Horses

Horses were not a large part of ranch life for our operation when I was growing up.  The rolling Wyoming gramma grass prairie is treeless, perfect for grazing cattle and easily navigated in the pickup truck.  Our pastures were small to accommodate small groups of registered Hereford bulls, which needed to be separated into groups to keep their fighting to a minimum.  When Dad fed his bulls twice daily, he would hook the feed bunk to the back of the truck and drag it to where the bulls were in the pasture, or he would send us kids out on foot to bring the bulls into the corrals around the barn to be fed.  So we did not have horses around that we rode to do the daily work.

My grandfather gave me a horse when I was five years old.  My two older cousins got matching white and red paint Shetland ponies and mine was brown with black and a little white named Shorty. Dad kept his mane shaved except for a handhold at the base of his neck giving him a bristly look.  I am sure this made keeping his mane tangle and burr free easier, but it meant no mane for a little girl to brush through like the toy ponies in the store.  Shetland ponies are just the right size for a child; however, their temperament is anything but child suited.    My dad would saddle Shorty and get me settled on his back.  I am sure that Dad did not just turn me loose to ride Shorty in the beginning, but  most of my  memories are ones riding by myself and are not pleasant ones.  I did not have fantasies about horses like many young girls; I had realities of scrapes and bruises.

Shorty seemed quite determined to dislodge any child-sized person off his back  before the end of the intended ride was finished.  Windbreaks of caragania trees, scotch pines, juniper trees and Chinese elms protected the house and barn from the stiff Wyoming winds.  These trees offered Shorty a convenient means of scraping me off his back.  I was not strong enough or big enough to convince that child-sized  horse that I was in charge, so when he decided he had enough, that was it.  If the trees were not convenient, the clothes line was a possibility as well.  Out in the pasture the barbwire fence could be quite effective as a deterrent to continue the ride.  Having several kids on his back bareback could prompt him to rear up and dump one rider off the back and then kick up his heels to dump the other rider off over his head.  I did not look forward to riding Shorty, but Dad seemed certain that I could make Shorty behave.  By the time I was confident and strong enough to show him I was boss, Shorty was not a big enough horse for me. 

There were other horses on the ranch over the years that I had good experiences on, but horseback riding was never a favorite pastime for me.  I am sure those early memories did not help my perspective.  My husband's family ranch is rugged with hills, rocks and trees that requires riding horses to work the cattle on a regular basis. All the kids started riding young on old trustworthy horses and had mostly good experiences to build on. Our grandsons ride a gentle horse that our son has ridden for years. Our daughter-in-law gives the boys riding lessons, making sure that they know how to handle the horse and how to handle themselves on the horses. Thankfully, their experiences will be much different from mine.