Bucking Horses
Horse Stories: being bucked off as a kid.
I was sitting at the diner with
my dad and the shop regulars, and one man said that he saw me when I first got
my feisty Arabian mare, thirteen years ago, and witnessed the horse bucking me
off. I had to laugh. This brought back many memories, and we began to tell
stories.
I have to laugh at people who say, "I don't like horses because I got bucked off
once." When I was a kid I would always get thrown. More times than I remember
anyhow. If my parents knew how often they would have sold that animal, but we've
had her for many years now, and she's become a trusted friend, and a well
mannered companion on the trails.
One time with our first horse my dad had suggested that I put on a saddle. I
refused, as I usually did go bareback riding, often bare foot as well, as seen
in a picture of me on my mare that Kate put on my comment space. We were running
toward the barn, and the horse took a sharp unexpected turn into the pasture,
but my body kept going straight. I fell flat on my back and the horse went into
the barn, and into her stall. I had never gotten the wind knocked out of me
before, so I was freaked out when I couldn't breathe. I looked at my mom with a
panic white face, mouth agape, motioning with my hands, "I can't breathe!"
Finally I gasped a much needed breath, and my dad thought, "Don't cry, she's not
going to cry..." Sure enough, I cried just because I was shocked about loosing
my breath. But that's nothing....
Another time with our first horse, who was a bay quarter horse mare, two years
old, green broke. We were going for a family walk. I rode the horse, my dad led
her, and brother and mom walked along with. As we were near the road in a field
some friends drove by, and honked their horn and waved to say hello. The horse
immediately bucked twice, and boop! I'm air born! I landed on all four, got back
on, laughed and we kept going. Later the people called to apologize for spooking
the horse, and asked if I was okay. I was.
Another time I was riding with a friend. Kim came over after school.
We only had one horse at the time, her name was Oakie. She was a chestnut mare,
over twenty, with a white face. Kim got in back and we began to ride down the
path, but Oakie was fussing so badly. She wouldn't walk forward, pranced all
around having quite the fit circling, walking backwards, trotting in place
throwing her head around. I argued with Oakie for a while, but then advised Kim
to dismount. She did. Then I took off just a running full boar across the field,
the horse bucking with her head down the whole way like a bronco. I kept my seat
though. I didn't fall off. By this time I was good at riding bucking horses.
Then I collected my mare, and brought her back to the trail where Kim was
standing patiently. I had her stand still, and I said, "Okay Kim, you can get
back on." Surprisingly she did! That girl has guts! But we continued down the
trail just as nice as can be, and the horse didn't fuss a bit.
Another time I was riding the same horse, alone in mid winter. It was cold, I
was all bundled up. Drifts of snow were about five feet near the fences. We were
trekking through the snow, across the field along the fence line. The horse
somehow freaked and bucked me clear off. I was launched clear into the air,
about three feet above saddle, which translates to an eight foot fall. I landed
on my back right in a drift. It was quite pleasant actually. I felt like
Princess Buttercup in the movie Princess Bride, where she gently descends
through the air, as they all jump out of the second story window. However, when
I got up I saw that my head was about six inches away from the fence post. I
could have gotten impaled, or clocked the back of my head which would have
knocked me right out. Down for the count. Luckily I didn't. But it made me
realize for a brief moment that I shouldn't let a horse buck when I'm on. To
some that is common sense! Not me though.
Another time was with my friend Kate. She and I were saddling up Diamond, a bay
quarter horse mare, real stocky and obedient, and I Lucy, my high strung
Arabian. (She is actually part quarter horse, but she looks all Arab with her
big eyes, pony size mouth, narrow shoulders, pot belly and high tail
carriage...). Our horses by this time were so well behaved that we didn't even
tie them up when we dressed them with tack. So for a brief moment Diamond walks
over to Lucy (Lucy in the Sky of Diamonds, yes I know, not intentional), and
they put their noses together. Diamond murmured little chuckles like Morse code,
and then walked away, resuming her standing spot. Kate and I looked at each
other in awe saying, "What was that? Are they planning something? What did they
say?" We thought nothing of it until we got to the big alfalfa field where we
loved to break them out into full run. As we bolted together at high speed, wind
blowing our hair back like we're on a motorcycle flying down the freeway with no
helmet, their whither vibrating mechanically beneath the saddle, and at the
same time both horses started bucking. That must have been their plan, because
Diamond never bucks!!
On a separate occasion my Lucy had thrown me, we were just trotting, but being
Arabian she's very limber and agile. She can twist her spine at a certain bump
of her trot and it just bops me straight off. It's so weird because she does it
so effortlessly, with out even bucking. When a horse trots it is a nice one,
two, one, two count. She'd trot, one, two, AND! Bop! Again I landed on all
fours. I went over her head and she backed up a little then stood there. I got
up, finally fed up with her antics and gave her a really mean look in her eye
and scolded her, "NO." The horse gasped as if she was offended by my non verbal
meanness.
Kate said that even she was afraid for a moment, afraid for the horse anyhow.
But I've never hit Lucy before in all the years and mishaps. I just saw no need
to. She knew I was pissed by my scolding. But I know that my facial expressions
can say a lot. My husband jokes about my "laser beam eyes" which on occasion can
capture the look of death. Ah, hell hath no fury of a woman's scorn. ha-ha.
That's okay, because I smile a lot too.
My mare Lucy did that little twist-bump once again while I was riding with my
dad and his cowboy buddies. We were traveling through the woods for quite some
time. I was lead. By that time my horse had gained a little respect among the
serious cowboy lads. (They used to call her "Airhead" instead of Arab.) She
hadn't bucked me off in a long time, and would go through terrain that most
horses would hesitate upon. We were going down hill on a narrow sandy path that
curved a sharp right at the bottom. We trotted down it, so we had some momentum.
Just as she turned sharply she gave me a bop and I was on the ground. The horse
kept trotting, and I got up and jogged along side her. For a brief moment I
thought I was a horse myself, jogging gently, neck and neck with the beautiful
creature. Then I hear, "Don't run." So I stopped, and then my mare stopped with
me. I mounted again as my dad and friends were gathering themselves, as they
were very frightened that I'd gotten thrown right before their eyes, that I
could have gotten hurt if I fell wrong. In all seriousness my dad's friend said
to me that he was scared for me, and that I should never let that happen again.
My young attitude tried to brush him off, but my common sense told me to listen.
Another story of horses is not about me. It's my dad who took his beloved
Diamond down to the diner instead of a car. So he tied her up to a tree in the
parking lot, and was sipping a cup of coffee when someone says, "Bill, your
horse is loose." He looks out the window and sure enough she was meandering
among the cars. Her rope she undid and she thought there was nothing better to
do than to go. By the time my dad went outside to get her she'd took off
running. He hops in his friend's pick up truck with him and they fallow the
horse who is running at a full gallop, along with traffic right down the middle
of the lane. My dad said, "I know exactly where she's going, keep fallowing her.
She's going HOME." So they did. They were fallowing a riderless horse down the
street. There is one intersection they had to cross along their path. The horse
was keeping well with the other cars on the road, but the light ahead was red.
The guys were very afraid that she'd get hit by crossing traffic. THE HORSE
STOPPED AT THE RED LIGHT! And she waited with the rest of the cars. The light
turned green, and she continued running down the street! She got to the house,
turned into the drive way, and ran down to the barn, into the pasture, and into
the barn, and there she stood in her stall by her grain bucket! What a laugh.
Once when I was young, after dinner I bolted out the back door, my mom shouts,
"Put on shoes! You'll get worms!!" I kept going throwing my hands in the air in
protest. I ran to my horse, Oakie and jumped on her bareback, with no bridle,
just a rope and halter. I'd ride her in summer evenings, and watch the sunset. I
could feel the hot summer air rising, keeping my feet warm, as the cool night
air billowed in soundlessly. I would always ride her bareback, barefoot. I'd
take her to the furthermost part of the field and run back to the barn.
Sometimes she'd run so fast it'd scare me. Horses always want to go back to the
barn when you ride, because it means their work time is over. It's a bad habit
to let your horse get into, but I enjoyed it. At the time there was construction
for condominiums nearby, which stood between us and the barn. I ran her anyways,
running through the construction zone. She kept quickening her pace, going
faster and faster. By the time we came across the foundations and heavy
construction zone we were booking, booking fast. I saw this trench ahead of us
that was probably twenty feet long, two feet wide, and five feet deep. I knew I
couldn't stop her on time with the momentum we had, I couldn't even turn her,
and if so where? I was afraid that she'd step in it, and we'd both get killed.
The horse saw it, and cleared some air. The thunder of her hooves stopped for a
brief moment, and us two were air born like a silent rocket. Ba-bum... and the
hooves thrashed on the ground again. What a rush! We ran all the way to the
barn, and I grained her, totally excited about jumping! It was fun for me at the
time being that I'd never jumped a horse before. Later I did take riding lessons
for a couple months. The instructor was so impressed with me that she started me
on jumping. I loved it. The horse was so huge and he cleared the jumps with
grace and ease. Horses can be amazing creatures.
Another non-buck story I find hilarious. You might not, but I'll tell it
anyways. Me on Lucy, who is always jogging while the other horses are walking
anyway, my dad on trusty Diamond (who saved the lives of four people who'd
gotten stranded in the mountains out west. A lady rode Diamond out there to
rescue them.) Diamond hated to run, but once she did she was like a machine. But
it was always hard to get her to go. Another girl, Cindy was on a tall lanky
Thoroughbred. Us three ran ahead of the posy. We'd come off the wooded trail and
onto a gravel road. We ran, Lucy was cantering, Cindy's horse was running too,
but Diamond was trotting the little one-two-one-two going just as fast as us. We
gradually went faster and faster. Our horses lengthened their stride, they were
loping with a one-two-three, one-two-three run, but Diamond kept trotting! She
was trotting as fast as the other horses were running! My dad was bouncing like
he was on a paint mixer! We were laughing so hard I almost fell off the saddle!
I've never seen a horse chop off the trot so quickly! My dad couldn't even sit
on the vibrating mass, he had to stand in the stirrups to hover like a jockey! I
guess you had to be there. I couldn't stop laughing at the time.
My horse Lucy has a second trot she reserves for high speed trotting. It is
where she passes like those passing race horses. She swings her left feet at the
same time, then her right feet at the same time. Usually they will trot with a
right front, left back, vice verse. It's a different sensation where you as the
rider swing back and forth instead of up and down, and it's hard for me to sit.
By doing this the horse is able to lengthen their stride and go faster with the
same energy. Diamond didn't do this. She prefers the locomotive style!
chug-chug-chug-chug....chop-chop-chop-chop...
Now we have a new horse, Vegas. He's a bay paint quarter horse, five years old,
and was used as a stud all his life. He's newly gelded, and trained. He's
remarkably gentle for a once breeding stallion. I hope I have stories of good
times with him soon. He's a good lad, and very handsome too.
