Monday, June 04, 2012

Ridin' Miss P

It rained here Saturday night.  Not a lot, but we don't turn away any drops of rain.  I do know what caused it to rain...

I rode a horse

It's been 10 - 12 years since I've ridden.  Both the horse and I survived the momentous occasion.

Kev got up Saturday morning and asked me if I wanted to go to the ranch with him to pick up rock.  Since I think the ranch is just about one of the prettiest places on earth, I jumped at the chance.  He loaded up the trailer while I got dressed and we hit the road; leaving my sunglasses and my camera at home.

When we got to the ranch, Dad was on horseback, cutting out a sick yearling from the herd.  I could watch him ride and work cattle all day.  He might be pushing 70, but Dad still sits tall in the saddle. He wasn't very happy to have another sick steer, because he's lost several from this shipment.  He likes to keep his death rate less than 3%, and this shipment of cattle is ruining his percentage.  We helped him doctor 2 steers and I fed the other sick ones he had doctored yesterday while Dad and Kev drug out and disposed of a steer who died in the night.

After we helped with the sickies, Dad asked me if I wanted to ride his mare, Puta to the stables.

Did I hear him right?  Did  he just ask me to ride the horse to the stable, and did he really call her Puta?

Puta is a not-very-nice word in Spanish.  I was flabbergasted that my father said that word, and that he named his horse that word.  He informed me that yes, it was her name, and no, he did not name her.   (I decided to call her Miss P.)

I jumped at the chance to ride to the stables.  Fortunately, I was wearing my boots, so I was good to go.

Normally, Dad's work horses are 16 hands tall.  Apparently, over the last few years, he's decided he likes to be closer to the ground, and Miss P is not 16 hands tall which meant I could actually get my foot up in the stirrup without any trouble.  Dad's legs are still a little longer than mine, so I couldn't get my feet completely in the stirrups which mean Miss P would have to stay at a walk.  Dad assured me that she's a good gentle calm horse, so I didn't have to worry about her deciding to run off with me.

I headed towards the stables leaving the men to do whatever they were doing.  But, I forgot exactly how to get there.  Did I have to go clear back to the house? Or could I cut across the pasture and go in the back way?  I looked around and decided to take one trail that looked like it would circle back to the stables and we headed out.

Miss P wasn't really eager to go where I pointed her, but she acquiesced and we headed the junk pile.  Ugg.  I should have listened to the horse.  I apologized to her, and let her have her head and we headed in the right direction.  About this time, Dad and Kevin came back up the road looking for me.  They'd already been at the stables, and not seeing me there on on the road, got worried and headed back hoping I wasn't laying dead somewhere in the grass.  It was nice knowing they had such faith in my riding abilities...

They then made me pose for a photo, which Dad took using his phone.  (And which I hope never gets transferred to any other device or printed.)  The way they acted, you'd think I hadn't been on a horse in 10 years or so... I rode down to the stables, and we turned Miss P out with the other horses.

My day of riding was over.  But, I'm thinkin' that I just might not wait another 10 years to ride!

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