After reading last week’s message about taking cattle to grass, my trail riding friend said she’d never taken cattle to grass but could relate to the creak of her saddle and a good horse between her knees. I’ve been thinking about the different ways she and I relate to horses. Although she has a deep connection with her animals, they’re a recreational vehicle. Our ranch horses, like our pickups, are a tool to get the job done. We love them, and do our best to keep them in shape for the work, but when the work is done, we put them out to pasture and move on to the next chore.
Chances are your old ranch rig has a name, perhaps several, depending on whether it’s running right or broke down, but you don’t polish and wax it, and only occasionally clean out the bed or interior. Never know when you might need that stuff under the seat and bouncing around in back. Besides, it’ll get dirty again the next time you drive through a mud hole, or down the oil strip where the neighbor drove his cattle the other day.
Our horses get wormed, and the necessary shots; their feet are trimmed, and we brush them down after removing wet saddle blankets, Mane and tail may get prettied up, but that mostly happens if you’re going to a roping or competing in the arena. Like the ranch rig, their nicknames depend on whether they dumped you off in a cactus patch, or didn’t keep the rope tight when you doctored that heifer. We try to do most of the maintenance ourselves; the farrier, vet, and mechanic only get called in on jobs that are beyond our abilities.
Years back, town visitors at the ranch usually wanted to ride a horse. If they were experienced, and the horse was trustworthy, we turned them loose, and maybe sent one of the kids along as guide. Often, they’d ask why I didn’t join in. Well, I just spent all week in the saddle, and somebody needs to have dinner on the table when you get back…
When taking pairs to grass, the predominant mood is hope. You hope the day will go smoothly, that all the mamas and babies pair up when you get where you’re going. That the calves will keep up and not turn back. That nobody’s horse will step in a hole if they do, and you have to give chase.
You’re hoping for a good hay crop as you ride through the meadow, and that timely rains will keep the pastures lush. That fences are tight so the neighbor’s bulls stay home. That calves will gain well, and the market will be good when it’s time to sell. That the government and animal rights folks will finally realize that we know what we are doing and make our choices for the good of all, including the environment. It’s kind of like the deal with the horses and pickups. Success in our business, as in any other, depends on how well we do the maintenance.
Beyond that, if the day is fine and the animals cooperate, you probably hope the county road grader will come by soon, for good teachers, and school policies that benefit your kids’ education, for cooperation among those who aspire to lead our country, and for nobody to show up when someone decides to start a war.
See, I believe there’s a strong connection between hope and prayer. Maybe they’re the same thing, and maybe horseback is a good place to practice them.
Meet me here next week, and meanwhile do your best. Somebody might like it.