What a shot in the arm.
I should have fessed up a year ago.
Have to warn you, I'm not particularly affectionate, known to be a little cold, am actually quite frigid on the outside, pretty warm and lively on the inside.
I'm not much of a hugger, ask the kidlette, who, by a wicked, torment-her-mom twist of fate, was and still is, the huggiest, snuggliest sack of bones you have ever been elbowed by. Karma has a sense of humor is all I can say. I appreciate all the cyber hugs, even if I did get all stiff and constipated looking.
Thank you so much for the boost, forgive me if I get all awkward and shy, I'm much more verbal on the 'puter than I am anywhere else. I appreciate you all.
Got another gift from your supportive comments.
Check out this blog!
http://thewanderlywagons.blogspot.com/
The Wanderly Wagons -
Talk about living the dream, I'm having a blast reading through the adventures of Martine and Anne.
New terrain, unfamiliar tack and lingo, breeds of horses I haven't seen before, lots of dogs and a couple of great friends, what else could anybody want?
*********************************************************************************
Meet Jay
We were watching Clare work the little hinny. She rode without stirrups, knees bent and snug against the swell, and still her crazy long legs hung barely two inches above the ground. When the big-eared, bug eyed, quick footed hinny cut right or left, the side of Clare's boot would drag in the dirt.
"I need to get me a midget," Jay said.
"You need what?" I asked.
Clare snorted and started to laugh, the hinny skittered across the round pen and broke into a quick legged little lope. The sturdy, pony-sized critter, the hybrid of a stud horse and a jenny, settled quickly. So far, she had been a quick study.
"God Jay, PC much?" Clare asked him. "What you need, is a saddle with a cinch that fits a hinny." She jerked her hips back and forth to show how much slack there was in her cinch. The only thing holding the saddle on was a jerry-rigged britching and breastcollar. There was a lot of faith being put into baling twine.
"I don't mean anything by it, I just need to get me a midget," Jay repeated.
"Why in the world would you need a midget?" I was hooked.
"To start colts.I mean, look at Clare sitting on that little thing. She looks ridiculous. "
"You're crazy Jay."
He pushed back his hat and folded his arms across the top rail of the round pen. Jay is not a tall man, but his hard, ropy muscles and prairie bred leanness give the impression of height. He has a pleasant face, lined from a life in the unforgiving Colorado sun, and a ready grin. The owner of the barn where I stable my horses is quick to tease and stoic in his work, a typical cowboy and rancher. Where Jay is unusual is in his ability to survive as a horse and cattleman in today's fast changing world.
"I've been looking for a midget for twenty years," he continued. "I don't mean one of those lumpy ones..."
"Jay!" Clare said as she trotted past, "What is wrong with you?"
"Nothing!" Jay looked wounded. "I just mean I need one built like a regular person, but real small, so he could ride."
"Why don't you go down to Pueblo and hire a jockey?" I asked.
"Too much attitude. Those boys think that just because they can stand on a horse they know something. Think about it, those midgets can't weigh more than fifty, sixty pounds, right?"
My good mare, Madonna, shifted her hind feet and played with the roller in her bit. She had her eyes fastened on the hinny, the not-quite-a-horse fascinated her.
Theoretically, I was sitting on her in the indoor while Clare got in her second ride, to give the hinny the comfort of another four-legged creature. In reality, I was watching over my daughter. She might be twenty-one, and better at starting a colt than me, but I still liked to be around for those first rides.
"You can find kids that ride and weigh the same," I said.
"Sure you can, but they're kids. If I had a midget, why then I could have an adult's mind and hands on my horses, without the weight. I could start my colts as yearlings, and by the time they were three, well, they'd be so broke it would be like riding a five-year-old."
"I think you do fine starting them the way you do."
"The market calls for them being a lot more broke at two than mine are."
We watched Clare transition the hinny to a walk, then a trot, then back to a walk with her seat. When the hinny stopped, Clare sighed and picked up her reins, putting a little pressure on the bit. Within seconds, they were tussling over backing a step. I would have waited a few rides to ask for that step, but I shut up. Her way of doing things seemed to work for her.
"Yours are still sound when they're ten," I said.
"That's my point, Janet, if I had a midget I could have the best of both worlds."
The hinny finally backed one grudging step and Clare released her reins, rubbed the sweat slick neck and went to step down. The saddle slipped and the hinny started to pitch before Clare got her leg clear. She slid back into the saddle and tried to yank it back in place with her weight. It didn't want to go.
The hinny bogged her head and cut loose.
"Clare, why don't you go ahead and step off?" I asked in a low, steady voice. My heart beat was calling for a shout, but I knew there was no help in that.
She didn't answer, she was busy. The britching had come loose and the saddle was up and over the hinny's withers. Two more good bucks and the whole package, saddle, Clare and a lot of bright orange baling twine, came off over her head. The hinny shook free, and spun away from the whole mess. Clare sat in the dust, looking confused, still sitting square in the middle of her saddle.
"Well shit," she said, "we were just about done." She stood up, dusted off her seat and went to catch the wide-eyed hinny. "Jay, I'll get her rode again, but I'm not riding her after today unless you get a rig that fits her."
Jay stared at her for a few seconds, I could see the wheels turning while he tried to figure a way around her argument. He finally shook his head and stomped out of the arena. Dust puffed up around his feet, hiding his boots, leaving a trail hanging in the air when he stepped into the sunlight.
"I'm telling you, I need to get me a midget."
I should have fessed up a year ago.
Have to warn you, I'm not particularly affectionate, known to be a little cold, am actually quite frigid on the outside, pretty warm and lively on the inside.
I'm not much of a hugger, ask the kidlette, who, by a wicked, torment-her-mom twist of fate, was and still is, the huggiest, snuggliest sack of bones you have ever been elbowed by. Karma has a sense of humor is all I can say. I appreciate all the cyber hugs, even if I did get all stiff and constipated looking.
Thank you so much for the boost, forgive me if I get all awkward and shy, I'm much more verbal on the 'puter than I am anywhere else. I appreciate you all.
Got another gift from your supportive comments.
Check out this blog!
http://thewanderlywagons.blogspot.com/
The Wanderly Wagons -
Talk about living the dream, I'm having a blast reading through the adventures of Martine and Anne.
New terrain, unfamiliar tack and lingo, breeds of horses I haven't seen before, lots of dogs and a couple of great friends, what else could anybody want?
*********************************************************************************
Meet Jay
We were watching Clare work the little hinny. She rode without stirrups, knees bent and snug against the swell, and still her crazy long legs hung barely two inches above the ground. When the big-eared, bug eyed, quick footed hinny cut right or left, the side of Clare's boot would drag in the dirt.
"I need to get me a midget," Jay said.
"You need what?" I asked.
Clare snorted and started to laugh, the hinny skittered across the round pen and broke into a quick legged little lope. The sturdy, pony-sized critter, the hybrid of a stud horse and a jenny, settled quickly. So far, she had been a quick study.
"God Jay, PC much?" Clare asked him. "What you need, is a saddle with a cinch that fits a hinny." She jerked her hips back and forth to show how much slack there was in her cinch. The only thing holding the saddle on was a jerry-rigged britching and breastcollar. There was a lot of faith being put into baling twine.
"I don't mean anything by it, I just need to get me a midget," Jay repeated.
"Why in the world would you need a midget?" I was hooked.
"To start colts.I mean, look at Clare sitting on that little thing. She looks ridiculous. "
"You're crazy Jay."
He pushed back his hat and folded his arms across the top rail of the round pen. Jay is not a tall man, but his hard, ropy muscles and prairie bred leanness give the impression of height. He has a pleasant face, lined from a life in the unforgiving Colorado sun, and a ready grin. The owner of the barn where I stable my horses is quick to tease and stoic in his work, a typical cowboy and rancher. Where Jay is unusual is in his ability to survive as a horse and cattleman in today's fast changing world.
"I've been looking for a midget for twenty years," he continued. "I don't mean one of those lumpy ones..."
"Jay!" Clare said as she trotted past, "What is wrong with you?"
"Nothing!" Jay looked wounded. "I just mean I need one built like a regular person, but real small, so he could ride."
"Why don't you go down to Pueblo and hire a jockey?" I asked.
"Too much attitude. Those boys think that just because they can stand on a horse they know something. Think about it, those midgets can't weigh more than fifty, sixty pounds, right?"
My good mare, Madonna, shifted her hind feet and played with the roller in her bit. She had her eyes fastened on the hinny, the not-quite-a-horse fascinated her.
Theoretically, I was sitting on her in the indoor while Clare got in her second ride, to give the hinny the comfort of another four-legged creature. In reality, I was watching over my daughter. She might be twenty-one, and better at starting a colt than me, but I still liked to be around for those first rides.
"You can find kids that ride and weigh the same," I said.
"Sure you can, but they're kids. If I had a midget, why then I could have an adult's mind and hands on my horses, without the weight. I could start my colts as yearlings, and by the time they were three, well, they'd be so broke it would be like riding a five-year-old."
"I think you do fine starting them the way you do."
"The market calls for them being a lot more broke at two than mine are."
We watched Clare transition the hinny to a walk, then a trot, then back to a walk with her seat. When the hinny stopped, Clare sighed and picked up her reins, putting a little pressure on the bit. Within seconds, they were tussling over backing a step. I would have waited a few rides to ask for that step, but I shut up. Her way of doing things seemed to work for her.
"Yours are still sound when they're ten," I said.
"That's my point, Janet, if I had a midget I could have the best of both worlds."
The hinny finally backed one grudging step and Clare released her reins, rubbed the sweat slick neck and went to step down. The saddle slipped and the hinny started to pitch before Clare got her leg clear. She slid back into the saddle and tried to yank it back in place with her weight. It didn't want to go.
The hinny bogged her head and cut loose.
"Clare, why don't you go ahead and step off?" I asked in a low, steady voice. My heart beat was calling for a shout, but I knew there was no help in that.
She didn't answer, she was busy. The britching had come loose and the saddle was up and over the hinny's withers. Two more good bucks and the whole package, saddle, Clare and a lot of bright orange baling twine, came off over her head. The hinny shook free, and spun away from the whole mess. Clare sat in the dust, looking confused, still sitting square in the middle of her saddle.
"Well shit," she said, "we were just about done." She stood up, dusted off her seat and went to catch the wide-eyed hinny. "Jay, I'll get her rode again, but I'm not riding her after today unless you get a rig that fits her."
Jay stared at her for a few seconds, I could see the wheels turning while he tried to figure a way around her argument. He finally shook his head and stomped out of the arena. Dust puffed up around his feet, hiding his boots, leaving a trail hanging in the air when he stepped into the sunlight.
"I'm telling you, I need to get me a midget."
