🔵 By Matthew Boivin. Photo by lauragrafie.
The weather in Arkansas is always changing, but when the humidity rolls in under a blazing sun, the only thing that changes is the amount of water in the air. It’s either so thick, the air clings to my skin, or so moist it’s raining. April showers bring May flowers and all that, but as much as I feel the humidity, the horses feel it even more. Bow and I have been exercising all winter keeping our bodies conditioned for the summer heat, but even his attitude changes in the heat.
The day wasn’t even hot yet, and we were out looking for a calf born with contracted tendons. We spotted him the day before while moving the herd off the hay fields to let the grass grow high enough to harvest. The poor little thing was walking on the end of his front legs with his hoof tucked under. Think of bending your wrist down as far as it would go then doing a handstand on the nab of your forearm. I would consider that pretty painful, so I was going to catch the calf, put splints on him and just bottle feed him. I would rather care for the calf for months than let the coyotes get him. When we found him, though, he was walking normally, so it wasn’t a severe case of contracted tendons.
The problem we did find, though, was two yearlings and a replacement heifer that needed to be in different pastures. the replacement heifer might have problem calving, and the yearlings needed to be weighed for sale, so it was important to put them where we could get to them easily. They had two different destinations, and we had the trailer with us. It’s a lot easier to load them than drive them by themselves, so the ropes came out, and we went to work.
Bow was on his A-game, tracking the little yearling while I attempted to catch her. Wherever she went, Bow kept his nose on her hip following her so I could make my throw. After three misses, I finally heeled her, and she fell, giving us time to put ropes on her neck. The neck ropes on each side of the cow hold her in a tight „T“ so she can’t move while we get the trailer into place. Loading her went fairly routine, but the replacement heifer was a different story altogether.
Remember Rodeo – the man who always talked about wanting to ride a bull or bronc, but ran from the first cow that put up a fight? He was with us and had is rope out determined to catch a cow. I didn’t count him a factor because he wouldn’t put his horse in position behind the cow. Can’t catch a cow if you don’t get close enough to throw the rope! I need practice roping and miss a lot, but I catch my targets – eventually. Sometimes the cow helps, too, and this time the cow helped Rodeo.
The cow was headed toward a fence into a large group of cows. She was trying to hide in the herd and got blocked by the old cows who knew she was the target. The old cows know if they just stand still, we’ll leave them alone. That gave Rodeo his chance, and he took his throw. He missed the whole cow, but she turned and stepped in the loop with her back foot, pulling the rope tight with her toe. Whatever works, right? I yelled, „You got her. Dally! Dally! Dally!“
I suppose Rodeo was more in shock that he actually caught her or maybe he thought all the working out he does would help. No matter the reason he held the the end of his rope in both hands. There’s a good reason my saddle has a wide leather back girth strap, a chest strap, and rubber wrapped around the horn. As soon as that heifer hit the end of the rope, Rodeo found out the reason for himself.
That 900 pound heifer snatched him right out of the saddle! Poor guy flew forward about six feet to land flat on his stomach with a loud, „Ugh!“
Moody’s a good sized 15 hand horse, and he looked like Superman with both arms forward lying on the ground unsure of what just happened. He had a dazed look on his face when I checked on him before taking off after the heifer.
I held Bow back, not wanting him to get tangled in the rope trailing behind the heifer. I was half oping she would stop so I could grab the rope, but before I could get it, she stepped in a hole dragging it off. Bow was on her then, and I caught her by the head, letting her run into the middle of the pasture before I dallied. There’s no use roping her if we can’t get the trailer to her. When she was in a good spot, I tightened the loop and dallied off, tripping her by the front leg as well. I guess Rodeo didn’t want any more to do with this whole roping business. He held way back this time and had his rope on his saddle. Everybody wants to be a cowboy until it’s time to do real cowboy work. He went after the track and trailer then moved the opes to load the heifer. She started getting up on them when they weren’t hustling to get the ropes tight, but lucky for us, nobody got hurt. Once she was behind the cut gate, we went after the other yearling.
This little red yearling had way too much energy. She gave Bow a run for his money, darting right and left, then making sharp cutbacks trying to shake Bow. He stuck with her, tough, almost spinning me out of the saddle. For a big horse, Bow can move when he’s on a cow! I told my hazer to just run her out some to tire her down. She’d be easier to handle once we got her roped, if she was a little winded.
The next thing I see is our new supervisor galloping in with his rope swinging. All he managed to do was run her into a bar put where she swam to a little island to evade us. That was the end of the day for us. No way would I make Bow swim after her; she would come out eventually. Besides, we still had two animals to get off the trailer.
The next day was one of those good Arkansas mornings so humid it was hard to breathe. We were out to work before 8 am and my t-shirt was already sticking to my chest. Our plan was to go after the red yearling, but somebody left a gate open giving us a little bit of extra work right off the bat. I saddled Bow and got ready to handle some cows, but he was feeling the heat, too. I settled into the saddle and shifted the reins forward with the normal „Walk on“. He took three good steps and let me know he felt about going to work first thing after a long day. Yesterday. The boy kicked out, and it was an early morning rodeo! He bucked me up the driveway, down the fence line, and back to the barn gate. I cleared eight seconds three times before he finally calmed down. Then he turned his head to look back at me as if to say, „Damn, you’re still up there.“
My adrenaline was pumping so I asked angrily, „Are you through? Did ya get it outta ya?“ He licked his lips then turned his head the other way to look at the cows walking down the road. „Let’s get these cows, Ta-rot.“ We took off after the cows, and we had an uneventful rest of the day. He was just telling me he was sore from the day before and didn’t want to chase any more cows in the heat, I guess. The real heat won’t be here until August; this is just a little taste.
I thought Bow took the bucking cake, but his little sister won that trophy. They’re the same age and share the same sire, but she’s not as tall as he is and 300 pounds lighter. She’s definitely is sister, though, with the same Sorrel coat, long mane, and a forelock that falls below her eyes. She was brought back over here to replace Whiskey. He was transferred back to the horse breeding unit for regular veterinary care. His recovery was slow, and he would have bad days where he was obviously in pain. They have equipment we don’t, and most importantly, the time to devote to caring for him.
It took a little over a week before I had any free time to work with Bow’s sister, who still hasn’t earned a name beyond She-Devil. She let me catch and saddle her with no real problem. She was very skittish and head shy, but I chalked it up to rough handling vowing to myself to win her over gently. A time will come when she and I have to trust each other and work as a team. We won’t be able to reach that level of partnership if I’m heavy handed with her. Gentle. Firm. Consistent. Respect. Love. Trust. They may be just words on paper, but these words are the guiding principles of all my relationships.
She wouldn’t let me lead her from the front. Maybe I was in her blind spot or maybe someone held her once whipping her from the front. No matter the reason, I wasn’t going to get in a losing game of Tug-of-War. Instead of letting her stall out on me, I walked to her side to let her see me. She walked to the round pen after that just like we were old friends. I left her in there while I gathered an old saddle, pud, and bridle. I needed to know how she was going to act under saddle with a bit in her mouth.
I won’t know how to train her until I know her problems and her personality. There is no one-size-fits-all horse training program. Every horse is an individual as unique as we are. I put all the equipment in the center of the round pen before I asked for anything. I left her alone with the saddle and watched from where she couldn’t see me. She didn’t react so I saddled her for a test run. She was wearing an old saddle in expectation of what I knew would be a pretty big explosion. It wasn’t much more than the tree and skirts with a layer of dust over it from hanging in the barn. She was watching me with a wary eye, unsure of what I was going to do. I kissed at her for a few test laps and when I pushed her into a trot, she threw the tantrum I was expecting. It wasn’t bad, though, and I thought to myself, „I can ride her through that. Bow’s put me through worse.“
Boy, oh boy, was I mistaken!
I took the old saddle off and put my saddle on her then, determined to ride her come what may. I had the foresight to take off the chest strap and back girth but left my saddle bags and raincoat tied behind the cantle. This is my every day saddle, and she will be my every day horse. Best to know her reactions now. When I asked for a trot, she proved she was Bow’s sister, kicking out like a rodeo bronc and crow-hopping almost three feet off the ground. She hit with such force, she shattered a bottle of medicine in my saddle bags. I calmed her down, took off the extra weight and cleaned the medicine off my saddle still determined to get on her. I eased into the saddle and settled with no problem. I asked her to walk with no problem. I asked her for a tight circle to the left with no problem. I asked for a second, tighter rotation, and we have a problem. She kicked out, and I came off her back hitting the ground and rolling to my feet.
I spun on my heel and walked back to her. Her bridle was dislodged, pressuring her ear. When I reached to adjust it, she spun to kick me. I stayed close to her, though, so she only managed to bump me and barely catch me in the calf. I got her settled again and climbed back on. We took a few short rides of just a few steps then dismounting to give her heavy praise. She needs to know rides can be a good thing. I was told the horse program „Got all the buck out of her“, by trying weighted tires across her back and letting her buck it out. Probably why she blew up when my saddlebag hit her. The old concept of breaking a horse doesn’t sit well with me. I prefer thinking of it as making a horse.
Horses and heat. Sounds like a perfect summer for a prison cowboy.