The Tried and True is supposed to mean that someone else already tried it. In the country, sometimes you are the one who is trying what will later be that Tried and True rule. When your dad tells you to saddle up Slim and good ol’ Slim is better than five feet tall at the withers, you being only about four and half feet tall and still growing is a real handicap.
In today’s world you might look for an instruction manual in the saddle bag, or look in the oats sack for a CD and computer. (Poor cell phone reception limits the handy cell phone and You Tube videos.) But of course there were none of those things in the ‘50s and ‘60s. I expect there are none to be found in any oats sack even today. So how am I to learn how to do all that?
Just try? Just try.
Use what you already know. First, see if Ole Slim is in the corral. If that big sorrel came in from the pasture for morning oats, shut the gate quick so he can’t escape! The gate, of course, is made of heavy wood planks. The hinges may have helped the gate swing 40 years ago, but today the swinging end drags in the dust. And it seems to be the heavy end of the gate. You lean your shoulder into one of the planks and hook a handful of fingers below the next plank at about arm’s length down. Better get to swinging that gate shut! Ole Slim has been down this road before and he is gauging whether he can slide past that gate without the planks scraping his ribs in his mad escape rush. He finally twitches his ear and sucks another mouthful of oats from the bucket hanging on a spike on the barn wall. Next time he will pay more attention to this little kid with a hat too big.
Of course, Ole Slim did not come alone. Other horses too are wrestling for a share of the oats. Slim had to give way. A little dust kicks up from their trampling hooves and the horses snort, like a human would sneeze. Playing with each other, the horses ignore your tramp across the corral to the barn. You quietly (horses are naturally skittish and unusual noises often stimulate a fast turn and run across the corral) walk toward the crowd. Of course the horses nearest you shuffle the deck and slip behind the crowd, feeling less exposure to the wiles of a cowboy. (Too bad you don’t feel much like a real cowboy today. Why didn’t you practice throwing the lariat like your cousins all did?)
Ole Slim seems a little less evasive and for some reason allows you to walk up beside him. You gently pat his back where you can reach it as you slowly step along his left side toward his head. (You made sure you did not sneak up on him from his rear. A surprised horse has one heck of kick.) You slide your hand along that fine powerful neck and its sleek reddish hair. You ruffle the mane and try to straighten it a little. You pay attention so your gentle caress doesn’t run into a cockle burr or a bunch of sand burrs buried in the long hair. A real pain!
Your goal with all this foreplay, of course, is to slip a bridle between Slim’s teeth and up over his ears. But first, a wrap of a rein over his neck to make it a little easier to keep him close while you slip the bit into his mouth. Ole Slim knows your intentions and just as you reach the slimmest part of his neck, the place where you can reach a rein over his neck and tie it below his chin, he swings his head the other way. You almost fall over trying to keep him close.
But Ole Slim is just playing with you. He doesn’t trot away. Besides, he wants to get at least one more bite of oats before the day’s work starts. Finally you get a rein around his neck and slip the bridle leathers over his nose and up his face toward his proud and tall ears while you hold the bit in the other hand and push it between his lips. Of course you must slip it between his teeth. Funny how well a horse can chew oats without unclenching his teeth. You rub that cold steel bit against his teeth and he finally cooperates. You reach as high as you can and with a lot of luck get the bridle leathers to nestle in that little crook in the neck behind his ears. You buckle the chin strap and can finally lead Ole Slim closer to the barn door and nearer the heavy saddle, your next challenge.
You struggle to pull the Navaho saddle blanket from under the saddle. Oh, why didn’t you drape that thick wool blanket over the saddle to air it out last night rather than laying it across the 2X4 board that held the saddle off the dirt floor and then slopping the saddle on top of the blanket? Lazy, or just stupid?
You drag the saddle by its horn behind as you hold the blanket high to avoid tripping over it. Too bad your legs are not as long as Slim’s. You fold the blanket for a double thickness and flop it over Slim’s smooth round back. He doesn’t mind it much, but as you bend down to grab the saddle, Slim gives a little shake, like a shiver, and the blanket silently slides off his other side. He doesn’t smile, exactly, but you can tell by that innocent look in his eye that he is laughing inside.
You cuss at him, a little bit under your breath, but he knows you mean business and it better not happen again. And this time you prop the saddle up against your leg for fast retrieval while you toss that blanket again. The saddle is heavy this time of day. Of course everything seems heavy this time of day. It’s still cold. The wind hasn’t come up yet and you almost wish for a warm breeze to keep you from freezing to death. But the sun will come and it will soon be hot so you try to soak up a little cool while you can.
You hook the off side stirrup and the cinch strap buckle over the saddle horn and heft that saddle above your head, trying to not tip over backward from its weight. Slim pays attention this time. When that saddle plops onto his back the stirrup is likely to come loose and bang Ole Slim’s ribs. You of course stay alert too. If Slim flinches too much your toes might get stomped on. One fourth of a 1,000 pounds of horse still feels like a ton.
You survive the challenge and gently reach under his big chest for the thick many-stringed cinch strap. You remember that a leather strap under his belly causes a horse to buck and jump to get rid of that ticklish intrusion. You remember that a bucking strap is wrapped in the flanks, much closer to the rear legs, but you take care to not disturb the peace and quiet of that neighborhood and stay closer to the chest area of the equine anatomy while you secure the saddle in place.
You find the long leather strap fastened to the side of the saddle near its top. It is usually fastened to a D-shaped steel ring. You loop the strap down through a similar D ring on the end of the woven cinch and back up through the top through the D ring. You repeat the process two or three times. You pull the strap as tight as you can. But you notice that Ole Slim seems to need a lot of air in his lungs for some reason. You stick your knee into his ribs and a gust of air comes whooshing out. The cinch strap suddenly has a lot of slack. He frowns at you but you would frown a lot more if the saddle rolls off his well padded back and you try herding cattle riding on the bottom side of the horse.
The equipment is all set. But is your horse set? He hasn’t been ridden for a couple of days. He is well rested and the morning air is cool. A little hop, skip and jump might feel really good to him. Nothing mean, you know. Just to stretch the legs. But you have already experimented with falling off bucking horses. You have already proven the old tried and true rule that falling off a bucking horse can hurt.
With a really patient horse, you can climb up the side of the horse like a mountaineer scaling Mount Everest, like you did a few years ago. A strap here, a loop there, and a chin-up where needed. But you weighed less then. And Ole Slim wouldn’t stand still for that foolishness. You have seen the older, taller cowboys just give a little hop and straddle the horse like a jackrabbit hopping over a log. But not you.
You grab the mane of Ole Slim’s neck mane part way between the saddle horn and his ears. You grab the saddle horn with the other hand, always keeping a fairly short grip on the on-side rein. You raise your left foot up around your ear or so and slip it into the stirrup. You then use all your strength to pull yourself up so you can stand in the stirrup and swing your leg over the top. But if Ole Slim decides to test you and steps ahead a ways, then you have to hop along beside him with one foot on the ground and the other foot trapped in that stirrup up near your chin. Pretty funny, for Slim!
Finally you conquer Mount Everest and have both feet in stirrups. But are you ready for what might come next? You are glad you are not wearing spurs. They gouge a horse’s ribs pretty well and this morning that could be way too much. So you cautiously nudge his sides with your boot heels and whisper nice things to the pile of dynamite you are sitting on.
Ole Slim steps forward and seemingly calmly walks where your reins guide him. Now you will worry about that explosion all day. You head toward the gate, but it is still shut. Why didn’t you think to open it before climbing Mount Everest? But maybe that is ok. If Ole Slim decides to explode, it will be easier to catch him again if he can’t escape to the pasture. You nudge him into a trot and then a quick, short canter inside the circular corral. No problems. He seems quite content.
You ride Slim up to the wood gate and unhook the strand of barb wire holding it shut. You lift the heavy end as best you can and nudge Slim to shoulder through the gap and he obligingly helps push the gate open. What a horse! How well trained! You gain a new respect for Ole Slim’s training.
You and Slim head out toward the cattle herd just getting ready for a good morning’s graze. The baby calves have had a good suckle and are ready to bed back down for a morning snooze. One or two cows may stay nearby to monitor the nursery while the other mothers share a good morning coffee klatch while they search for the greenest grasses.
It seems rude to disturb the peace and quiet of the neighborhood but duty calls. The grass needs some tending and protection from overgrazing to reach its full potential. There won’t be much winter feed if it is not allowed to grow. So, the mothers with calves will be sorted out and moved to the next pasture where green grass is similarly sprouting and faster than it is grazed.
Slim has done this task many times. You have seen it done maybe two or three times. You find a cow that looks less full and puffy in the flank. You disturb her and make her think she will be moving on. She resists the nudge and turns back to the herd against your urging. But that is what you want. You want her to find her calf. She can sort hers from a bunch of identical calves like magic. Is it smell? Does each calf have a different wave of the hair? How does she know? But she knows. And her calf knows her too.
She spies her baby calf, lying very still in the sunny lee of a yucca plant. She keeps on walking off to the side, past the yucca, and tries to lead you away from her baby. The calf doesn’t even wiggle an ear. The cow doesn’t even look at him. But you know. She relaxed just a little when she spied her calf. Now you know which calf is hers. You get Ole Slim to walk just beside the calf. The calf suddenly bolts upright and scampers away from that tall horse. His mother gives a low moo and he trots toward her sound. She nuzzles his tail to reassure him and then marches toward the far side of the herd.
You and Slim quickly but quietly trot ahead of the cow and turn her toward the gate in the fence line over the hill. She has no intention of leaving the safety of the herd. She sharply cuts back, dodging around Slim. Slim drops his head and jumps sideways to block her path. You grab the saddle horn struggling to stay mounted. Your first thought is to cuss Slim for trying to buck you off. But your second thought is to marvel again. Slim knew what the cow was going to do before she did! He was ready. Slim is one heck of a cutting horse! Who was the great horse whisperer that trained him anyway?
The cow, with her calf trotting at her side, uses the only escape avenue left and they trot away from this herd and head toward the pasture gate. Safely through, she is where she needs to be and you and Slim head back for the next cow-calf pair.
By the end of the morning you and Slim are a smooth-running machine. You know what he will do and he is confident you won’t fall off. Soon, you are anticipating his jump by watching the cow’s head and her eye, just like Slim does. Now, sorting cow-and-calf pairs is easy! Just like the cowboys do it!
When I started out that day, my father’s only instruction was to use Slim. Without fanfare or long discussion, my dad had paired my skill level with the best horse for the job; the job of teaching a young boy how to be an experienced cowboy. No instruction manual needed. Just try. What pros. Both Dad and Slim.
Too bad I didn’t appreciate it at the time.
