Sunday, November 2, 2008
Horses I've known
I also got to ride which was a real bargain. The horses were Arabian Thoroughbreds. The one I got to ride was old "Carrigan", a retired descendant of "Man of War", is what I was told. There was "PeeWee",(not her formal name, can't remember what her registered name was) and "The Canadian gelding". There was also a rebellious spoiled colt, offspring of PeeWee I think. The Canadian also had a wild streak, or a mean streak maybe. I remember once he went berserk and bucked off the old doctor. After that my job was to lunge the Canadian. I had to get up every morning at 0600, and give the horse a work out with a lunge line and a whip. I did not enjoy the early mornings, but I did get really good at snapping the whip and making it go "CRACK!!!" After two weeks of this the Canadian was more docile and doesn't crop up more in my memories.
After we left Festus for Rock Springs, Wyoming my days as a horsewoman were numbered. Sure, Wyoming is full of cowboys, but I had learned to ride English, and do jumping, which is sissy stuff for cowboys.
Much later in Austria when Jean Robinson, Janet H. and I were somewhere out in the Austrian countryside there was a horse who wanted our attention, we stood and petted him for a while, but he wanted more than just that. Jean said, "wouldn't he just love a sweetie now?" I had nothing but cough drops in my pockets, I pulled one out and let him have a sniff, only he wasn't just satisfied with a sniff, he took it with his sticky tongue, and crunched and crunched on that Strepcils cough drop. Then he let his sticky old tongue hang out while he gasped for breath to cool off his poor burning tongue. Then he started to desperately lick the fence post. To avoid awkward questions we continued our walk.
If I'd have had an apple or a sugar cube in my pocket I would have given that to the poor horse, but...beggars can't be choosers. I gave a cough drop to a gypsy kid who was begging, he didn't mind, at least I didn't see him gagging, but one time on the train with JH the border guard was going through Joan's stuff with a fine toothed comb and came across Joan's cough drops, she stuffed one into her mouth without even asking, then made a face just spit it out onto the floor!
Anyway, Landish, (means lily of the valley in Russian) was a lost cause from day one, when ever I'd give him candy he'd make sure he'd bite me in the palm of my hand as he took the candy from me. We tried to work with him, but couldn't get out there enough to make much difference to him. According to what I've been told one night there were fire crackers that were set off near the shed he was kept in and the fright of it made him run at the wall, and that was the end of his misguided life.
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9 comments:
here I never knew you were such an equestrian... well, I knew you weren't scared of Landish of course. That poor horse in Austria cracked me up! And the border guard got what she deserved for a change! I'm glad some things have changed dramatically for the better! They're downright cuddly now compared to then...
Oh yes, I was was a real equestrian with a riding habit and the whole works, that was back when I wore a ratcatcher. I added a picture to the post now of one of my favorite literary characters back then.
What, exactly, is a ratcatcher?
http://www.clarkessaddlery.co.nz/jackets_shirts.shtml
scroll down this page and you'll see some nice ratcatchers.
ok. bat story posted. not as entertaining as your renditions. i'm glad you're blogging. you could write a memoir! an enjoyable one to read at that! i love horses. I bet you've never eaten one over there in Europe have you??? have you?
well, do you know Joan Henry? Ask her about the horse meat, we ran into some red stringy stuff our first year together that put us both off our feed.
oh my. You and Joan should write memoirs. You could make a mint (and then take me shopping!!!!!)
why do they call them ratcatchers? I never thought it'd be a collar, of all things...
The whole shirt is called a ratcatcher, but it has that special collar to keep the rats out...and that building over there is a hotel.
Nothing matches a hearty deep-gut-chuckle as to the poor feller with
his tounge hanging out then licking the old fence post. Well done
T. I ve been telling the "kids" and Laurie about old Dctr Albey
our whole married existence. Good for them to hear nothing was made
up.
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