Started thinking about all the incredible horses we have been privileged and honoured to have with us here at Hideout Ranch. Then, I started thinking about those I'd ridden and I quickly realised it would take less time to list those I had not swung a leg across. Discipline was not really Craig's strong suit, but when he did raise his voice to cut through equine chaos, they knew they were in trouble. With us, he was the Good Cop, and I was the Bad Cop. I was the one who made the horses behave with politeness and good nature. Our guests would be so charmed by Washoe's cheekiness or Cimmy's good nature or Mickey Free's youthfulness they would indulge every snatch for a bit of grass and "unintentional" trot through washes while on trail.While minor, these small infractions would compound, earning the culprit a "Mommy Day"...
One of my very favourite "Mommy Days" involved Ike. Now, Ike was very nearly the perfect horse, and he quite likely worked harder and was a part of more guest rides than anyone except perhaps Tell and Cholo. On a particular day, we had planned to take our two guests on a short ride along the base of the Chiricahua. The plan was to put the wife of a frequent guest on Ike because well, he was Ike and she needed a staid and steady mount. Craig went out in the Brat Pack to catch Ike, but gave up after half an hour. He threw the halter to me, snarling, "You catch him!"
Ike... |
So, off I went. Mind, at this time, the Brat Pack (those vaunted, valued geldings who were the shine in Craig's eyes) had 35 acres to themselves, and Ike managed to cover all those 35 acres countless times running from me. I even caught Bascom and locked him in a pen. But Ike was having none of it.
After five minutes - ten minutes max, catching a horse becomes principle. And catching Ike was beyond principle at this point. Finally, my grit defeated his cheekiness, and he was haltered. As I walked him toward the Livery, I saw Craig halter and start to walk Kiowa into the saddling area.
"Nope. Put her away and get Sammy. It's an Ike and Mommy Day."
Craig chuckled and shook his head in amusement, no doubt anticipating the ride ahead.
Ike and I strolling along Owl Butte... |
Saddled, loaded, and trailered across to the trail, my heart swelled to see Sambora out with guests (as she truly was the perfect horse). Tell and Mickey Free were also along, but my focus was on our Big Red Horse.
As soon as I settled in the saddle, Ike realised he was in for it. He was just too good a boy to do anything really naughty like crowhop or buck, and he knew he dare not rear with me. (That would have been VERY naughty indeed!) So, as we walked along, I could feel him gather himself beneath me as if he were going to bolt, and I would sit deep and clamp my leg to his sides. Like iron bands. I could feel Ike get all offended, indignant I would dare to sit on him with such ferocity, but I was in no mood to brook any impertinence.
I laughed a good bit, but allowed him no leeway whatsoever as we walked placidly along.
When we got back to the ranch, we untacked the horses and turned them out. As I reached up to untie the halter and release him back into his wild, Ike cast a baleful, gimlet eye my direction before moving off toward freedom. However...
He could glare so disdainfully you could feel it... |
The next morning, Ike stood stock still when I walked out with a halter...
He was a good boy for me - but then I'm not Mom! Love this story, Tam - thank you!
ReplyDeleteHe is truly an incredible boy, and he worked so hard for us. So glad you got to enjoy his company out on trail...
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