My memories of Chigger aren’t as clear as my older siblings’ would be, because I was so young when I knew him. But Chigger is the horse I learned to ride on, and he gave me the best opportunities to really learn the basics of riding. I think I was five years old when I started riding him; if I rode any earlier than that, I don’t remember it. My mom said my first ride was when I was just six months, and she took me along on a trail ride in a backpack carrier. But Chigger was the horse that started it all.
I remember one episode where we had saddled up in a hurry, loaded the horses in the trailer, and headed out to where the day’s cattle work was going to start. The feeling of butterflies in my stomach was so strong I can still feel it, and the excitement of going along with my dad and older siblings had me almost giddy. We got out to the Ferguson’s corner pasture and unloaded the horses. I was tossed up into Chigger’s saddle and everyone trotted off towards the corner gate where our round up was to begin. All of a sudden, it felt like we weren’t going in a straight line anymore, I was veering off to one side, and couldn’t figure out why. Then it hit me—my saddle was turning, and I was trotting along on the side of my horse, and none of the riders in front of me knew I was in trouble.
My older siblings had told me about a kid they went to grade school with who had held on to the saddle when it turned underneath his horse, and he suffered brain damage from being kicked repeatedly in the head. So I knew what to do—I let go. I remember falling and not getting hurt, and then everyone was yelling, and Dad was trying to catch my horse. Old Chigger was so majestic, he was a tall horse and my little black saddle had turned completely under his belly, which really “woke him up”, and he had his head high and was running circles around my dad’s horse, refusing to be caught. It took them quite a while to tame him down, I think my dad eventually roped him with his lariat. Dad was really mad at my oldest sister, because she had put my saddle on and not cinched up well enough.
This photo is of my sister Kandra on her paint horse Apache, a friend on our brown gelding Smokey, and my dad putting my sister Kellie up into the saddle on Chigger.
Another strong memory I have with Chigger was in the dead of winter, we were up in the huge hills of the school section pasture, gathering cattle to bring them in to the cornfields for the winter. All of the riders were scattered out, looking for cattle all over the high hills and valleys of this particular pasture. I was riding close to my dad, because Chigger would often act up with me and my legs were just too short for me to get him going again. We were riding fast, looking for cattle, and Chigger just wouldn’t keep up with Dad. Dad told me to just keep heading towards the windmill, and he rode off over a ridge.
Well, the wind was blowing really hard, and I think there were snowflakes in the air, and before I figured out what he was doing, Chigger had turned his tail to the wind and just parked himself with his head down, facing the opposite direction from the windmill and the other riders. I was completely exasperated with him, trying to slap the reins against him to get him going again, kicking his sides with all my might, and hammering on his rump with my gloved hands. Nothing I did had any effect on him, he just stood there. I was crying and calling for Dad, and pretty sure we were going to be stuck out there in that blizzard forever. Dad rode up before too long, said, “Hang on,” and gave old Chigger quite a slap across his hind end, which spooked him into a trot and we got out of there and caught up with the herd. But I was pretty mad at Chigger the rest of that day.
This photo is of my Dad riding Smokey and holding the reins of Chigger, on the right. Apache is in the background. This was at a July 4 picnic when I was very young, I remember that I didn’t get to ride that day.
One more Chigger story happened on a long summer cattle drive, and we were stuck behind the slow moving herd. You could pretty much put Chigger’s reins up and let him go, and he’d walk behind the herd all day, even stopping and turning to nudge calves that were lagging behind. My ankles used to get really sore when riding, I think because they had to turn into the stirrups. But I decided to get off and walk awhile and give my legs a chance to return to their normal shape. Instead of stopping Chigger, I attempted to dismount while he was still walking, and somehow ended up hanging with one boot still caught in the stirrup. Chigger continued walking along behind the herd, so tall that just my head and shoulders were bumping along on the ground. I think I must have been yelling, because my dad came running over to stop my horse and help me down.
The only time I actually got hurt, it involved Chigger, but none of it was his fault. Dad, Kandra, and I had all been out riding most of the day, and Dad was breaking in a young colt, Kokomo, and he was really tired out and not used to the amount of work we were doing that day. It was sunset and still a lot of work to be done, and Dad decided to trade horses with me and ride Chigger, who was still fresh since he’d only been carrying around a 30 pound rider all day. So he put his saddle on Chigger, put Kokomo in the horse trailer, and told me to stay in the pickup no matter what happened, not to get out.
I don’t know how long I sat there, but it was dark and all of a sudden there was a lot of banging from the trailer and the pickup started shaking from side to side. With my five year old imagination, I was certain that there was something wrong with the horse and he was going to tip the whole pickup and trailer over. So I got out to see what was wrong. I climbed up on the wheel well of the trailer and looked in, and saw Kokomo in there thrashing about. He had caught his halter in the latch of the middle gate of the trailer and had pulled it shut, and was caught up tight against it and thrashing to get loose. I was pretty sure I could help him, so I pulled on the trailer latch handle with all my might. I got it open, but as I was trying to free his halter, the latch slipped shut right on my arm. I don’t remember much after that, but Kandra said they heard a lot of screaming and rode up to find me holding my arm and crying. I do remember driving home faster than usual, and Mom getting her big mixing bowl and filling it with ice cubes and I had to hold my arm wrapped in a towel on top of the ice all the way to the doctor’s, which was over an hour away. I had twenty stitches put in that arm, and a reminder from Dad to never disobey again.
Growing up with Chigger and the chance to ride and work at such a young age is something I wouldn’t trade for anything. Those days were hot, cold, frustrating, tiring, and painful. But I knew better than to ever complain, because then I’d have to stay home with Mom. It gave me a pretty high tolerance for all of the everyday occurrences that make me tired, frustrated, and achey today….and I’m still trying to not complain, because I thank God for the chance to get to go along on this ride that is life.
