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Stories from old time horse people you've met.

5K views 42 replies 15 participants last post by  Foxhunter 
#1 ·
Some 35 years ago, I was privileged to be a part of the First Cavalry Division Horse Platoon at Fort Hood Texas. While there I often met men who had been cavalrymen before the horses were replaced with mechanized weaponry. Nearly every one of these men expressed their love of horses, and sadness at their falling out of use. I did meet one who claimed the opposite.

We were doing a demonstration at a local rodeo in Texas. This fellow walks up to where we were tending to our horses afterwards. He told us that he had been in the cavalry at Fort Bliss Texas. We asked him what it was like back then, and he said he hated it. He was glad they had gotten rid of the dirty, stinky smelly, cantankerous beasts. He told us that his family farm was not far from Fort Bliss, and he requested leave to visit his family. The leave was denied, so he went AWOL (absent without leave) and went home anyway. When he came back, they threw him in the stockade (small military jail). He was told that his commanders understood his homesickness, and ordinarily would have given him a light sentence. Instead, they threw the book at him because he had stolen a horse to make the ride to the farm.

I never did ask him why a fellow who hated horses was at a rodeo and took the time to seek us out behind the arena.

I'd love to hear other folks stories of meeting old timers.
 
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#2 ·
This isn't necessarily something that could only happen back in the day, I'm sure it happens now too, but it is an old story :)

So, an (older) woman I know what telling me a story of when she worked at a Thoroughbred racing barn.
There was a practice track that the horses could see from their stall window. One day the trainer told this woman (a girl at the time) to come to a horse's stall and place her hand on his chest. The horse was watching another horse run around the track, intently staring. She placed her hand on his chest and his heart was pounding...hard. He wouldn't take his eyes off the other horse, in his mind he was right there, running. Heart pounding.


I just think that's fantastic!

Cait
 
#3 ·
I am getting up there in years so many of my 'old timers' were horsemen and women before WW2.

One of the toughest people I have ever met was a red headed woman who was a great advocate for women being allowed to compete in three day eventing. She was a top class show jumper/evented and point to point rider in her time. When I knew her she was only show jumping.

All her competition horses were home bred and all were part Hackney -'prior to the war she had competed top level on a pure Hackney mare.

Where I learned to ride the daughter of one of the owners had worked for this woman for several years and sent me, during the school holidays to go ride some ponies for her.

I rode a couple in the arena and the next day she took us out for a hack. All were adult riders and experienced.
The mare I was riding was a hot head. Strong was not enough to label her!
The first few canter I had to swing off her to keep her steady. Then we entered a wooded trail. I was at the back of six or seven horses and off they cantered. I had this mare steady, the others were gaining ground away from me. In the middle of the path was a big old oak tree, the riders all went to the right, I decided in my determination to show the mare who was in control and steered her to the left. She was hanging hard right and at the last moment I decided I had better let her go right. At that point she thought she had better go left. We both hit the tree, me coming off worse! The mare charged off to catch up with the others.
They caught her and rode back to find me. As I sat seeing stars and tweeting birds, leaning against the tree, they rode past. On reaching the start point where they had last seen me, they turned and rode back. I was just about standing when they saw me and I was read the riot act for not calling out when they had gone past.

Another time I was there and riding a big TB point to pointer, he had the reputation of being a run away. He had always gone well for me. We stopped at the village shop and I sat on the horse holding her mare whilst she picked up her newspaper and post. She came out, stood on a bank to mount with the papers in her mouth when my horse suddenly spun around and galloped off with me - flat out through th village, down the hill and going to fast to make the corner we went straight through some rhoderdendrums, across the edge of the pond, over her immaculate lawn and into the stable yard.
I again got a lecture on how rude it was to gallop off when someone was mounting!

I got on well with her despite her terrible temper which was always against people and not the animals. She did tell me that I was very similar to her when she was a girl which, I took to be a compliment.
 
#4 ·
Not sure if the 1950's is old time enough and my own story is what you want but I will share this one.
My first horse and we live at the edge of a city and I rode my horse a lot over the summer but in the late fall with it getting dark so early and me working, I had to ride in the dark. There was a Cemetery across the road from us and we knew the owners so I asked if it would be alright to ride in there in the evenings so I would be off the busy roads. They said ok so that's what I would do.
Then one Sat. I was away on my horse ( I rode miles in those days) and was coming up the road just at dark. One of my neighbours stopped me as he saw me riding up out of the dark and asked me if I ever rode in the Cemetery, I said yes and he started to laugh.
He would be sitting in his front room and would look out the window and see this white blob floating along about 3 feet off the ground and think to himself, it can't be a ghost as I don't believe in them but what is it???
Well, my horse is a light dapple grey with black legs and this was his Cemetery ghost. Mystery solved.
 
#8 ·
I met an older cowboy who told me when he started "working for wages" they caught up horses in the spring, divvied them up between whoever was going to be there for the summer, and that's what they rode. Then they turned the horses, except for what they kept in for light winter work, back out to range.

Next spring they just gathered more and rode those.
 
#9 ·
Got a couple. One was my current trainer when she was teaching me how to drive. Once I was comfortable with the ins and outs of harnessing she just wouldn't stop the horse and make them trot around (and sometimes canter) while I had to unharness.

I'd be drug around, stepped on, pinched, and cussing up a storm while I fought to keep up with the horse, unharness AND figure out a way to stop it and the cart. Eventually I got to the point where I could keep up and unharness a thrashing horse at any gait and stop it within five minuets. Came in real handy for when I started breaking problem horses to cart.

She did (and still does :lol:) a lot of eccentric things to me. When I first started to ride under her she handed me a pair or reins..... that were barbed wire. I learned how to have a nice set of hands on me the hard way. But the lady sure has taught me a lot about reading a horse. I remember the one time when I got a heckuva lot of praise from her was when a horse in training went down and had what I thought at the time to be a broken leg when out on a training ride in the field. She kept spouting praises to all of her buddies because instead of leaving the horse I'd managed to get it into the bed of a truck and hauled the dumb thing back home. I'll never forget that she said I'd be a decent trainer one day because I managed to get a dumb horse with an injured leg into the bed of a truck and keep him calm.

My most memorable moment in meeting an old timer was meeting a man who broke colts in. We were at a function and he was watching me ride and he came up and said: "I'll give you twenty dollars if you can stay on this horse saddle and all". I thought it was easy money so agreed. He whips out a pocket knife and sawed through my girth so it was just my balance keeping the saddle on.

Made me walk trot and canter with the saddle on. Even though I managed it, and got my twenty dollars I decided to take lessons with him.

Yet again I got a harsh punishment because I had to ride in a saddle with no girth every lesson. No bareback, no stirrupless..... no girth. :rofl:

Best lessons and memories (and horse people) I've ever had the privilege to work with.
 
#10 ·
Incitatus - Yikes! I thought I started with some tough task masters.

I was gifted many lessons by a man from Germany who studied classical dressage. I believe he took pity on the street urchin who haunted his barn (me).

On the day of my first lesson I was watching older students ride and the instructor walked up to me and said "You know you have to earn those. What the girls are using." I thought she meant the ones who had spurs, and replied, "Yes. I have to earn my spurs." She laughed and said, "Someday! But you may want to earn stirrups first."

Many lessons later, I was doing cavalletti work by then, I showed up, checked the roster, knew which horse I was to ride, and heard the instructor say to a groom, "Make sure ________'s saddle has stirrups." My heart sank. Tears sprung to my eyes. I knew I was on "borrowed time" and apparently my lesson was being given to another girl, and my gift of lessons had run out.

I was very surprised to find that I had "earned my stirrups" finally!

Those early lessons served me well back in the days of the "Handy Hunter" classes. If two entrants were tied, the judge would occasionally call to "pull the stirrups" and we'd do a modified round. Noooo problem!
 
#11 ·
I can't go to bed without telling about two sisters.

I bummed my way into riding with a hunt club north of where I lived. Someone always had a horse for sale and they would have me ride it to show that "anyone" could.

There were two sisters in their early 70s still hunting, and doing it well. When the hounds would lose the scent they would go around and offer brandy from flasks carried in lovely cases on their saddles, near side. They rode sidesaddle sometimes, too.

They always offered me a sip "just so you don't get chilled, dear." I thought they were so kind to include me, a mere 14 year old, in such a thing.
 
#14 ·
Well, BOOTs, that whiskey in those days was considered medicinal!
Certainly my step dad thought so. I must have been the only nine year old, getting on the school bus, with whiskey on her breath- a great cold remedy!
I honestly did not know antibiotics existed, until I got to High School,as my step Dad also gave the cow with pneumonia a shot of whiskey !
(Can't re-call as to how that cow fared! )
 
#13 ·
Well, there are a lot of old outfitters in our area, thus you get to hear some stories!
A bunch of young wranglers were bringing some horses in off of a distance range, and they left the 'new guy', to stay behind and put some time riding a 'green horse 'back. Guess he has bragged on how well he rode.
When he came into camp a few hours later, they asked him how the colt rode. He said, 'not too bad, just didn't rein very well'
Apparently, they had left him an un broke young horse!
Then, going way back, my mother told me a story about my grandmother, who apparently was quite the rider, in her youth in Germany, before hard life and lots of children changed her into the woman I remember (must get my love of horses from her, as it certainly did not come from my parents! )
Anyway, she was taking lunch out to the field, where one of her brothers was working the field with a stallion. She found her brother lying face down, and the stallion standing on his back with his front feet.
I guess she jammed her fingers into that stallion 's nostrils, got him off her brother and saved his life
My childhood with horses, probably qualifies for 'olden days, but since I told some of them before, won't be repetitious.
 
#19 ·
Well, there are a lot of old outfitters in our area, thus you get to hear some stories!
A bunch of young wranglers were bringing some horses in off of a distance range, and they left the 'new guy', to stay behind and put some time riding a 'green horse 'back. Guess he has bragged on how well he rode.
When he came into camp a few hours later, they asked him how the colt rode. He said, 'not too bad, just didn't rein very well'
Apparently, they had left him an un broke young horse!
Then, going way back, my mother told me a story about my grandmother, who apparently was quite the rider, in her youth in Germany, before hard life and lots of children changed her into the woman I remember (must get my love of horses from her, as it certainly did not come from my parents! )
Anyway, she was taking lunch out to the field, where one of her brothers was working the field with a stallion. She found her brother lying face down, and the stallion standing on his back with his front feet.
I guess she jammed her fingers into that stallion 's nostrils, got him off her brother and saved his life
My childhood with horses, probably qualifies for 'olden days, but since I told some of them before, won't be repetitious.
Smilie, putting the new guy on a problem horse used to be a pretty standard initiation practice. A friend of mine, only slightly older than me tells the story of his only equestrian experience. He had no experience at all with horses or livestock before, or since, but somehow managed to get hired as a wrangler at a dude ranch when he was a teenager. Of course, during the job interview, he had told them he knew what he was doing.

On his first day, he was sent to fetch a horse out of the stall and saddle it up. They didn't bother to tell him that this horse was known to be a holy terror in the stall. As soon as he was in the stall, the horse made a lunge for him. Without thinking, my friend followed his first instinct. He delivered a haymaker to the side of the horses head. The horse backed up to think things over and my friend moved in to put the bridle on.

He had never even seen a bridle, but he knew from watching westerns that the metal bit went in the horses mouth. He draped the leather parts over his arm and tried to shove the bit into the horses mouth. The horse wouldn't cooperate, so he banged the bit against its teeth until it opened its mouth. He held the bit in place and put the headstall on. By the time the rest of the crew came out to check on him, he had the horse saddled and waiting.

They asked if he'd had any problems, and he said "No, everything's fine.". He never told them his secret and they treated him like any other hand. He had several other adventures that summer. Most relating to not having a clue about what he was doing, But apparently the crew never caught on.
 
#15 ·
The woman I mentioned earlier, was taught to rode by her father. Just after the war they would be very busy with horses that had been bred before the war and not handled hardly at all. Many were eight or over.

Her father sent her to the railway station to pick up a horse he had decided to take on. It wasn't a riding horse but an elderly Shire mare. The bridle she had taken didn't fit so she rode it home in the halter it had travelled in. The mare was called Dolly. All during the war she had pulled a coal cart through London. The man that owned her decided she needed retiring.

This mare was used to help break the youngsters. Solid as a rock she knew two commands, walk on and whoa. They used her to teach the unbroken horses to lead by harnessing them to adapted harness on Dolly.
She would get on Dolly with a horse tied to her collar and often launch herself from Dolly onto the youngster to back it. She said it cut down the time it took to get them ridden away by half!

At shows she was ferocious. Her temper at its worse. One show I was showing a young horse in hand and gave her a leg up onto her show jumper. As I did the horse moved and trod on my foot - with its sharp jumping stud. Through my boot there was a well of blood. She got off, grabbed some cotton wool, stuffed it in the hole and told me to take the horse in the ring! When I finished and tried to take my boot off my foot was swollen and the first aid people wanted to cut it off. She told them it was a waste of a good boot! She stood across my leg with her back to me, grabbed the heel with both hands whilst I pushed with my other foot on her butt. The boot came off, not without pain but was wearable afterwards.

She had two horses at a major show. One was her stallion which was probably the only stallion show jumping back then. She had gone clear on both horses early in the class. I had taken them back to the horsebox and under orders brought both back to the arena where she had been sitting in a deck chair watching the class. This was a foldable chair. She had nodded off.
As I led the two horses over so two of the old time top UK show jumpers said to me to go and wake her. I knew something was up and was wary. When I got to where she was so I saw that they had threaded string through her spurs and tied them to the chair. I refused to wake her. They offered to pay me, I retorted with "I wouldn't do it if you offered me a pound each!" They immediately offered me a pound each, a lot of money back then.
I woke her and she jumped up, as she did so, the string pulled the catch of the chair and it collapsed leaving her in a heap on the ground. I was expecting all hell to break loose (that says how much a pound was worth) but she just roared with laughter.

I collected my money.
 
#16 ·
Fox hunting had finished for the season but the hunt decided to have an afternoon on top of the Downs near the riding school.

At the end of the day we rode some of the ponies up to see what was going on. Ponies were only in rope halter sand bareback.

The Downs then we're very overgrown with gorse (furze) so not a brilliant place to hunt. We watched for a while when the hunt called it a day.

I was just fourteen at the time, so felt very honoured when I was asked if I would ride the hunt horses down the road to where the horsebox was parked whilst they took hounds down the steep hill, a shorter route.
I was put up on a big grey mare leading a gelding either side. The two boys hated each other!
I reached the start point, untracked the horses and waited for the others to arrive. I let them graze where there was sparse grass, I was waiting for a long time when the Masters wife arrived in her car. She told me they had found a fox on the way down and were hunting it on foot. She asked me if I wanted a drink and I said I would love a lime juice. She went into the pub and returned with a vodka and lime. (She was elderly and a bit deaf) later her even older husband came off th evil cussing about cows. He had been unable to keep up and in walking down the steep hill had trodden on a cow pat and slipped. His back was covered in poop as he had slid down.
He went into the pub and came out with another vodka,
By the time hounds were brought down I was feeling slightly woozy, I had had four drinks. I had a couple more before walking home.
My sister had been in for a good two hours before I reached home. I was well and truly sozzled!
 
#17 ·
I met a lady two summers ago at polo. Her husband asked her to tell me about what she used to do for her dad, a famous American player.

When she was 8 years old, her father would saddle one polo pony, put her up, and have her lead 5 others to the field. The six would be the string he played that day. The field was 4 or 5 miles from their property. And the route took her along a two-lane highway.

Once at the field, she helped as she could, holding, untacking, and bathing the horses. Then rode one and led the remaining 5 back home.
 
#18 ·
I think that life was tougher with horses not so many years ago.

I know that falling off was part of the deal. You just laughed, got back and carried on.
Injuries were worn with pride whether it was a bruise or a broken arm. Neither stopped us from riding the following week.

I busted my leg scrumping (stealing apples out of an orchard) the group with me carried me half a mile to the Cottage Hospital. I had my leg set given crutches and i went back to the stables in time to ride the ponies bareback - carrying the crutches, to their fields.
When I got home my Mother asked what I had done, when I told her she said it served me right. Worse to happen before you die!
It never stopped me going to the stables and by the end of a week I needed a new plaster as the one I had on was disintegrating.

I do chuckle when I hear people worried about getting back on when they have fallen from their horse.
 
#22 ·
I think that life was tougher with horses not so many years ago.

I know that falling off was part of the deal. You just laughed, got back and carried on.
Injuries were worn with pride whether it was a bruise or a broken arm. Neither stopped us from riding the following week.
I think so.

I broke a previously unhandled 8 year old gelding. I was just getting him going and wanted to take him for work that day. I was 18 and he was purrrty.

The cow boss told me I could if I could get on him like a broke horse. Wellll, I had been cheeking him up to that point, but was hoping I could cheat a mount on him. I started up with loose reins and he broke in two. I landed on the only little pile of rocks around and was nearly immobilized.

I told the boss I wanted to go to the hospital and he said "Then get."

I had a nasty break on my tailbone. I asked the doctor what he could do about it. He giggled and asked "What do you want me to do? Put your butt in a sling?" (an American slang for being in a tough spot) All the nurses laughed.

He told me to take a month off and laughed again. Then said to call his office and tell them when I got horseback again.

Four days. Mostly in two point. But I was horseback. :)
 
#20 ·
One time many years ago, some neighbours of my friend had a horse that would not let his feet be handled. He was a holy terror and several farriers had attempted to shoe him but with no success.
My friend called me to tell me the owners were hiring an old time trainer to come and help get the shoes on the horse. The horse was great for riding and everything but working with his feet. They had made an appointment with the trainer and farrier and my friend invited me to come up with her to observe the proceedure.
We were standing quietly off to one side and the owners and farrier were waiting with the horse and up the lane comes an old vehicle. It stopped and an little old man climbed out. His face was weathered and wrinkled and his hands were knarled and lumpy from arthritis. He hobbled over to the trunk, got out some sections of white rope, tossed them over his shoulder with a practised swing. He smiled and nodded politely to us as he passed. I looked over at the Farrier and could see an incredulous and somewhat unblieving look on his face. The trainer went to the horse and put his ropes on him, talked quietly to the people and then nodded to the farrier who started to pick up a foot and the horse went into his refusal. In less than a second the horse was quietly laid down on the ground. The trainer talked to him for a few seconds then let him up. The proceedure was repeated and then the third time the horse stood quietly like a pro while the shoes were put on.
It was really something to see, there was no shouting or hitting, everything was calm and quiet and the horse gave in quickley.
Shoeing done the trainer picked up his ropes and swung them up over his shoulder and hobbled off to his car, giving us a polite nod and smile on his way past.
It was something I have remembered and am still impressed with this whole proceedure.
I think the trainer came back one more time and then after that the horse was fine with his feet and a very successful show horse.
 
#21 ·
20 odd years ago, when I lived in California, there was an old (and I mean, in his 70s old) Hollywood trainer who lived a few miles away. I frequently rode past his place, sometimes on my good, well seasoned trail horse, sometimes on one of my newly broke, and sometimes on the good ol' boy ponying a youngster not yet ridden.
One day as I'm riding through the field behind his place, he whistles and waves me over, so - since I'd been dying to meet him - I went. I was on a young paint who was only on his second ride outside the property - and the old guy asked me if he could ride him for a sec. "Sure!"
He bounced up onto that horse like a 20 year old, rode around a bit, came back, dismounted and said, "Not bad, girlie!"
I rode home with a grin that took a solid week to wear off!
 
#25 ·
20 odd years ago, when I lived in California, there was an old (and I mean, in his 70s old) Hollywood trainer who lived a few miles away. I frequently rode past his place, sometimes on my good, well seasoned trail horse, sometimes on one of my newly broke, and sometimes on the good ol' boy ponying a youngster not yet ridden.
One day as I'm riding through the field behind his place, he whistles and waves me over, so - since I'd been dying to meet him - I went. I was on a young paint who was only on his second ride outside the property - and the old guy asked me if he could ride him for a sec. "Sure!"
He bounced up onto that horse like a 20 year old, rode around a bit, came back, dismounted and said, "Not bad, girlie!"
I rode home with a grin that took a solid week to wear off!
Hey Change "in his 70's old"?? I guess it all depends on which side of the fence you are on when you read this.:lol:
 
#23 ·
Time for another cavalry story. One of our duties with the Horse Platoon was to assist with the First Cavalry Division Association reunion each year. At that time, (late '70's early 80's) there were still some old horse cavalrymen around. Most had served "between the wars", the 1920's and 30's. One of them was a distinguished looking fellow we only knew as The Colonel. He still wore his silver mane in a combed back 1930's style and had a neatly trimmed Clark Gable moustache. At first sight, there was no mistaking that he was an old school officer and gentleman.

One year, the main event of the reunion was a horseback ride from Fort Sam Houston, in San Antonio, to Fort Hood, in Killeen Texas. Roughly 150 miles that we covered in five and a half days. There were roughly a dozen of us plus a varying number of civilian riders. They were mostly younger veterans or their family members. The Colonel rode the entire distance on a borrowed horse.

Several days in, we came to a small creek. Since we were following the roads, we normally had crossed creeks and rivers on the bridges. This one was narrow and had nice grassy banks on either side. Our lieutenant decided that it would be a grand thing if we were to jump the creek in formation at the gallop. The civilians crossed the bridge, but the Colonel stayed with us.

We formed up in a column of twos and waited for the civilians to get well clear of the area. The lieutenant gave the command and we galloped across the creek two by two just as pretty as you please. Then the lieutenants eyes bugged out and he looked like he had swallowed his tongue. We looked back and the Colonels borrowed horse was pitching a fit in the creek. He was half in and half out of the saddle. One of our guys muttered "Oh ****, we killed the Colonel!".

We watched in horror as the old Colonel fought his horse across the creek, regained his seat and cantered up to the lieutenant. With fire in his eyes he shouted "By God, that's the most fun I've had in years! Good call Lieutenant!"
 
#24 ·
I was buying horses in Eire, at a sales two older ladies had bought a horse from the sale ring. They had a battered old car and an equally battered trailer and the horse refused to load.

Many people tried to assist to no avail. Tempers were frayed.

Up come an old man. He talked to the women. Disappears and returns with some farriers tools and removes all four shoes. He shuts the ramp of the trailer, ties the horse to the back and off the old ladies drove at a steady pace, the old man following in his car. Some miles down the road they stop when he hoots his horn at them. The horse was foot sore and when they dropped the ramp it loaded itself.

Another Irish dealer sold a horse to a woman. The horse suited her well bar one thing and that was that when unloading it out the trailer it came back at 90 mph. She tried all sorts of things to no avail.
The horse went back to the dealer to see if he could stop it.

He did.
He loaded the horse and drove the trailer to a pond which had deep water and banks. He untied the horse and topped the ramp. Horse came back at his normal fast speed and disappeared under the water.
He was loaded again and driven away to be returned to the pond. A second ducking and he was cured of the dangerous habit.

The woman took him back and reported that he now took some pressure to walk out backwards, which was better than charging out!
 
#30 ·
About 20 yrs ago a 96 yr old horseman (worked them for a living) told me how they treated a horse that was foundering. Paint iodine on the coronary band then slather lard on it. He swore it worked and the horse was sound within days and back at work. Sounded like a miracle fix until I leaned how iodine burns a horse and the lard doesn't neutralize that burning as well as they tho't it did. But, back then it was often a do or die situation because no one could keep a horse very long that wasn't earning it's keep.
 
#31 ·
Incitatus - you are so right! Now it is a case of "I fell, your fault, I'll sue."

Long gone are the days when if a child fell in the street and grazed a knee, out came a handkerchief and a bit of spit to wipe it off, are long gone. It is straight to ER.

When I was it Foxhunting with a renowned Midlands hunt, something I could never normally afford, I took a pearler at the start of what looked like a great hunt. I hurt my shoulder. I was pretty annoyed with myself. I had my horse, a youngster, and mother rider had stopped with me. We got back to a road and saw that hounds were screaming, the fox had circled around and was coming back towards us.
A car follower had a tail bandage in his car so we made a sling, I remounted with held and away we went.
Two hours later we finished and only then did I admit I had busted my collar bone.

It wasn't thought to be anything special, just a sensible thing to do when hounds were hunting so well.
I do admit that several swigs from a variety of flasks, numbed the pain.
 
#32 ·
When I was twelve, my and my sister's horse were stolen. We never found out who, or even how... they were just gone. And Dad said no to new horses because he'd just accepted a job and we were moving from CA to AZ. Shortly after moving to our new home in AZ, I discovered there was an old farmer who would let kids ride his horses on Sat and Sun...ALL DAY! Anywhere we wanted to go. The only rules were you had to have them back at the ranch by sundown.

Sounded like my kind of place, so next Saturday I wake up at 5 a.m., ride my bike the 5 miles to his place meeting up with a few other horse-nuts along the way. There were maybe 8 of us. We get there at 5:55 and I'm looking around because there aren't any horses! My friend just says, "Wait."

At 6 on the dot, an old man in an old truck pulls up where we're waiting, and all the kids start piling in to the back of the truck. I follow. He drives us maybe 10 miles further out into farmland and pulls up next to a 5 acre pasture with a dozen head of horses. The kids all tumble out of the truck, each with a six foot length of cotton lead rope (no end fasteners) and head into the field. I grab a rope and follow.

My friend hollers, "Catch the one you like!" and darts off after a big roan paint mare. Other kids obviously have favorites and are zoning it. I see a smaller little black fella, so I go after him, sling my rope over his neck and start to walk back to the gate where the old man is waiting. Then I notice, half the kids are already mounted - they've fashioned war bridles from the rope. Not wanting to look bad, I do the same (guessing how it's done) and indian-swing up. My little guy must know the routine 'cuz he follows the other horses to the gate.

Two kids fail to catch/mount in whatever time the old man had determined was enough. He tells them to get back in the truck. As the truck pulls off, the other kids on horses follow, so I do, too. We go perhaps a mile to a field with 30 or so head of cattle. Old man parts the truck athwart the road, opens the gate and we all ride in.

Again, I'm not sure what's expected because no one mentioned this part, but I continue to follow my friend on the roan and we work our way to the far end of the field. One of the kids whoops and the others fall in as we push the cattle out of that field and into the street. Once the last was out, the old man closed the gate, worked his way along the shoulders of the road until he was in front and let us to a different field, where he again blocked the road and turned the cattle in.
"See you back at the ranch at sundown!" he yells, getting in his truck with the two horseless kids and off he goes.
My friend and I start riding down the road, and she says, "That old man must like you." I asked her why, and she said, "That little black stud you're on has never been ridden before."
Of course, up until that point, we had been following his mama - who someone else was riding. Once my friend and I started off on their own, I discovered he was not necessarily fully - okay...maybe just possible marginally - broke. He dumped me in the dirt a few times and led the two of us on a merry chase once when he got loose! After that, I learned to put a knot in the war bridle.
We were back at his ranch before sunset, and turned the horses into the corral as he watched and counted and looked over every horse. One was pretty sweated up and he made that boy walk him around the farm-house (about a 2 acre lap) until he was dry, then he had to brush the sweat marks off him if he ever wanted to come back.
He looked the rest of us over and noticed I was a bit bruised and scraped from my several falls. He points at me and tells me to go catch that black horse again. I do, and lead him over. "Git on!" I was tired and sore, but I somehow made it (I was way too short back then to jump mount), and turned to face the old guy only to find he's behind us and he slaps the horse's butt. Horse begins another bareback rodeo show, and after a few good jumps, off I come. Hard.
I don't let go of the rope though. Colt drags me a few feet and stops, because by now he knows the drill, I drag myself up, and try to find the wind to mount again... and the old man kicks me hard in the butt.
"Maybe next time you'll be smart enough to pick a broke horse or not fall off."

I was out there every Saturday and Sunday I could be, and I rode that colt as often as I could, although by the 2nd time I caught him he'd been gelded. I got bucked off by more than one of the horses, and I got my butt kicked by the old man more times than I can count, but by the end of that first summer I had learned so much from him. He didn't say much, but if you weren't tough, and if you didn't treat his animals right, he'd send you off and not let you come back.
 
#33 ·
What a great story, Change. And what a shame that it just couldn't happen nowadays.The parents wwould sue that old chap at the drop of a hat. I think we've lost out on so much with our modern-day attitude of over-protection and liability.

I learnt to ride the conventional way, (riding lessons), but my mother tells stories of how she learnt on a local farmer's hunter (this was just after the war). He used his horses to do the rounds of his land and check on the livestock, and he let my mother accompany him as long as she could stay on. No going around in safe circles in an arena - he had her cantering acriss open fields on a 16.2 hunter in next to no time. She probably wasn't a stylish rider, but she was on a horse, which was what mattered.
 
#35 ·
I am quite young and have only one 'old timey' horse story from my grandmother- when she was about six she'd run under the legs of the horses and see how fast she could go. I inherited my good sense from her. :shock:

And while I'm not old I'll share my instructor's methods: she has this pony that looks sweet as all get out with a heart shaped star and everything but with a buck akin to a breaching whale- a cannonade of those usually (now retired with cushings :-( ) and if you wanted to ride you rode Footie. And if you wanted to keep riding after riding footie for awhile why then the doors were open to all sorts of opportunities but first you had to do your time with the adorable fiend. That is the only horse that injured me bad enough to go to the hospital. knock on wood. I guess she liked to weed out the ones who werent committed.
 
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