Lessons learned while riding horses

Last week's column sparked a few memorable incidents I've experienced regarding the lack of consideration of others wherever you happen to be.

Not all of the crashes I've survived were caused by inconsiderate people. In regards to some, nobody was to blame. The wrecks stemmed from simple circumstances.

Horses are inherently unpredictable and, therefore, should always be taken seriously and with a great deal of caution.

I was showing off my then-yearling gelding some 12 years ago in an arena. There was nobody else using the arena and I decided to turn this rambunctious critter loose before I went to work with him on a lunge line.

As I released the lead from his halter, he bolted with both back legs barreling straight back, full force connecting with my thigh.

I'd been kicked previously, but never before experienced the shooting pain that sent me helplessly to the dirt. I must have been in a kneeling position, both knees planted in the deep sandy soil, for at least 15 minutes. The incident netted my leg a black-and-blue bruise the circumference of a personal-size watermelon. It graduated from purple to dark black and stayed that way for months. And did I kick the horse for good measure? No, he just ran around the arena cutting loose by kicking and bucking, rearing and letting a lot of bottled up energy unwind.

The lesson I learned is to make sure I stepped away from a animal bigger than me as I released it the next time.

Yes. Accidents do happen. In other words, be ready at any given moment for the unexpected.

That's kind of the way it is with horses, cattle and other large animals - stay on your toes.

Another wild experience was chasing cattle east of Anderson. This was a wing-dinger.

The same horse, now about three years old, had matured some, but this guy was still a late bloomer. I had put a lot of miles on him, but not nearly enough wet saddle blankets.

We were helping the cowboys drive cattle up a draw to a ridge alongside an irrigation ditch. The cattle, no way, no how, wanted to stay up there along the ditch and kept doubling back through spaces where there were no riders.

I bravely put my horse over a pile of chopped up buck brush to turn back an old cow. As we went over the pile, a branch got caught in the horse's tail and he swept it between his hind legs.

That's all it took. The next 15 seconds was an eternity of wild frenzy as he bucked and leaped to get away from that branch that would not let go. The final buck sent me over his head onto a pile of rocks for which eastern Anderson is well recognized.

I was knocked out cold with blood pouring from my head, so some of the cowgirls came to my rescue and dragged me to a tree and some shade. For obvious reasons, I let them deal with my horse. Once I regained some composure, I was helped into the boss's pickup truck where I spent the rest of the drive following the herd on a dirt road back to the holding pens and my vehicle.

Yes, my head hurt, but at least I was conscious and coherent with a small bag of ice tucked under my cowboy hat as I drove myself to the hospital. Eight staples later, I bluffed the doctors about having a ride waiting outside. Yes, I did have my truck waiting.

Anyway, I drove home, took some pain pills and the next day was in the Cottonwood Parade - on a different horse, of course. The worst part of it that day was having the cowboy hat jammed onto a very sore head.

They say cowboys and cowgirls are tough and thick skinned. Some think they're stupid. The longer I live around horses, the more stupid comes to mind. But, I'm not ready to throw in my hat and spurs yet.

I am more cautions - sometimes extremely cautious. When you reach that wise old sage age, you stop taking those risky chances when dealing with an animal 10 to 20 times your weight and a few hands taller.

When younger, I've been all-out flat galloping at a dead run and not given a thought to a horse stepping in a hole and rolling head over teakettle. Today, I give it a lot more thought before I take off fast on unknown terrain.