I’m on vacation this week. No, not sunning on some beautiful beach somewhere like most people would think of, but in my opinion this is better—I’m visiting my family in Idaho and spending a great percentage of my time horseback. I usually refer to my folks’ place as a “working cattle ranch”, with emphasis on the “working”. There is always more to be done than the day allows time for, and we usually only get to come out here once a year, so I try to fill the days up to the brim. It would be a shame if I just sat around and relaxed in this environment….the horses are in abundance, the work is even more persistent, and it’s hard to keep up with my seventy-year-old parents and sister. I am not used to this much physical exertion, and every muscle aches, my arms and neck are sunburned, and I am saddle sore. But this is my kind of vacation!
Today, my sister Karmen and I worked the mares again. We had noticed some cattle along an eastern alfalfa field, and they weren’t supposed to be there. Karmen said it would give us a long morning’s ride to go move them, which is exactly what our horses needed. I rode the 3 year old buckskin filly, Donegal (pronounced “Doan-ie-gal” after some western song, I don’t know), and Karmen rode Mom’s paint mare, Sage. We left at a brisk trot and held that pace for about half a mile or so. The horses were happy to go, and light on their feet. I was thankful that neither showed a willingness to buck, as we were in open, rocky territory littered with gopher holes and sagebrush.
There were about a dozen head of cattle that belonged to a neighbor, grazing along one of Dad’s fields where the irrigation system had greened up some of the grass along the edges. Karmen had called said neighbor and told him, and he responded in a careless drawl, “They know where the water is, they’ll go back when they get thirsty.” We figured they would just crawl in through our fence to get water, so we decided to move them back before that happened. We gathered them and started them north along a trail that led through the sagebrush.
Karmen was riding Sage, so she worked a lot on her buddy sour issues, making the mare ride off a hundred yards away from the horse I was riding, and keeping her in a parallel path, but far enough away she was uncomfortable with it. Sage would whinny and try to rush ahead, so Karmen would turn her in a circle with one rein, asking her to bend and work harder every time she broke into a trot. At my suggestion, she had put on just a plain smooth ring snaffle, since Sage is very soft mouthed and I thought the gag bit had made her fussy headed the day before. She seemed to settle down after awhile, and the cattle gave her something to focus on rather than trying to get back with other horses.
After a mile’s drive or so, we found the open gate they were supposed to be enclosed by, and put them in their pasture. Then checking the fence, we found another open gate that was supposed to be shut, but four-wheeler tracks showed that someone had just opened it and thrown it open and driven off, leaving it undone for the cattle to wander through. We closed all the gates, and then headed home. I was really happy to get to go on a real cattle job, and Donegal seemed to enjoy it as well. She is young, but the trainer who rode her at the beginning had done a very good job, as she handles nicely, has a really pretty headset, and is past the “coltish” stage of her riding history.
We got back in time for one of Mom’s amazing lunches (my mom is an impressive cook!) and then after that I went out and caught old Red for the kids to ride. Our eight year old daughter rode him around for awhile, and then little Jack wanted a turn. Jack is my youngest, only sixteen months, and he LOVES horses. Cowboy Dad lifted him into the saddle, and it was like he thought he belonged there. He took the reins, rode around the driveway a few times, smiled for pictures and cried when we finally took him down. Our middle son was off in the tractor with Grandpa, feeding the cows.
We helped Mom weed her flower garden, and while my husband fixed supper and babysat Jack, I went to the barn to ride Stormy. This was Stormy’s fourth ride. I saddled her, put her reins up in the round pen, and asked her to trot. She did well, with no crow-hopping this time, and so then I rode her in the round pen, asking for stops, reverses, and lots of turning. She was sweet the whole time, and when I rode her out later in the larger corral, we worked some more on stopping and turning with direct rein pressure. She is extremely laid back and so sweet to handle. Here she is in the long-reins; she didn’t spook at the reins touching her hips or legs at all.
When I got back to the house for supper, it was sundown and we were all tired from a good, long day’s vacation. My middle son said to me, “Mom, when we get back, I’m gonna get a semi truck and load up all our stuff and move out here.” I told him that I was thinking of doing the same thing.
