Ridin' the horses

I've always been passionate about horses. Always loved to go riding, or just brush and look at them. My first ride I was probably 3 or 4. It was in someone's house. Not sure why. Hope that little pony didn't make a mess. When my daddy took me to San Diego to visit some family, someone took me riding then. I remember when I was about 6 years old and my grandmother took my cousin to a riding stable that rented out rides. And I wanted to go SO BAD. But, I was forced to wait in the car (because I was having a huge temper tantrum). I was dusty and dirty and remembered wiping my dirty tears on the white bed sheet that Grandma used to protect the upholestry in the car. I didn't get a ride that time, but later that summer after I had calmed down, I did. I collected Bryer model horses, watched dang near every horse movie and read many a horse book (Black Stallions, Misty, Black Beauty, etc). I love horses.

When my father and stepmother first started getting their horses, it was one of the highlights of weekend and summer visits, just to brush them. I taught myself how to french braid on their tails, and enjoyed just clipping them with the electric clippers and brushing their manes and tails. I didn't even mind cleaning their stalls that much (really, Dad, I didn't. Some of my fondest memories are cleaning stalls and listening to the radio).

My father gave me my horse that I still have now. He was one of the first horses whose parents he owned and bred. His name is Dude, and I've had him since I was about 13. Everyone calls him a circus animal, and rightly so. He has a "spirited" streak in him. But he is my baby. I remember when he would be asleep in his stall and I would quietly walk in and lay down with him. He had a way of letting us know if he was out of water in his stall. First he would tear the 5-gallon bucket off the wall and stick it on his head. Then he would run it up and down the slats of his stall making a huge racket. When he would hear us enter the barn, he would then toss his head so that the bucket would fly over the walls of the stall and into the hallway so we could see that it was him out of water.

His spirited side wasn't always so cute. There was an incident with my father and the manure pile that Dude dragged him through. And the time when he tossed me into a fence. I think one time my dad threatened to shoot him with his .38 Special. LOL! He also used to have symptoms of colic about every 6 weeks or so and we would spend hours day and night walking him around praying he would be ok. Oddly enough, once I dragged his butt to New Mexico back in 1995, only one such attack occured.

Today for the first time in about 10 years, the kids and I talked Jeff into letting us ride the horses. It's always been a fear to let the kids ride. After all, why would they need to? We gather our cows with 4-wheelers and a feed truck. Jeff has no intention of letting them rodeo or show them. Then there was the local little 3 year old boy whose horse got spooked by a rope and drug him to death a few years ago.

Mundy is my father-in-law's horse. He's old. He's so old, he's been fitted for armor. He's so old, he's been shot with arrows before. He's so old, Coronado rode him into battle. He's so old...well, you get the picture. Really, he's about 28 years old. He had an accident shortly before Jeff and I were married (13 years ago) and messed up his hind feet. He's enjoyed a retired life out to pasture since.

Being that old and half crippled, Jeff finally decided that he would be gentle enough for his precious children. So we caught him, brushed him and saddled him up. Then Jeff led them around (just in case. Not taking any chances here).

Chance and Ch'ree had a turn

Then just Ch'ree. Mundy kinda has a mind of his own. He runs in two speeds: slow and stop. Here he had decided to stop. Dude was also nickering back in the pens. They weren't too sure of what was going on.

Then Shelby got a turn.

Shelby and Drew together

Drew and Chance. Drew has discovered that he LOVES horses!

After Mundy had his turn, I decided to try out Dude. We had a bit of trouble catching him. When you haven't had a halter on in years, guess you really don't want to get caught. But we finally did. First I brushed him, then lunged him a bit on a line. Then I wondered if I remembered how to saddle a horse. I had a little trouble with straps. Dude and I were raised riding English (he's a Tennessee Walking Horse, not a Quarter Horse like everything else around here), and the hardware and buckles are a bit different than our Western gear, but Jeff set me straight. Dude didn't object too bad with the bit, and I lunged him some more. Finally, I decided to just get on him and see what happened.

Had this been Dude 10 years ago, I'm sure he would have bucked or spun (in fact, I think that's what he did do last time he was ridden, 10 years ago). But I guess age must have mellowed him, and we just walked around for a bit. I even got him to trot a little, but that's it. It was nice just to be on a horse again. It's sad that he is about 22 years old, think of all the years of riding I've missed (doing silly things like birthing and caring for children).

And for a reward, they got a nice big bale of alfalfa. This is Mundy. And he has ALWAYS been this skinny. No matter if he has been wormed and on grain and unlimited supply of good hay (all of the above we have done). He's just a skinny horse. Dude has the exact same treatment and he's kinda fat. Go figure.

"Alfalfa? Alfalfa!! Why do THEY get alfalfa and all we get are cubes and unlimited pasture and haygrazer. We want ALFALFA!!!!" Look at the dust they are stirring up! No, they didn't get any alfalfa. Guess they are mad at us now.

"Where is my alfalfa?"