05-04-2009, 02:52 AM
| || |
I used to work with this fairly nice looking latino guy who could vault up onto a 17hh horse bareback. He vowed to teach me how to vault onto a horse from a standstill, so he taught me the tecnhique.. I got all prepped, did a few jumping jacks, stood next to the 13hh pony he had chosen for me to practise on, bounced a few times... and vaulted myself right over the pony's back. Poor pony never looked so disgusted with humans before.. the guy made fun of me for weeks for that one.
I "tested" to see if one horse (just under 17hh) was okay with me riding bareback... after landing on my head in front of 4 or 5 kids (I saw 8 or 10 kids for a short while after) I decided that no, he was not safe to ride bareback.
Dancer refused a jump in the middle of a bounce and I ended up hanging off of her sideways while deciding if it was easier to fall off or climb back on - falling was easier.
One night I was horse-sitting my trainer's barn while she was away. It stormed violently for about an hour so my friend and I decided to check the fences - lo and behold one had been knocked down. By the time we had finished "repairing" it with binder twine, it was dark out. Keep in mind it's springtime and the mud is easily up to mid-calf. The horses have been mixed up between the paddocks so I slop out with a halter and grab Maggie, a mare that was in the wrong paddock. I proceed to get both boots stuck in the mud and Maggie decides that this is an excellent opportunity to scratch her head.
Once I picked myelf out of the muck, thoroughly covered, I discover both my boots thoroughly stuck. I literally have to hold the leadrope of Maggie, sit in the mud, and yank them out one by one.
When I finally get to the gate, still spitting dirt out, my friend looks at me and goes "why the heck did you bring Dakota over? We need Maggie!"
I was at a summer camp when I was 10 or so. I stayed at my trainer's house for a few days instead of having my parents drive back and forth. Anyways, she had us do chores, of course! My friends Chels and Denise and I had taken the manure trailer to the dumping pile. On the way back to the barn, Chels was driving the tractor and Denise and I were balancing in the manure trailer trying not to fall over and get covered in what was left on the bottom. Chels was singing "I wish I were a cowboy" at the top of her lungs and obviously didn't see the bump she was about to go over. Denise and I were yelling at her to slow down, but she didn't hear us for her awful singing.
Well, the tractor made it over the bump, the trailer didn't. It flipped off the hitch (we were so safe, didn't use a chain), and of course me and Denise lost our balance and stepped back behind the wheel base, flipping the whole thing skywards. The hitch, being heavy, klunked down on the ground and Denise and I came rolling all the way from the back of the trailer to the front... covered in manure.
Chels kept on a' goin', singing her little heart out. We watched her go for another quarter mile or so before she realized she was missing her load.