My Life in a Stall
I know if sounds corny and
overly dramatic, but I love horses. Women and girls say it all the time, but if
a man says they are fond of a pony, well we might have to take his man card
away!
Since my early 20’s, I have
been involved directly or indirectly within the horse business. Directly, I
tried to make it as a trainer/breeder, and then once reality slapped upside the
head, indirectly as an animal health sales rep.
I was a late bloomer to say
the least, not desiring to put my skins on the wall as a horseman until I was well
beyond my formative years. All kinds of variables seem to have flicked the
switch for me. A want of doing something that very few of my friends did was a
contributing factor. Trying to impress people (mainly the female persuasion) is
probably another. All I know is I am sure glad I made my move.
The big step for me was
leaving the comforts of my hometown and moving to Arizona. I worked as an
apprentice (glorified stall cleaner) for an Arabian horse farm in Tucson. I
loved it from day one. The smell of alfalfa hay and sweet feed in the mornings
did me in. The scent of the desert after the infrequent rainstorm didn’t help
much either. While my horsey side kicked in, my mountain lust was beginning
too.
That year in my life was
financially strapping since us “apprentices” only made about $275 a month, plus
a place to sleep. I learned a lot of basic equine techniques and had an
education that at times was trying. The first time I saw a horse receive an
injection of penicillin, my stomach did a flip. I never have figured why, but
I’ve always hated being on the receiving end of a needle, so there you have it.
The toughest day was when a mare got colicky and we had to put her down. I’ll
never forget that night as long as I live. We walked her for hours and she kept
trying to lay down and roll. You could see it in her eyes that she was in awful
pain. After the decision was made to put her down it took a only a few seconds after the vet mainlined
her, to drop right in her tracks. I was still holding the lead rope. Strange
that we have moments like this that will define ourselves.
A trainer I worked for once
in once told me, ”God put horses, cattle and other beasts on this earth to
serve man. We, therefore, are obligated to care for them.” Pretty intense words…
I moved back to Texas that
next year and then after some searching, went to work for a cutting horse
trainer (Joe Heim) in Oklahoma. Being in the saddle all day, every day was an
education in itself. A horse’s individual personality became very apparent to
me here. We rode every kind of horse here; mares, studhorses and geldings. Bloodlines
like Little Peppy and Doc Bar to Colonel Freckles and even some racehorse
lines. It took until several years after my time there that I started to
realize the difference. Some of them loved their lives and never pinned an ear
at anything. Others were cranky and would just as soon be back in their stall
or in the pasture as to be in the working pen.
Joe bred and owned Docs Okie
Quixote. Spoiled and brash, I have never known very many horses like him that
thought their shit didn’t stink. One day Joe told me to exercise him, but this
time, he told me to saddle him and put a side pull on his head. Big deal for me
since Okie was worth a small fortune. Okie didn’t even wait for me to swing my
right leg over his back; he intended to test me for all I was worth. After
about 10 minutes of bucking and running off, throwin’ on the brakes and ducking
left or right trying to peel me off his back, he simply stopped. He acted like
a damn pleasure horse with a nice easy lope. We did this for about 20 minutes
and then I stepped off and put him back in his stall. An absolute gentleman
until I turned my back to walk out of the stall. I sensed a reason to turn and
he tried to nip me on the shoulder. I rode him for another 3 or 4 days and he
tried to buck me off every time. The fifth day I climbed on expecting another
test, but he just walked off, trotted a bit and then we loped for the
remainder. I think he finally figured I wasn’t going to be disrespected and
gave in.
The last day I worked for
Joe, that son of a bitch Okie bit me in the face. So goes respect…
Joe had to put him down a few
years later because of colic. I hate to admit I shed a tear for Okie.
My mare care and repro years
gave me the most respect for equines. I really miss working with the babies and
the mares. Breeding stud horses are another thing all together. Don Henneke
once told me that stud horses have to believe that you are the reason the sun
rises in the morning and sets at night. They will get in your hip pocket if they have
half a chance. Fortunately I never had to work with any bad ones, but I heard
some stories. I had heard of a halter horse stud who was a hand full. Halter
horses can be the most unpredictable because they are constantly being picked
at to stand still, hold their head a certain way , etc. This particular one was
a world champion and he was a dandy. The guy I worked for was asked to help get
the horse collected for breeding. He said as soon as they walked out of the
stall, the horse came at him like a wildcat. He finally backed into a tack room
to get away and had to fight the horse off with an ax handle. I don’t know if
there was any embellishment to the story, but its probably most true.
I’ve seen some studs that
would not “perform” when certain people were visible. Weird. There must be a
backstory to that.
Some mares won’t give you the
slightest clue they are in estrus. They hem and haw around wasting everybody’s
time until you palpate them and see a follicle the size of Dallas. It is truly an
art to be able to figure out if the shy ones are ready to breed or not. At
least heifers will ride each other…
Foaling a mare was a super
rewarding task. I wasn’t crazy about the hurry up and wait part, but when that
mare foaled and the baby stands and nurses for the first time, well that my
friend is a special moment. Sometimes it doesn’t go so well like a breeched
birth or a mare that is in poor shape, but the good outweighs the bad any day
of the week. Breeched births are unavoidable, but the poor mares are a shame.
We foaled a mare in Utah that was owned by a well know person in the industry.
Her ribs were like a xylophone and she was only middle aged; maybe 9 or 10
years old. She lived, but the baby didn’t. If she had been taken care of like
we are supposed to take care of them, the baby would have been fine.
Halter breaking babies is very
rewarding. The progress you see as the babies gentle up is rewarding. I read an
article once about “imprinting” babies at a young age. Part of the article said
to put yourself down to the babies level; basically eye-to-eye. You squat down
in front and work with them to calm them down. Pretty good idea until you are
working with a 4-5 month old that has been in pasture his whole life. I didn’t
have to squat down much but tried to get to his level. It seemed to be working
until he backed into a fence and bumped it with his butt. Next thing I know,
his legs are on my shoulders and I’m getting a good look at his junk. I burned
that article later that night.
I’ve known many people that
have special relationships with horses or
a horse. Rocky Denard had a colt he named Wino that would do anything
Rocky asked him to. Wino would gladly race cars. Yeah, cars.. Rocky & Wino
would be trotting down Hwy 377 in Stephenville coming home from work. A car
would be coming up from behind and he would throw Wino the reins and take off. I’m talking Fast with a capital F. Wino was
cruising through the bar ditch, ears pinned and taking unbelievable strides. Steve
Adams, Grat Williams and I were at Rocky’s house, waiting for him to get off
work. I closed my eyes and cringed
waiting for the wreck that never happened. An amazing horse who trusted Rocky
to the nth degree and only wanted to please.
Wino hurt himself later in
life and couldn’t race cars as much, so Rocky donated him to a disadvantaged
youth riding program. Rocky said Wino’s picture is in the newspaper with these
kids more than Trump.
Giggle…
I sure miss being horseback.
Since I began my second career as an animal health rep, I haven’t sat on a
single horse. I sold my good saddle before we moved back to California, but I
still have one that I bought in a feed store in San Benito, Texas back in the
late 90’s. It has a high cantle and big swells would keep you locked in. It has
a tall brass saddle horn and was built in Pueblo, CO in the 50’s. Pretty punchy looking. I keep it around
because you never know.
Maybe one day I’ll get to sit
on a horse again. All I want to do is trail ride these days, but I like to take
myself back from time to time. I worked for a man in Arizona who said once, “We
have the greatest job in the world. Someone is paying us to ride horses. It don’t
get any better than that.”
It shore don’t…
Another day at the office for Rocky and Wino.
