just didn't realize all this till I was sitting on that mare and then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I just couldn't do it. Call me a whiner, call me a baby, call me a quitter, call me a terrible ranch wife, call me what you will, I stepped off the mare and didn't go a step further.

    The Cowboy came back and was annoyed and confused. So was I. How do you explain all these emotions to a man that can step on any horse without a second thought? The same man that has only thought of "a good horse" in terms of if he'd actually dig a hole and bury them instead of sending them down the road when they're old and decrepit. Seriously there's no amount of emotional reasoning that's really going to sink in with him. I love you hunny, but it's true.

    So there's my next hurdle. Getting used to other horses. Back in the good ol days, I'd hop on anything without much of a thought of fear. Now I have to force myself to hop on another broke horse. What have I become? Comfortable, that's what I've become. Comfortable with a horse that has always treated me good, never hurt me, taught me how to ride, could only get his back feet 4 inches off the ground even when he tried hard to protest, helped me learn how to rope (not much of that stuck), let me lean on him when I cried into his neck about some stupid boyfriend, showed me how to work a cow, took me to my first ranch horse competition, showed me how much he hated to run barrels by shouldering in and crow-hopping on the way home, walked a little more carefully when I was pregnant, walked even more carefully when I had a baby in my arms, and walks even slower while he teaches my baby to ride. Comfortable is a great place to be.

    I guess I need to put on my big girl panties and learn to deal with being uncomfortable for a change in order to get over this hurdle. I'll let you know how that works out for me....

 

I was thinking...

    The other night I was lying in bed thinking about our trip to Jackson Hole. There were so many things that had changed while the mountains sat and watched it all. They never change. They are the saving grace of Jackson Hole.

 

Above, the Tetons. Below, 2 pictures of Granite Canyon, where I took trail riders for a half-day ride. It was beautiful up there!

Below, sunset at Jackson Hole.

      Maybe I'm just grumpy in my old age, afterall I did live there for 2 summers. I drove by the old homestead and took a picture for you. "The old stabbin cabin" as my tactful husband called it. For my college roommate and I it was home, even with the rats running around in the ceiling. Good ol' 220, my window was the one on the left, and the living room was on the right. I sat out on that front porch and called my Dad and told him, "I met the man I'm going to marry".

   The next day, while the Cowboy was roping, I noticed the people parked next to us had left. I didn't think much about it as there were already 2 ropings that were held that morning. People come and go without a second thought paid. Until they came back. I asked the older man if I was seeing things, just making light of it. You ever get that feeling like you just showed up to church in a thong bikini, asking who's making the Mai-Tai's? Yup, that's the feeling I got.

    They had only 2 horses tied to the trailer now, where there had been 3. The Bay gelding that the Cowboy and I had just hours ago been admiring was missing. When he was just standing there he looked fast. Sleek and shiney with a soft kind eye. He was nervous about being left alone, while the others went to rope. My old man does the same thing, he gets paranoid at being by himself.

   After my light comment, I was informed that the Bay had been hauled to the Vet for colic, really bad colic. They found that nothing could be done. He was loaded into the front stall of the horse trailer and given a shot to cease his pain. They were taking him home to bury him on the ranch. He was a younger horse, and they'd had him most of his life, 10 years. Oh man! How do you change out of that bikini, throw out your drink, and get dressed for church fast enough? By saying you're sorry, and listening to the story of a mourning old Cowboy, brought to the brink of tears.

    So here I am lying in bed, remembering all this, when it hits me. My old man Tango is 17. I know he has many more good years, but just thinking about that day brings tears to my eyes (like now). He has been with me for so many "firsts" and has now packed around my baby. He is my soul-mate in horse flesh.

    Sometimes I forget how fast and fleeting this life we have is. One minute there's a horse trailer parked next to you with 3 horses and the next there's only 2. It made me give my old man and extra scratch on the neck and kiss on the cheek. Then it got me thinking even more....the last time I saw my parents, did I give them enough hugs and kisses? or my sisters? or anyone that I care about for that matter?

    Give 'em a hug and a kiss today or the next time you see them. Be it equine, bovine, canine, feline, or human, they need it. So do you. Because you never know when you'll get the phone call saying someone you love just had a heart attack, or worse.

     

Catching Up

   Since we shipped the Boss Man's cows and calves, the ranch has been a little quiet. We still have about 100 2nd calf heifers running around and now close to 300 smaller calves to raise as yearlings. The Cowboy has been staying on top of the calves to keep an eye out for the unavoidable sick ones. So with the irrigation water shut off for the year to almost all of the ranch and most of the bovines not needing much attention, there's a little time to do some catching up.

    The Cowboy and I loaded up some of the colts and brought them to the corrals a couple days ago. They were "on the loose" in the trailer, as you couldn't catch much less touch them. They've seen people before, but haven't been within 20 feet of one for more than a few minutes, and certainly never touched. The bunch we sorted off was all fillies except one stud colt, and he shouldn't be that hard. He got a bad wire cut earlier this summer and was doctored quite a bit, so he was the only one that had been haltered before.

   The first one the Cowboy pulled out to work with was a 2 year old bay filly. She's a pretty girl with a soft, kind eye. He's going to start her under saddle, the others are just getting halter lessons for now. Our corrals need to be rebuilt, so it made things a little difficult, but the Cowboy adjusted, like always. Trying to work with a colt in a square pen isn't the easiest, but it can be done. Luckily, when she's ready for the saddle, he'll have a round pen to work in!

    So here's some pictures of the other day's halter breaking, with narration of course!

This is that soft eye I was talking about, so curious about that guy walking around her...

  

This was her first touch...ok well in 3 more seconds, her first touch... you get the idea!

This is when he was actually getting the halter on. She had some issues with the halter going over her nose, so it took a while, but eventually they worked it out.

Finally friends, after an hour of convincing that he wasn't going to eat her for lunch...I said she should be called Rita, a little fire in her, but deep down very gentle and loving. The Cowboy wanted to call her something stupid like Splinter or something...he's retarded.

This next dun filly took half the time. She has a pretty little head on her, and again a kind eye. She put up a fight for a minute and threw a fit, but then she wanted to be friends really easily.

I think she should be called Tinker Bell, because several times she tried to fly while throwing her fit...

 

 It didn't last long though...

They kissed and made up, maybe my Cowboy finally found himself a girlfriend!

Now that's two down, 16 more to go...

Sunday Drive

    Sunday was a pretty quiet day around the ranch. The chores were done, irrigation water was changed and everyone was ready for an afternoon off. Some good friends of ours, Rod and his son, happen to be working on a fencing job for the ranch, so all 5 of us took off towards the mountains.  We threw the fishing gear in the back of the truck along with a cooler packed for a picnic lunch and away we went. We headed for a secret creek on a friend of Rod’s ranch.

 

    Once we were off the main road, Rod started telling us stories about every inch of the hills we were covering. He grew up in these hills and mountains. His mother and father had moved into the area shortly after their marriage. They raised 3 children far from town, ran cows in wild country, turned sagebrush into hay meadows, and left their mark on the hearts of the people around them.

 

    We stopped and made a quick sandwich next to the creek where the old homestead still stands. The munchkin came with me as the rest of the men took off to find the good holes. After a whopping two casts, my line got snagged and that was the end for me. I didn’t have any extra hands for a tackle box. It wasn’t a total loss, since the munchkin started to have some fun splashing in the water with my fishing pole. I made it even better for her when I tied a rock to the line, so she could make a bigger splash and reel something in.

 

    After quite some time of splashing, we were getting hot and tired, so I packed up and plopped the munchkin on my shoulders and we headed back to the truck. We weren’t waiting long at all till the guys started to roll in. The munchkin’s idea of a good day fishing, was eating flavor blasted cheddar cheese goldfish on the tailgate of the pickup. There were a couple of brookies, otherwise known as brook trout, thrown in the cooler and we were off again to find a better spot.   

 

   We made a slight detour, but that’s a story for a different day. Instead of going back the way we came, we headed deeper into the range and farther up the mountain. Rod promised me pictures of wild horses. I was skeptical but hopeful at the same time. I’d only seen a couple of wild horses before over by Pinedale, WY. Those horses were so used to the hub-ub of people, that they just looked shy, not wild. He told me where to look and it wasn’t long after that we spotted them. They stood like sentinels, high on a ridge, standing out against the skyline.

 

    We continued to wind up the road higher and higher, then Rod told the Cowboy to park the truck. There they were, close to 150 by our count. Not one herd, they were clearly separated into individual bands. Still, they were all on the same hill side. I’d never heard of wild horses doing that before. Rod said in all his years of living up here, he’d never seen it before either. While we took in the views, Rod and his son hiked up the steep hillside to visit Rod’s dad. His dad raised his family in these hills, built a herd in these hills, so when he died the family brought him back to these hills. It was a gorgeous place where you could see across the valley and beyond. It was where Rod and his father had found a spring and then put a stock tank there. It was an oasis.

 

    We hopped back into the truck and went over the next hill and off to the left were 2 more bands of horses. We continued up the mountain and wound around till we were on the same hill where the groups of horses were standing. I’m pretty sure it was a game or stock trail, but the guys were convinced it was a 2 track. So off the beaten path we went in search of pictures for me. They were bound and determined to get pictures. We crept close in the truck then I’d bail out and snap pictures. The horses still weren’t that worried about us, I guess it’s because there is really no traffic up there. We got a bit closer in the truck, so I bailed out again. This time I was a little close for their comfort and some started milling around and looking for a way out. I spooked about 30 more from the far side of the hill that we had not seen before. I was of course, snapping pictures like a crazy woman!

 

    Some just stood there and looked at me as I was jogging to one spot, snapping pictures and jogging to the next spot. Some started to take off and head for the trees. The closest band to me was a group of sorrel mares with a grey stud. He came out from his mares to get a closer look at us, then turned his mares and headed up and over the hill. It was breathtaking.

 

    We headed back to the road and on with our adventure. Up and over the hill till we dropped down the other side into a beautiful valley. There were a few cows on this side of the range, along with another band of horses. Again, I bailed and snapped. I was so close this time. The stud took a few steps towards me and began pawing the dirt and squealing his warning. Once he figured I wasn’t leaving, he got his mares on the move and they slipped behind the hill and out of sight. They just stayed there though, hiding. We went on about our trip and heard many more stories of life on the range.

 

    We came off the mountain and we were all ready for a bite to eat, especially after the near death experience of a rickety old bridge. Seriously, it swayed, shook, and loudly popped as we went across. All of us had turned white. Once across we saw the sign, “Cross at your own risk”. Well that would have been helpful to see BEFORE you actually cross it!

 

    After a bite to eat in Dubois, we headed home, still looking for a place to fish. It was almost dark when we headed up Dinwoody canyon to see some petroglyphs. When we got there, I headed up the hill to again, snap pictures. There wasn’t any fishing going on, so we didn’t stay long as it was also getting dark very quickly. It was still so fascinating. It was a very spiritual place indeed.

 

    This day was proof positive that you don’t have to go to church on Sunday, to get close to God. I know what every Cowboy means when they say that they see and talk to God every day, even if it isn’t in a church pew. I marveled at His scenery, awed at His creatures, and saw proof that even people so long, long ago knew that there was a Higher Power. I don’t think it’s humanly possible to see all those things and not have a peace come over you. It was a great day.   

  

The pictures are HERE 

A Date in the Sagebrush

   

    As a woman, every once in a while, I turn into a sappy girl and I need a little romance in my life. It’s the nature of the Estrogen beast. So the other day, when the Cowboy told me he could use my help I jumped at the chance for a “date”. Now would be a good time to review the “Guidelines” post, in case you forgot the first part of #3. Obviously Julie Carter, who wrote these guidelines, is a much wiser woman than I. Anyway, I fell for it, again.

 

    My in-laws were in town, so we had a babysitter for the munchkin. I got all “dressed up”, you know, jeans, long sleeve shirt (deer flies are the devil), and hat. This wasn’t the type of date that the man opens the car door, so instead he put my spurs on my boots and caught my horse. I was busy packing a diaper bag and moving the car seat when I noticed he even sprayed my horse with fly spray.

 

    I was done getting the munchkin ready, so I saddled my horse (he has to really really want something for him to be that romantic and saddle my horse for me, haha). In no time at all, we were loaded and headed out the driveway. I told him thanks for taking me and he gave me a look that sealed the deal. He knew that I’d forgotten the guidelines. What a turd, luring me in with romantic notions!

 

    Upon arrival, he gave me the general directions and layout of the pasture. The 100 or so pairs of momma cows and calves had broke through the fence and wandered into the sagebrush. There wasn’t a gate to speak of so we had to bring them back through the hole in the fence. We rode together for a little while and then split off. It’s funny how you don't have to be right next to someone but you can still feel close to them. I was having all kinds of flashbacks to the days when I was his only help, and it was do or die. I was proud of myself for not asking a 1,000 questions and just knowing what needed to be done.

 

    I headed off at a trot, knowing full well I had a good distance to go till I hit the other fence line, also knowing that I had the slow horse. We were picking our way through the sagebrush when I remembered how much I love that smell. A warm breeze on your face, the hint of fly spray being sweated off your horse, the sweet smell of sagebrush as you brush up against it, and the mountains in the distance, hmmm little pieces of heaven. I was snapped out of my little day dream every time my horse thought it was easier to jump the sagebrush than go around it. I looked up and thought a calf had climbed through the fence, but when I got closer I saw it wasn’t one of ours. Then I went to get a bull moving, but he was a little lame, so I left him and started on with the other cows. By this time the Cowboy had pushed a couple off the hill and joined up with the rest of us. We continued pushing and sweeping without a word between us.

 

    I only had one minor panic attack when I had to go through the herd of mares and babies to pick up a few cows that were hiding. I didn’t have any problem with the mares, it was the stud that started to come after me and got a little too close for my comfort. When I yelled and he realized we weren’t interested in his mares, he backed off. Yet another first for me, not going to lie, I was a little scared for a minute.

  

   We finally made it to the hole in the fence and started the task of getting them through. I held the herd on the one side to keep them from running down the fence and missing the hole. The Cowboy kept pushing and sweeping. It was a slow process, since only a couple could go through at a time, but it went off without a hitch. I really wanted to trade jobs since I knew if they blew past the hole, I’d be the only thing to stop them from scattering to the four winds. Luckily, I only had one try me and so I had to go after one and turn her back on the fence. It was right about now I remembered guideline #5, count everything. I didn't, but this time I got away with it, whew! 

 

    When we were done pushing cows, and the fence was back up (till it could be permanently fixed), the Cowboy gave his horse a “good job” pat on the neck and a few words of encouragement. When we got back to the trailer, his dog got a “good boy”. When we were back at the house, over an hour after the fact, his wife got a “yeah you did alright, I didn’t have to tell you what to do”.

 

    It’s official, just in case I had any doubts before…..there are no romantic notions intended when a Cowboy says he needs your help. Don’t get me wrong, we had a good time and laughed and joked and it was nice to just get out and ride along side my husband. However, I’ve come to the conclusion that there are no romantic dates in the sagebrush.   

Ike's Eventful Day

    As most of you know, I went on a trail ride for St. Jude’s on Saturday. I’m sure everyone is curious as to how it went, especially those of you that donated. Well I won’t keep you in suspense, if you haven’t already heard; we raised $4,400 with more donations still coming in to round it out to around $4,500. This was the 2^nd biggest year that they’ve had out of 7, and double from last year.

 

    Let’s back track a bit though and start the day first. I was in a mad rush to get everything around. No matter how much I plan and do the day before, there’s always the last minute things that can’t be helped. The Cowboy helped me get the saddle and horse loaded while I got the munchkin dressed and ready. Then I dropped the Cowboy off at the other end of the ranch and was on my way to fuel up and head out. I left Lander at 7:15am and pulled into the park at 9:36am. Not too bad I thought. I called Lona, the event coordinator, to tell her I was running late and I’d catch up if I needed to. Well, no worries, I made it. Hurry quick saddled up, passed off the munchkin to Ga-gaw, popped a quick squat then put on another bra in the trailer and was ready to go.

 

    We had a few pictures taken with everyone together and then we were off. I headed towards the front since Grey Horse has a “let’s cover some country” type of attitude and walk. Without fail, every time another horse would get in front of him, he’d put his ears slightly back, just so I knew he was annoyed. Then I’d let him out front for a bit and it was like flipping a switch, his ears forward and he would walk faster and he’d stop playing with the bit.

 

    We went through some sagebrush, down some hills, through the trees along the river, to Grandmother’s House…no just kidding. Anyway, it was a good ride, lots of different scenery, no mishaps, just a good ride. We stopped at one point for a moment of silence for the children we were riding for and a time to share the names of people in our own lives that were affected by cancer. There were several names called out of loved ones. I spoke up for my husband, “Jayme Robert Pfaff, age 24”. The Cowboy and Jay were best buds since they were in diapers, but that is a different story. The good truly do die young.

 

    After a prayer and a few tears we moved forward. Before long we were back at the beginning and were ready to break for lunch. Cinches were loosened and horses were watered before we all headed down to eat. A silent observation of mine was no matter what level of rider at what event, be it equine or otherwise, you always see the livestock tended to before the people themselves.

 

    We sat down for lunch and numbers were crunched and we passed out awards. Some of the riders had to leave and a few of us decided to stay and try a water crossing. I had a babysitter and a day off so of course I kept riding. The 8 of us headed out and Grey Horse was happy to lead the way. I think he was looking for cows, but whatever. We made our way to the water, and of course he had to drink first and then walk across. The other 6 riders followed suit with only mild hesitation from one. If you are counting, that leaves one rider on the other side. A Paint mare named “Boo”, not because of spooking, but from the little girl on Monsters Inc. (Disney movie). Boo had made buddies with Grey Horse for most of the ride, but she was an individual. When most horses would want to cross to get to the rest of the “herd”, she was flexing her “Miss Independence” muscles. She could care less that the rest of us were already across. Then a few other attempts were made at leading her across. None were working.

 

    So my retarded butt thought well, she made buddies with Grey Horse, so maybe I can pony her across. If you don’t know what “pony” means, it’s when a rider takes the lead rope of another horse (with or without a passenger) and leads them around. So I spoke up and said that I would try. After all, I was riding a roping saddle and a horse that wasn’t afraid to pull against pressure. So we started out. The first attempt Grey Horse wasn’t real sure what to do, so he backed off of the pressure of the lead rope around the saddle horn. We made a circle and headed for the water again.

 

    I’m not sure, but it felt like that mare sat square on her butt. Well, Grey Horse got the idea, and put his head down and pulled her forward into the water. Then she decided to jump the water, which made her bump into Grey Horse. He wasn’t really sure how to deal with that so he kind of jumped forward and took off. To his credit, he didn’t blow up, not even a little bit. So here I am, half out of the saddle, holding a lead rope attached to a paint mare, and trying to stop Grey Horse before running into other horses. Well, I got his one rein pulled around and he came to a stop, just without me on top. I saw it coming. While I was flying through the air, I was looking him in the eye with my back towards the ground and feet pointed to the sky. The worst part was, as I was flying, he was still moving, so the thought “tuck and roll” went through my head. Well luckily, he stopped dead in his tracks, so I didn’t get stepped on. I hopped back up and gave him so much loving it wasn’t funny. The other riders must have thought I was nuts, but they didn’t know what he could have done and didn’t! He even stepped on the mare’s halter so she didn’t run off, what a gentleman, haha.

 

    So after a few minutes of composure and check to make sure he wasn’t hurt, I was back in the saddle. Now, let me just share this detail with you, we were on an island. There’s no where to go but back through the water. To answer the question in your mind, no, she wasn’t any more willing to cross it the second time than she was the first.

 

    I took Boo’s lead rope once again and paused to tell everyone that after today I’d better have a few more readers of this blog! I nudged Grey Horse closer to the water and brought Boo with me. She was looking and trying to figure things out this time all by herself. I took Grey Horse into the middle of the water and Boo was still trying and even getting her feet a little wet. So I gave her some slack so she could figure things out and hopefully wouldn’t jump this time. She did a little tap dance and even moved away from us a bit to find her own path. I gave a little tug when she looked like she was going to chicken out. I steered Grey Horse well out of the way up the slight hill. I guess my idea of “well out of the way” and Boo’s idea of it were two different things.

 

    I turned back around to make sure Grey Horse was pointed in the right direction and heard some water splash. I didn’t feel a bunch of slack in the rope though, so I thought Boo was still headed straight. Right then I felt Grey Horse stumble a bit and saw him go down on his left knee. He stood back up and I didn’t think anything about it. My next thought was, “Hmmm, why am I looking up at Grey Horse and Boo?” Yes, I was in the dirt, again.

 

    Grey Horse side stepped away from Boo, since her lead rope was still over the saddle. I jumped up and went after my horse, who stopped after a few seconds and a “whoa” from me. I gathered him up and started to look him over again. After a few “are you ok” and “I’m fine’s”, I was filled in on what happened. When Boo decided to cross, she jumped again. This time she landed on top of Grey Horse. Everyone thought that she had knocked me off. Instead, when she came down on him, he kicked out at her and kind of swung his body around. This is where I exited stage left and I didn’t see it coming that time! He was just trying to defend himself against the creature that in his mind was probably trying to eat him!

 

    Once I was filled in on the details, I gave Grey Horse another hug and looked him over again. Sure enough, he had 2 wet hoof prints on his butt, one on either side of his backbone. I walked him around a bit and he never took a bad step, so I swung aboard again. We continued on for a while until some others needed to head back. I kept going and finished the loop. Speaking of loops…I probably sounded like a fruit loop after all that!

 

    I loaded Grey Horse up and we were off to pick up the munchkin. I called my sister and she said I should stay the night with my in-laws since I probably knocked my head harder than I thought since I wasn’t making much sense. I then had to explain what the Grey Horse used to be like and what he could have done in that situation. Then I had to explain how much of a mental hurdle that was for me.

 

    Remember a while ago when I said I had that horse flip over backwards on me? Well, that accident along with becoming a mommy and I don’t know what else, made me a bit of a chicken when it came to riding horses. If I was riding my old man Tango, I was fine, but anything else I would freak myself out so much that I’d almost give myself a freaking panic attack. So even taking a different horse that I’d only rode 2 times before a long ride was HUGE for me! Now trusting this horse to pony another across a creek, even bigger! Landing in the dirt, twice, you can’t even imagine how proud of myself I was! It’s official, Grey Horse has secured his name as Ike for such good behavior!

 

    When I called the Cowboy to tell him all that had happened his words of wisdom went something like this. “Why did you do that? It wasn’t his fault you fell off. If you’d have done it this way, you never would have wrecked.” So yes, I could have done things different, but the point was….I did it. And got back on, twice!!!

 

Money I raised for St. Jude-- $360.00

Tylenol for sore muscles and bruises -- $2.50   

Gaining confidence by landing in the dirt-- PRICELESS    

 

Scary Sheep

    The other day our daughter had her first encounter with sheep. She's been around countless cattle and horses, but never sheep. She hasn't been a bit scared of a bawling calf, a nervous horse, a loud cow, or a chute rattling calf being branded. Apparently, sheep are the scariest things known to an almost 2 year old. I suppose maybe she's right, since the Grey Horse agrees with her whole heartedly.

   We were just coming back from a wedding and had timed our days off perfectly to give us a few more to spare. As luck would have it, the Powder River Sheep Herders Fair was taking place. The Cowboy had been there several times before, but not in recent years. He first started attending when he was in high school. He would help his best friend (on his parents ranch) all through the year and especially during the summers. They ran about 1200 cow/calf pairs and 8000 ewes. As much as he might not like to admit it, he knows his way around sheep (insert Wyoming sheep jokes here, haha).

    On our way to the big event (yes, it is a big deal in those parts), he was telling me how funny it was because every year there was at least one guy that would get bucked off. Apparently some horses just don't know what to think about sheep. So we finally arrive to enjoy the festivities only to be told that we are entered in the ribbon roping, and the Grey Horse has been hauled for The Cowboy to ride. Well, I can't deny that I freaked out a bit. I'd never even seen this thing done before and here we were 4th in line. Hmmm, well I guess my old saying still rings true...if I can pull a calf by sticking my hand up you know where, I guess I can do this too!

    Before I knew it, we were in the arena being auctioned off for the calcutta. SOLD $25. Not the greatest price, since most were in the hundreds, some were over $500. We went back out of the arena and I had to run to the truck. You see I was supposed to be watching in the stands. It was literally over 100 degrees, so I donned my capri pants and flip flops for the spectator sport. Well, no time to change, (besides all our clothes were back at the motel) so I improvised. I did have my boots in the back of the truck and a day-old worn shirt of the Cowboys. I tucked in my capri's in my boots and buttoned up the husband's shirt (didn't want the girls making a guest appearance since all I had on was a tank top). 

    I now had a bunch of people telling me the rules and tricks of the trade. Start behind white chalk line a one end of arena, sheep is let out of chute from the opposite end, man riding horse ropes the sheep any way he can, woman runs up to sheep, grabs the ribbon off of said sheep and runs for all she's worth back to cross white chalk line. I watched the first 3 go off without a hitch. The times weren't the best I was told, but it seemed alright to me. Then we were up, and a sudden mantra went through my head....crap, crap, crap, what the heck are you doing? You've never even touched a sheep that wasn't in a pen at the county fair!

    Well, as my foot crossed the line there was no time for panic, the sheep was already let out. This started one of the longest 3 minutes of my life. Cowboy took it easy so as not to excite both sheep and Grey Horse. I guess the sheep didn't get the memo that it was supposed to go nice and easy. Sheep freaked out like sheep do. Amazingly, the grey horse was fine with all this. Then the Cowboy caught the sheep for a second. Sheep slipped through loop. Not before letting out a bawl like only a sheep can do. This is where Grey Horse didn't do so well.

    If that horse could talk, I think we would have washed his mouth out with soap. The look, snort, squeal, and finally aerial show, pretty much sums it all up. So now, not only do I not know what I'm doing, I'm stuck in the arena with a wild sheep, a bucking horse and a husband trying to yell orders for me to fix it all. Well, the extent of my fixing was me barely getting out of the way of one Grey Horse preoccupied with escaping a silly sheep.

    Through it all, The Cowboy caught the sheep. Well kind of. He threw his loop at it's head and it ran through, but came tight on his hind feet. So here I come running at this sheep before it gets loose. This causes a chain of events. Sheep bawls, horse freaks out, husband yells "hurry up", I grab ribbon and run in the opposite direction of the train wreck that's happening behind me.

   All in all, we had made a good time of under 4 minutes and a clean run. The next day we were auctioned off for $150. We ended up 3rd overall. There were many other festivities that went on as well. Sheep dog trials, sheep hooking (catch one out of a bunch with an old-fashioned sheep hook and bring across the line and tie 3 legs), and sheep roping (like calf-roping in that you rope the sheep then get off your horse and go tie three legs, only you can't have your rope tied to your saddle, just thrown across) and a mutton cook off were among the events.

    It was great fun and there was even a big BBQ before the band started. As we sat down to eat after a hot day of dirt and fun, I had a question. The BBQ sandwiches were yummy so I asked, "What is this? Pulled Pork?" Yes, yes, I did, I said it. The Cowboy looked as if he wanted to disown me. I was at a Sheep Herders Fair, asking if the main meal was pork. Not my finest moment, but I blame it on the heat and the scary sheep.

 

To see some pics of the events click here

     

The Evolution of a Grey Horse, continued

If you haven't read Part One, just scroll down to get the whole story...

 

Part Two:

    The Grey horse was saddled up and ready to go, even if he was mad at the world. The Cowboy stepped on and made a few "warm-up" circles. It was very evident by the way the Grey Horse was traveling that he was about to blow. Just by the slight hump in his back, the look in his eye, the swish of his tail, and the ever telling snorts he was letting out, you could tell it was building.

    As the Cowboy looked up at me and said,"See not so bad", it happened. This wasn't a "hog-fart" around episode. This was full out war in the Grey Horse's mind and he was loaded for bear. All those aerial antics proved small in comparison to the show he gave me. He looked almost as rhythmic as a trained bucking horse. You could set your watch to his jumps. Front hooves hit the dirt....tick...body rolls up to the air...tick...lifts his hips...tick..hind feet extend toward the sky...tick...hind feet hit the dirt...tick...jumps forward with front feet...tick...over and over and over again. This horse doesn't know how to quit anything when he should. Neither does the Cowboy.

    The scene took me back to when I first met him riding bucking horses. How my heart always skipped a beat till he was safe back on his own two feet. I remembered the knot in my throat when he wouldn't land on his feet. Then it hit me, it was just me here. The thought of my Cowboy not being able to ride this Grey Horse hadn't crossed my mind. He'd never been thrown from a saddle horse before, even if it was just a colt and had never been ridden. What if he got caught up in a stirrup or something else? There were no pick-up men (the guys on horseback that help the rider get off safe), no medics, and no other cowboys to help him to his feet. It was just me! What the heck would I do?

    Lucky for me, I didn't have much time to ponder all these things. The Cowboy got the Grey Horse shut down by pulling his head around to the side, "disabling" the bucking mechanism so-ta-speak. The stop of the show wasn't because of the horse, he was still going strong, not even thinking about weakening. The Cowboy always says that if a horse is squealing and making noise while they buck it's because they're giving it their all. If one is a quiet bucker, chances are, they're just getting started. Guess which one Grey Horse was....silent as a church mouse. After a few minutes to catch their breath, off they went to the neighbor's house. I still watched them for a couple of miles to make sure all was well.

    They both returned safe and sound later that afternoon. I guess some where around mile 3 or 4, they came to an agreement, don't kill me I won't kill you. They went on to gather some cows, rope a few steers and eventually have a nice ride home. This was a major improvement for the Grey Horse. The last time the Cowboy tried to rope off of him, he flipped over backwards. You can normally rope off of him any day of the week, but he just got mad and threw a fit.

    Not too long after all this, we took a job up on "the mountain" as we call it. It was time for the fall gather and guess who was nominated for the ride, none other than Grey Horse. The ranch was about 80,000 acres, give or take a few, and the Cowboy was assigned one end of it. "Either he's going to do something stupid and get me killed, or he's going to act stupid and I'm going to kill him." Those were the exact words of the Cowboy. Well, the Grey Horse's luck held out and neither happened. He rode like a dream, ears always forward, eyes alert, and ready to travel some country. Together they rode 20 miles a day, every day for 2 weeks straight. That horse just doesn't have any quit in him.   

    Now that time as passed and the Grey Horse has been ridden many, many miles, you can just step on and ride off. His antics are fewer and farther between. He does still love to be hosed down in the hot summer days. He still curls his upper lip up if you rub his nose. He'll eat anything you give him. He knows when he's in trouble just by the tone of your voice. He finds a mud hole and rolls in it till you can't tell his true color for at least a week. He always knows when you're thinking of selling him, because then he's sure to mind his P's and Q's till the thought goes away. He's still the first one to feel a storm coming on and runs around trying to get the other horses to play.

    Just the other day the herd came flying over the hill bucking and kicking the whole way. Guess who was in front? Grey Horse. When they all came to a halt, he was still running a muck, trying to get others to play with him. When rearing and kicking didn't do the trick, he took off like he was shot out of a cannon. It finally worked and the herd was off again. The were following Ike with his half-grown main (from all the fence ducking) flying in the wind. Yes, I said Ike. The Cowboy told me the other day that a horse with that much unique character deserves a name. Even if he does get demoted due to bad behavior to "the Grey Horse", some where deep down, he'll always be Ike. 

 

P.S. you can see a picture of Ike and the Cowboy in my Everyday Life photo album!

 

 

 

 

The Evolution of a Grey Horse

    The last time I wrote a story about the Cowboy, he was a little less than enthused, since it was his most embarrassing. He’s now very proud of the fact that his “skunked” story received the most comments from all of you. He always asks what I’ll write about next, but when I ask him for ideas, he’s usually fresh out. He’s usually a man of few words, so when he freely offered up a story, a was a little surprised.

    I think to fully appreciate this story, you need a little background information. I went with my family to a horse sale that my uncle was putting on in Salida, CO. My dad consigned a couple horses there, and I was riding one of them through the sale ring for him. It was a small sale, but had a good showing none the less. I was warming up my dad’s 4 year old paint gelding in the arena, with many potential buyers looking on. He was doing alright, till he thought it would be a great idea to “hog-fart” around. This is a term used by many horse people to describe a horse that is trying to buck, but not really getting the job done because his back feet don’t leave the ground. Still, it’s not cool when they do this, at least not in my book when I‘m the one that‘s on board. So after his little hops and skips we continued riding like nothing happened. Of course my mom (being the eternal biggest fan of her child -- love you mom), was cheering “You go girl, ride ‘em!” in the background.

    So through all this hub-ub going on, I noticed an older cowboy riding a striking grey horse. I instantly thought how of my Cowboy would look on this noble steed, and how he’s always said he likes a nice grey horse. I think it stems from the love affair my husband has with “Lonesome Dove”, as he can quote almost the entire movie randomly. At any rate, I just knew this horse would fit the bill. So, I mustered up the guts to get on this horse, (which I don’t usually do, I get so nervous on horses I don’t “personally” know -- weird I know) and try him out. I figured if I could ride him, the Cowboy was sure to get along with him. He works his magic with problem horses and colts everyday, this would be a vacation for him.

    As luck would have it, that grey horse didn’t sell. The owners wanted more money than anyone was willing to bid, so he was a “no-sale”. This is where years of bartering at garage sales worked in my favor. I went to the truck where the grey horse was “parked”, and started talking shop. Before I knew it, I had him agreeing to half the price that he was “no-sold” for. This might have been a clue to the seasoned horse person, but the shopper in me was excited at a deal. Turns out, they really wanted to get rid of this grey horse.

    He loaded in the trailer like a dream and was a well-mannered gentleman. He was built right, had good papers (pedigree), and rode great for me at the sale. As his luck would have it, the Cowboy couldn’t get right on his new steed due to being busy with others horses and day to day life. So Ike was his new name, and a pasture full of belly deep grass was his home. When the Cowboy was finally able to devote some time to Ike, his first words to me were, “I thought you said this horse was broke.” His second phrase to me went something like this, “Don’t ever buy me a horse without me being around. Don’t ever buy any horse without me being around. Better yet, don’t ever buy a horse. Leave that to me.”

    So finally after some prodding from me, the Cowboy finally admitted that this horse was okay, but he needed a bunch of work to get him riding good. So began the journey of what I like to call, Ike’s “finishing school”. The Cowboy was soon getting along just fine with him and was using him almost every day. They went out gathering cows, team roping and just riding.

    The Cowboy went out of town for a few weeks, off and on, helping out a friend build some fence. I was huge Prego (8 months) and the doctor wouldn’t let me ride anymore, so the horses got fat and sassy off good green grass. We also had an 80 acre field of alfalfa next to our house. We had a single strand fence around the yard and I would turn out the horses during the day to graze and “mow” my lawn. I was waddling around outside, planning out my garden, when I noticed I was short one grey horse. He had figured out that if he put his head under the wire he could lift it up, or he’d find a low spot and just step over and he was free to graze on the “good stuff”, alfalfa.

    Now, if you don’t or have never owned a horse, let me explain a bit about the difference between grass and alfalfa. Both are a great source of nutrients that horses need. In the winter we usually feed a mix of grass and alfalfa hay. As we know, even in humans, too much of a good thing can be bad. In the case of this grey horse, he seriously needs to go to AEA. Alfalfa Eaters Anonymous. He gets a whiff of it and falls off the wagon. One little bite of it (or even grain for that matter), and he’s wiggin out for days. So until the make Ritalin for horses, he’s off the stuff for good.

    This is how his “escape artist” days started. My patchwork fence repairing jobs were not cutting it. So when the Cowboy got home, we went to building a better fence. Then the aerial shows began. He was at least smart enough not to try the wire. The wooden gate was his favorite. He was so sneaky about it too. He’d stand, flat footed, a few feet away from a gate that was a bit over 5 feet tall, and clear it without a sound. Let me just say this horse is 14.3 hands tall, which is 59 inches from ground to withers (see attached photo at bottom of page). The first time I saw that I just had to laugh. Is it even possible to keep this horse in a fence? Ike soon turned into Grey Horse, as he was demoted for bad behavior.

    Shortly after all these escapes kept occurring, our daughter was born. So riding Grey Horse was again put on the back burner. A couple weeks later, the Cowboy announced he was going to ride the Grey Horse to the neighbors house for coffee. This was a few miles away, and he figured by the time he got there, Grey Horse would have worked out all the bugs and alfalfa. I watched from the driveway as the Cowboy stepped on. Somewhere in the back of my mind I thought, “This can’t end well.” Well at 6:30 am Grey Horse got his candy (alfalfa) taken away and he was swollen up mad at the world.

    To be continued...

This isn't the Grey Horse, but it gives you an idea of how a horse is measured.

 

"Mellow" Yellow

   I went out with the Cowboy yesterday to check cows, since we are due to start calving just any day now. It brought back a whole flood of memories. I knew if we found any “heavies” (due to pop any second) it would mean more work by way of sorting them off and bringing them closer to the calving sheds. I couldn’t help but remember the first time I’d ever sorted heavies (or anything else for that matter) on horseback.  

   The Cowboy and I went to catch our horses when I was informed that I should ride “Mellow” Yellow. I put up a slight protest, but I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere. At the time the best horse on the place was my old man Tango. I’ve had him longer than I’ve had my husband. Cowboy said he needed to ride him in case things got out of hand. I’m not the least bit afraid to say that I’m not the most accomplished rider, so getting on a new horse still makes me a little nervous.

    My nerves were eased a little at the fact that she was 20 something years old at last count. She was always the last one to get anywhere. Yellow was formerly known as “Pig”, but I quickly changed it because she seemed a little more dainty than that. The nickname “Pig” came from the fact that she was about as big around as she was tall and she kinda snorted funny when you rode her. She was the last of a bloodline that came from the Boss’ mares when he was breeding with a government stud for Calvary re-mounts.

   The Cowboy and I got the horses all saddled and ready to go. As we were walking toward the gate I had to constantly squeeze with my legs just to keep up, otherwise known as “pedaling”. Well, pedaling a bike would have been easier than riding this horse, she was sooooo slow.

   We finally get to the gate and spot our cow. Cowboy told me to just sit a little ways off the gate to make sure she didn’t go past it, while he was going to push her up along the fence. I was relieved, since I didn’t have to try and work this cow on a horse that I was sure might just have a heart attack and die with me still on. No problem, I have the easy job, or so I thought.

   So I sit and watch as Cowboy eases this cow out of the herd without a fuss. Yellow watches too, but only by turning her heard, without moving a foot (that would take extra effort). The Boss was watching too, on the other side of the gate, in his pickup (he couldn’t walk without a walker, but he could still drive around!). I pick up my reins a bit since the cow is now getting close to the gate, she’s found the hole. Then a thought crossed my mind, what is he doing?

   That was about all I had time to think about. Before I could even speak, the cow was past the gate and looking Yellow square in the eyes. The cow started to take a step to the left, so I moved my reins about 3 inches to the left. Now I’m not sure I believe in “out-of-body experiences”, but if I did, I think this moment would be about as close as I’ve come. I didn’t have time to scream, cry, or even grab the saddle horn. Yellow was squatted down, with back feet set, and then she went to cutting this cow. I think you’d be very safe in assuming that I’ve never ridden a cutting horse of any caliber. That cow moved to the left, and yellow slammed her front end to the left, then the right, and left and again right. Each time the cow even thought about moving, Yellow slammed the door of escape shut.

   Now let’s get back to the rider for a second, yeah that was me. Cowboy told me later that she moved so fast it was like he was watching a cartoon. You know the ones where just before they fall they’re suspended in the air till the realize what’s below? Yup, that was me. She ducked out from under me so fast I lost both my stirrups and was suspended in air for a second till she came right back underneath me like nothing ever happened. It was like that’s what she planned all along. Take care of business with the cow and take care of me. Wait a minute….speaking of plans…..

   I was set up. Now it was all making sense. The Boss watching, the easy cow all of a sudden trying to take off. It’s true, my dear loving husband was the mastermind. He had talked to the Boss earlier about Yellow and Boss told him, “oh she’ll watch a cow pretty good”. I’m pretty sure that was the understatement of the year. So my wonderful husband who likes to put me in situations that I can learn from, or sometimes he can laugh from, set me up. He was the one who pushed the cow too hard to get her to square up with Yellow.

   Meanwhile, the cow was through the gate, I was done screaming (yes I know, like it does a bunch of good after the fact), my heart was still pounding, my husband was still laughing, and my horse was freaking out. Yes, “Mellow” Yellow was freaking out. She was acting worse than a 3 year old! Prancing and dancing all over the place, mad at me for taking her away from the cows. I couldn’t get her to stand still, and on the way home, she wouldn’t even think of walking! She was prancing at a trot the whole way.

   The Boss told us later, “You think she’ll watch a cow?” with a huge grin on his face. It didn’t take me long to get over being “set up” like that. I knew if I ever had to hold a bunch of cows or sort something off, I wouldn’t hesitate to catch ol’ “Mellow” Yellow again because she truly loved her job and it made her feel young again.

   I would just make sure to hold on next time.

If you've never seen a cutting horse in action, it's amazing! Here's a link, and pay attention at about 1 minute in. That's just about what my ride looked like (only not nearly as cool since I didn't know what I was doing!).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QLDbecw8DFc