Some I forgot to ride.

First horse was Applejack. I fell off when he bucked after I hit him with a stick. I was 5 years old and ended up with a split ear lobe. That sort of was painful. We were in sheep camp, several miles south of Bend. The ride to town was painful because I felt every bump and I had lived in relative state of no pain. At the doctor’s office I made a life changing mistake. I kicked the doctor. The consequences of that kick are remembered to this day. Yes I treat doctors with respect.

Next was the sweet little donkey. I was still about 5 years old and the donkey was so sweet. I managed to put a bridle on him. I don’t recall where I got the bridle. I asked for a saddle and the request was denied. Now you may wonder what can go wrong. Sweet donkey and a bareback ride. I climbed on and the danged thing just stood there. Looking back on the situation I am certain the donkey was giving me a last moment to reconsider. I kicked the donkey and he began walking. Great a ride at last. Except he would not turn right or left. Then he began trotting. I decided I wanted a walk. I pulled on the reins to slow down. Except the donkey must have thought I meant faster. He began a gallop. Well that wasn’t as hard to ride as the trot. I kept pulling back and maybe said stop in horse language. The donkey must have understood horse language. He dropped to his knee and stopped. I was suddenly air born, but I still had the reins. Except the reins got tight and I did a flip and landed on my back. No I was not hurt, but I was out of breath. The donkey’s head was directly over mine. He looked me in the eye, with I told you so, and walked off. Was sort of a while before I tried that again.

Then there was Brownie, the horse Jack gave me. I saddled her and climbed on. She sort of accepted me and we learned to ride together. She had never been ridden before. She was a great horse and you could work cattle all day on her. If a calf cut back you had best be paying attention because she would turn fast enough and low enough to the ground you would get dirt in the tops of your boots. Did I mention she was a big horse. half Percheron and half Quarter Horse. Her only fault was her feet. They were very hard. Except for trimming I don’t recall ever putting shoes on her.

Then came Tag. He didn’t like to start the riding thing. He bucked nonstop without moving. He was the first horse I actually rode that was bucking. I was up there and he was a reluctant participant. Dad opened the gate and off we went. He could see an escape route and I could see miles of open range land. He began bucking just outside the corral. Now to stop a horse from bucking I was told to pull their head around and onto your knee. With a mighty tug I pulled the left rein. It broke. All was not lost. I pulled the right rein. Yup, it broke. I looked to the ground which was miles away. I decided it was to dangerous to get off. Tag bucked until my neck and shoulders hurt. Then he hesitated and I sprang to the ground. I don’t know who educated who. That was the last time he bucked. I could work ornery bulls with him or cows and calves. My granddad liked to ride him. Tag was a very big, muscular horse and he was fast. He and Granddad got along well. Tag would cut after a calf and then correct himself and catch granddad. Tag’s mother was a sort of race horse mare that we never rode. She had moon blindness so she could not be ridden at night because she could not see a thing. In the daytime she became excited she would run backward until she fell over. Tag must have inherited that trait because in his older life you had to be careful. If a spot on his shoulder became sweaty you knew he was about to loose it and go backward. One time dad loaned Tag and Lip, another horse we broke, to the neighbors. We never got on a horse after it was saddled before we lead it a bit. Well those cowpoke saddled and jumped on. Both horse bogged their heads and threw their riders to the ground. The cowboys lead the horses a bit ad then worked the rest of the day without any more mishaps.

Next was a horse that I called Red or Blaze. This was Red # 1 because until Becky set me straight I always named horses by color. Red was a good education for me. He always bucked sometime during the day when you rode him. He would start with the standard: bog his head and buck about three jumps ahead. Then he would come up high in the front and sunfish out, jamming himself sideways to the ground like he was going to fall onto his side, one side and then the other. I fell off him when we came out of a plowed field onto solid dirt. He bogged his head and I braced, oops with the new saddle. I rolled down his neck and landed sitting in the dirt with his head in my back. He trotted home and I walked. Last time I rode him I was 3-4 miles from the house, and he hadn’t bucked. Then he did and I lost my hat. I rode back and got off. I picked up my hat. As I was turning to get back on he whirled and kicked me, dislocating my knee. I flopped around in the brush and decided I had best get something done. I was in tall enough brush I could not be seen resting on the ground. I used my other foot and got my knee back into working positions. Red would not let me catch him. He stayed about 10 feet in front of me until we were about a mile from the house. Then he quit me. I walked home. The house was full of visitors. I went to the bedroom and got a rifle and headed out the door. Evidently Dad saw me and asked where I was headed. I told him I was going after my saddle. Next question was where was the saddle, answer was it was just over the hill. Next question was why the rifle. I said my saddle was still on Red. I had to leave the rifle and go collect Red with a pickup. Not long after the foreman of the ZX Ranch stopped by. He was looking at the horses in the corral. Dad sold him Red because he was a beauty. I was asked if I could ride the horse. The answer was yes. About a year later the foreman stopped by and he asked if I had actually ridden the horse. Answer was yes and I had worked cows on him a lot. He laughed and said he loved the horse because none of his genuine cowboys could ever ride him, and here I was a sheepherder and I had ridden the horse. Red later got sold to a bucking string, he was never ridden.

Next was Chicken Charlie. He was a wonderful horse and he was pretty green. Becky and I were a couple miles out and going to move horses. He started tossing his head. I snapped the reins and he continued. Next toss I slammed him with my spurs. He went straight up and when I shifted my weight he swapped ends. I was off balance and landed in the brush, straddling a big rock. I wasn’t hurt and he waited. We went on to move horses and that was the Man From Snowy River ride. He and I had an agreement. I didn’t jam him with spurs and he didn’t buck. I went in to the Navy. When I got back I learned that Chicken Charlie lived at the neighbors. I next heard that he and Red were both in a bucking string in Madras. We watched Red buck first. Classic buck and sun fish, the rider fell off. Then was Chicken Charlie. He came straight up and then swapped ends, and put a spin into the process, and his rider fell off. One was called the Pine Mountain Special and the other the Brother’s Special. I don’t know how long Chicken Charlie bucked. Red bucked and was unridden for several years. Then one day they opened the bucking gate and he simply walked out the gate, never to buck again.

Next horse of significance was again called Red. He was a race horse and he was very fast. He won almost all of his races, with a catch. He would start and then buck the jockey off and continue the race and usually win. Dad bought him. First time Dad rode him they were moving cows. A calf cut back and Red started after the calf. Only he ran the calf’s speed. Dad kicked him and Red stopped and rolled Dad off into the brush. I got called. I was riding in the corral. I could not see a problem. Dad opened the gate. As we cleared the gate I kicked Red with my spurs to make him run. Well he bogged it and bucked and screamed and bit my feet. When that was over he was a cattle horse. He didn’t like kids and would not tolerate them on him. We were hunting on Pine Mountain and we got a deer. We sent Levi (about 7 years old) back to get the horse. Levi came back riding him. Levi said it was too far to walk so he just climbed on. I rode Red for ranch work and for the police department. He was great with people and allowed little kids to pull his tail and crawl under him. He only got upset twice. First time I was working traffic and this guy in a fancy car kept crowding up behind Red. I felt Red shift and there was a loud metallic bang. Red had kicked the fancy car’s bumper. It didn’t hurt Red, but it did knock all the dust off the car. I don’t think there was damage, but the guy was half frightened and didn’t say anything. Second was a punk kid. He walked up to Red and punched him in the nose. Red set back on his heels and then lunged forward. I stopped Red before he tore a hunk off the kid with his teeth. Red was pissed. I told the kid that he best start running because I was just going to let Red have him. The race was on. I just sat still and enjoyed the ride. We went through crowds of people, through tents and under awnings. The kid finally climbed up on a picnic table and stopped, exhausted and crying. I told the kid to leave the park, and he did.

Red and I had a wreck in Redmond. I was letting him run full out on wet irrigated grass. Desert horse and desert rider. We turned too fast. His feet went out from under him and we landed on our right sides. I held him down while I kicked free of the saddle. I let him up and he stood up. He had grass stains from his feet to the middle of his back. I started to stand up, but the world went black. I went back to my knees. The lights came back on and I tried to stand up. Yup the world got black. Back to my knees. I found a rock and sat on it. My ears started ringing and the world went black. I could hear, but not see. Becky came and asked me if I was alright. I told her I was great, only I could not see. Then the ringing stopped and I could see again. Off to the hospital. I chipped a tooth and stretched a knee and broke seven of eight bones in my wrist. The doctor set and casted the wrist and turned me loose. No, Red was not hurt. Another adventure was putting shoes on Red. Becky was helping when that wreck occurred. Dang horse jerked and stomped. A nail went thru my thumb and then my thumb smashed my big toe. Did I mention the nail was through the horses hoof? Becky said all the appropriate swear words for me. I asked why she did that, I was amazed. She said she was just getting the swear words out of the way. To the hospital I went because my foot was killing me. At the hospital no one cared about my hurting toe. They were fixated on my thumb’s nail hole. I was threatened with surgery. They finally gave me a liquid IV of antibiotics and let me go home. Damn people refused to look at my poor toe. I think it was broken. I used Red until he died of old age. He could not hear because I worked crowds too close to live music In the parks in Bend.