Word Celebrity Blog

MY EXPERIENCES WITH HORSES

Like most boys of my generation, a I had a love affair with horses. Horses were everywhere. Horses and wagons hauled the freight and made deliveries of milk, bread, and ice to our homes.  Many people still traveled by horse and buggy. This was not just in the countryside and small towns, but, in the cities as well. The policemen rode on horses. You would often see individuals traveling on horseback. In the winter time, many traveled by horse and sleigh.

The first time that I rode on a horse was when I was four years old.  I was visiting my uncle John on a farm where he was bringing in hay, After the work was done he placed me up on the horse (on top of the harness) and I rode it back to the barn. My next experience was when a traveling photographer came around with a large pony. I had my picture taken while sitting on the pony. I was wearing a cowboy hat.

The next experience with a horse was when I was 14 and we moved to a farm near Mercer, Pennsylvania. One of the first things that we did was to look for a horse.


My father and I went to a local horse dealer to buy a horse. The horse dealer had about 10 horses for sale. He asked my father who would be doing the plowing and my father told him that I would probably be doing most of it. He said in that case; he had only one horse he would sell to us. It was a very large Belgian gelding named Bob, and was 10 years old. He said that the horse knew more about farming than half of the farmers around there.

The next day he delivered the horse, My father, looked at me and said that from that moment on Bob was my responsibility. He then enumerated what those responsibilities were. I spent several days for Bob and I to get to know each other. I fed and watered him and cleaned out his stall. I would brush and curry him as well as practicing putting on the harness and taking it back off. I was 5' 8" tall, and I had to stand on a box to do it.

We made a stone sled for clearing the rocks from the fields. (This was something we did each fall). Bob and I cleared the fields until winter came.


Since my father worked all day during the week, my lesson on plowing was on Saturday morning. After I had harnessed Bob and took him to the three acre field to be plowed. My father showed me how to hook up the plow. He then plowed a furrow down the length of the field and back again, He told me "Its all yours" and handed me the reigns. He watched me for awhile and then left to fix some machinery. The dealer that sold us was right about the horse. When Bob reached the end of the row he would stop in the right place and wait for me to pull around the plow and the he would align himself up for the next row and waited for me to to tell him to start again. After plowing several more furrows, I didn't use the reigns anymore. I tied them to the plow and only used voice commands.

When we were cultivating the garden or the corn field, It was on a Saturday. It took two of us, I would lead Bob by holding onto his bridle and leading him and my father guided the cultivator. This was so his large feet didn't step on the plants and that he didn't eat the cornstalks.

That fall, we cleared a field for planting buckwheat. We  hooked Bob up to a stump with chains. We then would have him pull until we told him to hold. He then stopped and kept the chain tight while we chopped the roots of the tree. He would have pulled until he hurt himself if we hadn't stopped him. I have never seen such a good farm horse. before or since then.

Bob, just as humans do, had his moments when he didn't want to work. At those times, when I was walking alongside of him carrying the harness, he would gently but firmly lean on me until I was pinned to the side of the stall. He never hurt me. It was just his way of letting me know that he didn't want to work. I could usually persuade him to straighten up, but, a couple of times I has to call for someone to help.

The next year we bought a Belgian mare to help Bob. She was not as tall as him. She too was a good horse and gentle, but, she was a little lazy. She would hang back a little and let Bob pull most of the weight. All in all they made a good team and they were about the same color and were similarly marked.




That winter, my father asked me if I wanted to go to the horse auction, which was on Friday evenings. I didn't know it at the time that my father had already checked to see if the horse dealer would be there as well. As I usually did when I went there with my father, I would check out all of the horses while he was watching the auction. After awhile, my father came up to me and said that if I wanted a riding horse, that he would buy it for me. The only stipulation was that the dealer had to say that she was sound. I immediately picked out a black Mustang mare (similar to the picture above). She was a little skittish when you got near her face. She acted like someone had beat her around the head. After a little persuasion, my father bought her. My father said it was to show his appreciation for my work of taking care of the livestock.

I was the only one in my high school class that had his own horse. We rode everywhere for about three miles in every direction. She loved to run. A neighbor had a beautiful Pinto gelding that he was always bragging about. He challenged me to a race. I always refused until one day I accepted the challenge, but, only if I could pick the spot. I picked a spot in the sparsely wooded area behind his property, We rode the course together so that both of us knew the boundaries. His horse had been trained for barrel races, and so he thought he had the edge. The race course was about a half mile and a quick turnaround and back. We both were running at about the same speed and when we got to the turnaround spot, his Pinto made the turn quicker than my mare and he was several lengths ahead of me. His horse began to slow as he became winded. My mare won the race by 6 lengths. He had forgotten (or didn't Know) that Mustangs were noted for their sure-footing and long distance stamina over rough ground.

He also owned another horse. It was a 21 year old gelding that was completely blind, They kept him in the wooded pasture with the milk cows. When they wanted the cows to come in, they told the horse to get the cows and he would round them up and bring them to the barn.

One day, when I was home alone, after several hours of riding. I rode up to the same neighbor's house. There was no one at home. As I was mounting my horse (I had forgot to tighten the cinch strap after riding so long) a hunter shot his gun in a nearby field and my mare took off running while I was half-way up into the saddle. Because of the loose cinch strap and my weight in the stirrup,  the saddle began to slip towards me. I pushed myself away from the horse and broke my right clavicle bone.

When my mare no longer felt my weight on her, she stopped and looked back at me while I was getting up. I shouted to her to go home and she took off down the road. She was standing at the barn door when my family got home. I walked about a quarter-mile to another neighbor's house and she drove me to the hospital in an old pickup truck. The doctors had to operate on me to fix my clavicle bone.

Several years later, I worked at green-breaking of wild mustangs in Wyoming.


The Mustang (Colonial Spanish Horse) is generally a small horse, although size is increasing with improved nutrition and some selection among breeders. The usual height is around 14 hands, and most vary from 13 to 14.2 hands. Some exceptional horses are up to 15 hands high or slightly more. Weight varies with height, but most are around 700 to 800 pounds. They are smooth muscled with short backs, rounded rumps and low set tails. Coupling is smooth and the overall appearance is that of a well-balanced. The girth is deep, with well-laid back shoulder and fairly pronounced withers. They posses the classic Spanish type head with a straight or concave forehead and a convex nose which is in contrast to the straight forehead and nose of most breeds.

From a front view the cranial portions of the head are wide, but the facial portions are narrow and fine. The muzzle is usually very fine, and from the side the upper lip is usually longer than the lower, although the teeth meet evenly. Nostrils are usually small and crescent shaped when the horses are resting and at ease, but do flare with alertness or exertion. Ears are medium to short and usually notched or curved towards each other. Necks are fairly well crested in mares and geldings and heavily crested in mature stallions.

Mustangs are very hardy and tend to be less prone to injury, particularly in the legs and feet, than other breeds. They have a very different mentality than "domesticated" horses. They tend be less shy and nervous because of their history out in the wilderness. They are not push button horses and will not abide abuse, however they bond well with their owners and once bonded, become very attached to that person. Highly intelligent with an innate sense of self-preservation they are not prone to put themselves into any situation, which may be destructive or dangerous. Compared to "domesticated" breeds, they retain a great many of the instincts that allowed them to survive in the feral state.

(Above information was adapted from  http://www.imh.org/imh/bw/spmust.html and  http://www.conquistador.com/mustang.html)


While green-breaking  wild Mustangs in Wyoming, I was paid $10 a horse. On a good day I could break 5 horses if I didn't get hurt too bad. That was more than I could make in a week back home. I worked there for three months and didn't have any serious injuries, just a lot of aching body parts and swollen fingers and toes.

I did not ride again until I was 52 years old. When I was Living in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, a good friend of mine (for over 30 years) had three geldings. He went riding every day. He invited me to go riding with him and it became a daily experience. One day when we were riding across an open field with high grass, the horse that I was riding took about 4 or 5 very quick steps side-ways. I had never seen a horse do that before. Just then a couple of ring-neck pheasants took off from the direction we were traveling, It seems that the horse saw or sensed the birds in the tall grass and was spooked.

On another day when we were riding down one of the streets (on which all of the gas meters were painted a bright yellow), we passed a house which had the gas meter in the front of the house and close to the street. When the horse that I was riding (the same one) saw the gas meter he got spooked  and attempted to run away.. On another occasion we were riding down to the 7-11 to get a cup of coffee, W e passed a parked car which had a canoe on its roof.  My horse went wild and tried to run away.  By pulling hard on one rein, I kept the horse turning in a circle until he became calm again. The canoe was painted bright yellow.

On our daily rides we took the same route around Harper's Ferry.  The horses were very familiar with the route.  There was a small bridge made of solid timbers about the thickness of railroad ties. you had to cross 6 of these which were butted tight to make the a solid bridge.  We had crossed this every day, but on this day my friend's horse refused to cross . Eventually, my friend got off and had to lead his horse across the bridge and then get back on. As I rode across the bridge, I noticed a snake about three feet long in the water. Ever since that day; every time we came to that bridge my friend had to get off and lead his horse across,

That fall I moved to Ohio and have never been on a horse again.  By being around horses, I  learned a lot of things about myself, as well as experiencing many moments excitement and joy. Horseback riding is something that I will probably always miss.

CLYDE