Horsing Around
A friend and blogger posted her reaction to horses when she was young and it dredged up a few memories of my own. I thought I would go ahead and post my comment here.
I started out on horses very young, I think my 4th birthday present was a trip to Knotts Berry Farm where my only memory was the thrill of sitting atop a cream colored shetland pony tied to a center stake and rode in circles forever. Well I also remember getting my picture taken with the saloon girl statue because my Mom would bring the picture out any time she thought there might be an opportunity to embarrassme until my cheeks would reach the same rosy color as in the photo.
Every Summer until I was 12 or 13 I went back to Arkansas to stay on Grandpa’s farm. I got to feed chickens, slop hogs, milk a cow or two, and take the old retired chestnut plow horse out of the barn for casual stroll around the grounds.The workhorse was old, flea bitten and mangy, sway backed and slower than Grandma in the morning, but to me he was a wild stallion, a knights steed, a thoroughbred racehorse,and Roy Rogers Trigger, Cisco Kid’s Diablo and the Lone Ranger’s White Feller, or Silver as he later became known all rolled into one. I curried and groomed that old nag, treated summer sores, swamped the stall and brought treats every day. It was a tragic day when I discovered that justbecause a horse was named buttercup, that one should never feed fresh buttercups to any livestock.Poor Buttercup nearly died from colic that summer.
By the time I was in my teens I was no longer making annual treks to the homeland. I felt horse saavy enough to hire on as a tour guide in Trabuco Canyon at Beardsley’s horse rental. I fed and cared for a half dozen trail horses, all misfits just like me, it was a perfect summer job. After I got to know the equines I chose my lead horse, Apache. A natural choice becausehe refused to follow the others. I always got a personal laugh when timid riders would gaze at all the horseflesh and thenfocus on Swayback Taffy. She appeared old and docile, but what they didn’t realize is that she spooked real easy and whenclimbing trails she would flinch and buck if a branch swung back on her. It is always important to listen to your trail guide.I had an especial fondness for Shagnasty. He was a right proud Fox Trotter, about 15 hands tall. Grey with black mane and tail, bright eyed amd sure footed. In the corral he was a popular choice for riders, but I reserved Shagnasty and Midnght Lady for the pretty girls with a date. Midnight Lady was very much a gentle lady, but her one flaw was a deep and sincere love for Apache. She would follow him anywhere and not leave his side. Shagnasty was strong, bold and very fast, but if I left a hand full of carrots or apples in a bucket in his stall he could think of nothing else and would invariabley turn tail and run back to the corral about ten minutes into the ride. Sometimes you shouldn’t trust your trail guide. As I said for me it was a great summer job.
