More Names...

During those first years of the ranch, seemingly we had horses coming in every time I turned around. The order in which they arrived escapes me completely, but everyone arrived with a story...

A friend stopped by one day with two horses in his trailer, asking Craig if he was "still looking for horses".

"I'm always looking for horses!"

Out of the trailer came a big chestnut gelding and a smaller buckskin paint. Everett agreed to leave them for a few days so Craig could "try" them. Craig always insisted on a trial period for every horse who earned a place in our growing herd, but only a very few were sent on along. As I recall, the paint was super skittish and just didn't impress Craig in the least. But that big red horse...

Though cute, the paint just wasn't going to work out. However, that big red horse on the right...

Craig said he saddled up the chestnut and rode out. Said he thought him "not bad". Took him out again, and notched his assessment up to "pretty good". Took him out again, and it skyrocketed to "Wow, this horse!" We sent the paint on, but welcomed "Ike" to the ranch. He's named for Ike Clanton, one of the"Cowboys" who went up against Wyatt Earp, his brothers, and Doc Holliday at the OK Corral. Now, our Ike was nothing like the cowardly Clanton who bolted when the bullets started flying in Tombstone that fateful day. Our Ike was strong, solid, smart, patient, businesslike, bold, and  confident. This "big red horse", as we came to call him, needed a one syllable name which brought the old West vividly to mind. "Ike" just seemed to settle on him.

Ike truly was a cowboy's cow horse...

Another friend, one who used to cowboy over to the Grey Ranch in New Mexico, told Craig he had a little paint horse he wanted to bring over but he was recovering from a mishap with a panel. However, he did have this grey he would like to bring us to try. He showed up, backed this big grey out of the trailer, swung up bareback, and strolled down to the pens. I immediately named him "Tell" for Tell Sackett, a main character in a Louis L'Amour series about a family whose founder immigrated from Wales. There were a few branches of the Sackett family tree - the most prominent being in Tennessee. Those three brothers - Tell, Orrin, and Tyrel, were brought to vibrant and wholly-realistic life onscreen by Sam Elliott, Tom Selleck, and Jeff Osterhage in The Sacketts.

Tell, with Craig up above Portal going into the wilderness...

Ike was our Land Rover. Solid. Go anywhere. Safe. A roundup machine. Tell, we quickly realised, was our Maserati. He was quick, wanted to get there and get it done. He was safe, absolutely, but he didn't waste any time. Someone who claimed to be a "cowboy" and "know" horses was heard to say "Tell needs some trainin' up". We who spent every day with him, who fought over riding him, who did know horses just rolled our eyes. Tell had forgotten more than that pretender would ever know, as they say. Once people found their leg and seat with Ike, they typically "graduated" to Tell. If Craig would ever get off of him...

When Tell arrived, Craig's first words were, and I quote, "Annette is going to love him..."

 A couple years after Tell arrived and impressed us no end, we brought a younger grey into the herd. Themes are important to me, so of course we named him "Orrin", the middle brother so perfectly portrayed by Tom Selleck. Then, as you might imagine, we were on the search for Tyrel...

Orrin, in his fabulousness...

Classic Orrin and Craig while cowing at White Tail. Classic...

Finally, we decided (rather, as the Official Namer, I decided...) that all grey horses ever brought on to Hideout Ranch would be named for members of the Sackett family. When someone from "back east" decided to spend half his year out here learning to wrangle and ranch in his retirement, he also decided to buy a horse to ride those six months. He found a grey gelding in his early teens, which Craig and I each rode during his "interview", and I issued the edict if the horse passed and joined us on the ranch, he would have to follow the Grey Horse Naming Convention. Well, "Logan" is a cousin of our three favourite Sackett brothers, so we had our newest Sackett. Logan was darling and such a joy to ride. He could be quick and challenging, so it was mostly Josh and I who swapped off riding him. We did have guests who, as quite capable riders, loved taking Logan out on trail. Sadly, Logan was one of the boys we lost to lightning in early September 2016. I miss him. Horribly...

Logan, waiting patiently to lead up in Portal...

Logan with Little Bit. Surely wish I'd had a babysitter like him when I was that age...

Tracy and Logan on their date to Granite Gap...

Logan with me at Fort Bowie...

A neighbour up above Rodeo was moving to Hawaii and decided to rehome his horses, a mare and a gelding who, coincidentally enough, was grey. Welcome to the ranch, Tyrel! We had our third Sackett brother - and a cousin! Tyrel was a delightful older horse, and he took to trail readily. You did have to ride him with some determination as Tyrel was one who sometimes decided forward wasn't exactly where he wanted to go. Little blossom would turn back toward the trailer, but was always persuaded to continue. Time, persistence, and loads of love convinced Tyrel being out with guests on trail really was more fun than standing around at home, and he became one of our best beloved guest horses.

Tyrel and Jeff at Price Canyon...

Someone had a good roll...

Tyrel's face really was sweet...

The mare who came with Tyrel was a lovely clear bay Quarterhorse who was christened Belle Starr. The historic, legendary Belle Starr has a fascinating story, including the historic, legendary Blue Duck (yes, there was one...). Belle took an immediate liking to Cheryl, our beloved cook/wrangler, and they enjoyed several trails here together. Belle Starr is with Cheryl in Florida as a girl and her pony simply must be together...

Belle Starr, with her person close at hand...

On the way to her new home with her own person...

Riding vs Riding...

"The Higwayman", Sport cross country at Foxcroft. The feeling of this jump remains vibrant and vital...

The BigMan, schooling stadium after we were eliminated on cross country...

Sport, after a spectacularly horrid dressage performance...

Riches, warming up for Dressage at Foxcroft...

Orrin, leading the way at Granite Gap...

Talked with my friend, Rachel, this morning, and she told me about a very successful and satisfying ride she'd had on her newest Icelandic horse, Jór. He pushes her, and she meets his challenge. As our conversation progressed, I admitted to preferring those challenging horses as they make me a better rider. Rachel went on to say challenging the horse makes them better able to be ridden. Got me to thinking...

Growing up, I took each and every opportunity which presented itself to climb on a horse. I fell off perhaps as many times, but get up there I did. In college, I took Western Horsemanship as a HYPER option. Each week, I clambered on a bus with a small group of people and puttered out to a local stable to spend an hour in the saddle. The instructor was a quadriplegic man, relegated to a wheelchair for life by one of the very animals he capably instructed us on the basics.

There must have been a sign around my neck or an imprint on my forehead, because he began putting me on "those" horses - the ones who required a tie-down and a crop. But ride them I did. Later I found out I had what they called "stick".

I lived in Maryland for several months until I finally reached my beloved Virginia. One weekend, the group of us from the office decided to go riding at a stable somewhere in the DelMarVa region. My horse was rather placid and well-behaved, but one of the others was put on a gelding who just wasn't having it. I asked her if she wanted to trade with me and I would work him through his nonsense. She refused, saying "No! You'll make him behave!"

I continued to ride whatever anyone would let me. Finally, Sambora came into my life. Now, Sambora was, in my humble and unsolicited opinion, perfect. In reality, she was far from "made", but she and I learned together. When I bought Sport, he gave me as good as he had, and II was never more grateful for that "stick". My BigMan pushed me (and my buttons), but I pushed him, too. He and I learned even more together than Sammy and I, and he was the teacher who prepared me for Riches, Orrin, Mariah, Red Cloud, and others. Each horse prepares you for the next, making you better, improving your seat, leg, hands.

Part of my "job" when we were running the guest ranch, was to sort out those horses who brought some undesirable habits with them from their previous life. Orrin, for example, could be a little high-handed as his Orrinness was often difficult to contain. He wasn't maliciously broncy, but he could crack his back and hop around, and his feet sometimes were averse to staying on the ground. Still, he reminded me to sit deep and open, insisted I keep my hands low and quiet, persist in holding my leg to him. Mentally, I had to stay three steps ahead of all his fabulousness. And riding him, I feel alive.

In fact, last weekend I enjoyed my first ride since the months leading up to my shoulder replacement in February 2020. A delightful and talented young friend came down and conducted an impromptu horse clinic at the farm, and Orrin and I participated. It's likely been six months, at least, since I last swung my leg across a horse. Hector, my new PT, "cleared" me to ride as long as "you don't fall off". I assured him that was always my goal, so...

Orrin, in all his fabulousness...

Working on bending and behaving...

Saturday evening's session was a minimum of two hours mounted after learning some groundwork exercises. I have never done ground work, not in the usual sense. I have always been the #getonandgo type. But doing the exercises Sarah suggested really helped Orrin and I return to - then go beyond - our prior relationship. Then, she called us to mount up.

Those of you who know Orrin know he can, and frequently does, exude "Orrinness". There is typically so much Orrinness, he cannot contain it. Well, he's been "off" at least as long as I have, it not longer. Ergo, there was MUCH "Orrinness" with which to be dealt. We went backwards. A lot. Fast. We dropped our head and cracked our back. We did our version of The Wave. According to Will, we even had air and hangtime with all four feet above the arena floor. Oh. And we made mad shies to one side. Mostly the right. We were very Orrin.
But, we were also Fabulous (remember, his theme song is "Busy Being Fabulous" by the Eagles). He gave me some good moments, and we termed the evening a great success.
Orrin stayed at the farm overnight with his old friends Taza, Cholo, and Echo, for convenience's sake. His faithful followers home at the ranch, Kachina and Riches (who does exhibit somewhat more dignity), were less than thrilled the object of their co-dependency was gone.

Sunday's session was a good three hours in the saddle, including some "teamwork". We survived Mary walking behind us to encourage the "forward is the only answer" motto. We barely survived the flower pot with the flittering tag being blown against and caught in the fence where it flittered constantly. And wind! More wind than the night before and that made tarps and things move and and and! Chickens! Calves! Lots of Big Scary Things. But we survived. Again.

We did lots of walk-trot-walk transitions which challenged me to be soft and use my seat. We nailed them. Then, with a deep, fortifying breath, I asked for a left lead canter and there they were. Those moments of pure joy. A small audience requested I repeat the performance, which we did - to greater success. Then, the right lead canter took a little more effort, but we got it and rolled around a "circle" smoothly, effortlessly, as one.

When we approached our audience, I was accused of "glowing". Perhaps I was. I felt honestly good. In my element. I had cautioned Will the night before he would finally be seeing the "real" me. Even I cannot fully explain how it felt as I am not sure there are those words.

From the start box, I have always said I am not an expert nor a medalist, but by Harry! I can ride my horses. What's more, I can teach others how to ride them. I have always risen to the occasion when riding a horse that pushed me - Sport. Riches. Orrin. Logan. Red Cloud. Mariah. Cap. Blue Duck. Chisum. Famous Shoes. So many others. Craig used to assign horses who needed a little reminder a "Mommy Day" - which meant I rode them until they remembered themselves.

And following Rachel's logic, they would always be better because they made me ride...

Riches at the guest ranch where Craig and I met...

Riches, Dressage at Foxcroft

Riches, dressage in Virginia...

Riches, cross country at Foxcroft...

Mariah...

Mariah, being schooled under English tack by our young German friend...

Blue Duck and I on trail in Portal...

Blue Duck, trotting across the Parade Ground at Rucker...