I have a pic of me as a 2yo sitting on a big ol ranch horse –
about 30 seconds before I fell off and landed on my head. My dad thinks I
must have injured my head because I never quit thinking about horses after
that. He gave in and got me my “first horse”, Bouncy Boy, the
spring mounted, handles through the head horse that I must have completely worn
out.
My dad wasn’t a fan of horses, so I didn’t get
my first real horse until my parents divorced at 13. Before that I would
go hang out with the neighbors horses that he picked up somewhere (we think
wild off BLM) and tossed in the large acreage behind us. I befriended one
that was small and eventually got up enough guts to try to get on (no halter or
saddle). He scooted forward and I ended up diving onto a rock in a
cartoon moment.
The first horse I owned threw me off the day I tried him out
– 4yo green broke arab. I rode him up a trail behind a string of
horses and then the sellers said turn around. I was at the back of the
line, we turned and he sprinted for home. I went off and bought him
anyhow. At home, we didn’t have trails, just the pasture to ride in
and of course he didn’t know how to steer, so he’d buck me
off. I got scared and quit riding til one day I was hanging out with him
while he was eating and slid on bareback. He was haltered (didn’t
know any better back then) so I just leaned forward and steered with the top of
the halter.
We became best friends. He still tossed me off
whenever he felt like it, or scraped me off under trees. But he’d
jump with me bareback and go anywhere I asked. Always super spooky and I
had to ride in some crazy areas. I had to sell him when we moved and I
had so much fun showing what he could do. He enjoyed tossing the new
owners when they went hunting, but they could put their tiny grandkids on him
and he would take care of them over any terrain. His name was Flashy
Traveller and he was a registered arab.
