Barn Sour

Whoa Nelly.  Yep, that's us.  

Few people know this but back in the day Jon and I were cattle hands on a ranch in Texas.   Ok, fine.  We were stunt horse trainers for western movies.  Well, we were actually just champion synchronized barrel racers.  

Alright, so I've only ever ridden a horse twice, but we have had some pretty amazing adventures in our day (days?) so it's understandable if you believed any (or all) of the above.

I was recounting one such adventure this morning and it's a pretty good one so let me tell it again.  We were deep in the heart of Flint Hill country in Kansas.  A beautiful land of wild, bare hills that roll all the way to the horizon.  There's little to remind you that this is not the wild west of 1850, the occasional house and car maybe, and a lone dirt road that stretches off into the distance.  This is the authentic world in which I first rode a horse.  I am a cowboy (or girl).

The first ride was not exactly glamorous.  It was 10 pm, pitch black, and I basically followed the other horse 100 feet up the dirt road and back.  I had kind of pictured more of a long trail ride across the scrub land, into the setting sun, with my hair flowing in the wind, but beggars can't be choosers.  

My second horse ride, the next day, was a little more exciting.  Or rather, it had potential.  Gayle Jenson, the TRUE cowboy, and friend of Jon's dad, is of the 'throw-them-in-the-deep-end' school of thought.  Enough of the girls-scout, walk-around-the-ring, pony rides.  We were going to play horse tag.  I think it took me awhile to understand that he really did indeed mean that we were supposed to chase after each other, 'tag' someone and yell - "You're IT!"  All while galloping at full speed and trying not to fall off. 

I thought about everything I had learned the night before, which was...nothing...and realized that maaaaybe this wasn't a good idea.  My protestations fell on deaf ears though as Gail simply said, "Ah, you'll be fine.  I'm going to start on the other side of this pasture to make it harder for you to catch me." and turned and galloped off.  

My palms got sweaty as I saw future Emily collapsed in a puddle of broken bones on the ground.  But I'm not a quitter!  I will conquer my fears!  I will gallop!  Full speed!

I pulled myself up in the stirrups, dug in my knees and said (in my brave voice), "Let's go boy!"  Biscuit* reared up, took two steps forward and stopped.  

I tried again.  "Come on boy!  Giddyup!"  Same response.

Hmmm...maybe I'm not doing this thing right.  Maybe I need to turn his head.  Nope.  Dig in with my knees more?  Nothing.  Yell louder?  Not working.  Gosh darn it.  

Just then Biscuit whips his head around and begins trotting back toward the barn.   "Whoa!"  I try to pull back the reigns but he knew I was a beginner and wasn't fooled by my non-assertive little tug.  "Humph, city girl!"

Gayle gallops up in a cloud of dust.  He grabs the reigns, shouts a few unprintable lines and pulls Biscuit back into the pasture.   "Ok, let's try this again...ready, set, GO!" 

He races off into the distance and Biscuit immediately turns the other way and starts trotting back to the barn.  Only faster this time.  I quickly realize that I'm just along for the ride and hang on for dear life.  By the time Gayle catches us we're at the barnyard fence.  Biscuit stops and shakes his head as if to tell me to get off, the pony ride is over.

An exasperated Gayle pulls up alongside.  "Darn horse is barn sour.  He knows it's time to eat and won't do anything else.  Sorry...we'll have to play horse tag another time."

I hop down while sending up a quick prayer of thanks that I will live to see another day.  Biscuit must have been guided back to that barn by angels.  Seriously.  A quiet walk into the sunset is much more my style. 

Although training stunt horses would be pretty cool...  

*names changed to protect the innocent.  Plus I can't remember.  Plus if I had horses I'd name one Biscuit.