I have always loved horses. My dad bought my older brother a Welsh pony when I was in Third grade. It was my first hand me down horse. We only rode it bareback. It was a good trainer horse. I learned how to fall off and survive. I found that to be very important in life.
In Fifth grade I bought a cob horse from my best friend for $100 and a new saddle from Wayne Abbey’s tack shop in Pine Island for $40. Best starter horse ever. In seventh grade I bought a quarter horse gelding for $400 and put thousands of miles on him. The Dodge County Saddle Club would have trail rides each month starting at the Bringgold farm. I would ride him up there and join everyone for a couple hour ride through Buehler’s Woods, and then after a late night hot dog roast I would ride him three miles back home in the dark.
Every horse has a warm place in my memory. A 3 year-old un broke Appaloosa I bought from my best friend was my project in the mid 80’s. I broke him to ride in a couple weeks and he never gave me a bit of trouble. He was a cow horse and when it was time to cut cattle he knew exactly what to do. If there were beef to herd you learned to have a firm grip on the saddle horn when your foot hit the stirrup or he was going to accelerate right out from under you.
I got the idea I wanted a draft horse to ride and bought a 5 month-old Clydesdale about 2005. That was the first time I had to halter break a colt that outweighed me by a couple times. He walked right over me for the first month before he learned to respect the lead rope. I ended up riding him bareback most the time because I couldn’t get my foot high enough to reach the stirrup.
In 2007 I traded a cob horse for a 5 year-old un broke Paint gelding. His name was Mayson and he was beautiful. Not being under a saddle for 5 years presented a challenge. We went through a month during training where he did his best to shed both saddle and rider. I won and he became a terrific horse.
But my best horse story happened when I was 18 years old. I found a quarter horse for sale outside of Zumbrota. My dad and I went to check it out. It was a college girl selling her horse after winning a blue ribbon at the Goodhue Fair. My brain shut off when I saw her. The girl, not the horse. Instead of listening closely that this was halter class only, I said I wanted to ride it. They had no saddle and only an old bridle with twine string reins. My teenage boy brain still didn’t get it. It was a pretty girl and I was clearly not thinking about the horse. Ignoring common sense, I pulled the reins up, grabbed the mane and vaulted onto its back. We headed down the drive and up the ditch. Once out of sight of the girl I began to understand the situation I was in. This horse did not respond at all to the bit or the reins. After a short way down the road, the horse decided to head back to the farm at a full gallop. After thundering down the driveway and skidding to a stop in front of the surprised family, I dismounted and said they were asking more than I was interested in paying.
We got back in my truck and headed home. Once we turned onto the road my dad began to laugh uncontrollably. He said family was shocked that I would even consider mounting the horse as no one had ever ridden it before. They were certain the horse was going to return without the rider. He wasn’t sure himself that I was coming back. Unfortunately, I knew a lot more about horses than girls.
