Old Man

 

          It is 2021 and my “Kentucky Colt” is 21 years old – getting on in age for a horse.  (Of course I am 71 myself, and some folks think that is elderly for a human.)

 

          I have written much about “The Colt”, as he is such a remarkable animal and we have had such remarkable adventures together.  As my past writings have recounted, he was bred in Kentucky by my daughter Wendy out of a running Quarter Horse mare by her Thoroughbred stallion.  He was born and raised here on the West Boulder, and has long been the incarnation of a Harley Davidson: pure, raw, power.

          Our ranch is steep and rough.  ATVs are not an option over much of this country,  so the “Colt” has been my main ride for the past 18 years - over, under, around, and through the rocks, coulees, brush, creeks, trees, and ridges.  Our default gait for years was a long trot, only slowing occasionally to a walk, or extending to a full out run.  It was only a few years ago, at age 17, that “The Colt” would walk voluntarily.  I could sense that my time on “The Colt” was coming to an end, and I bought another horse to succeed him.

          It took a couple of years to develop that new blaze-faced horse into a cowpony, but there was a lot lacking.  I was never comfortable just giving that Blaze his head racing after a cow; he required repeated urgings to maintain a trot; and he just never had the eager, long swinging gait of “The Colt”.  I traded him off to my granddaughter to use at her dad’s feedlot.  “The Colt” remained my first pick for a tough job.

          I have a couple more excellent horses in my string, but mostly I let Eric or Ted ride them.  Occasionally a few select people have taken “The Colt” for a tough job if I was not available to ride.  But I can only describe my relationship with “The Colt” as “simpatico”.

          Most of our rides here turn out to be long and hard.  Every field on the ranch has some steep, rocky, and brushy terrain.  I always lay a bead of hard-surface weld on their shoes before nailing them on.  Going “over north” requires a quick climb of 1000 feet in elevation in addition to the steep, rocky, and brushy terrain.  There was a time when “The Colt” took it all in his long trotting stride.  For the last couple of years, however, he has settled to a walk until more effort is required.  I could feel him slowing down.  In fact, it was 4 years ago that I wrote a post entitled Slowing Down.

          This week we made a circle downriver, in anticipation of working the calves on Sunday.  There were some 5 pairs down on the river that we took up Sick’Em Creek and put in the gate near “Ted’s Camp”.  There were another handful on up the mountain side that required us to climb a thousand feet in elevation to put in the gate on the “pine ridge”.  Then we had to drop over into Alkire’s to dump another handful down into Mendenhall Creek.  And last were two pair that we brought back up to put in the Sick’Em Creek field with everyone else. 

          It was a pretty good ride.  We’d been moving for a couple of hours on some steep terrain.  We’d zigged and zagged through the trees and brush, climbed through a gulch, across some rocky side-hills, and busted out a couple of times to turn the cattle toward the gates.  I was tired.

          But now the job was finished and we turned toward home.  “The Colt” knows this country as well as I do, and I was curious which path he’d choose. 

Most often we’d head past the Pothole Lake and down Mike’s Coulee.  But that would require us to circumnavigate the Sick’Em Creek meadow and climb another couple of hundred feet.  Down the east fork of Sick’Em seemed easier.  But it’s hard on a horse to go downhill as well, and it was a long way to the bottom.  I gave “The Colt” his head.

“The Colt” and I had often come up the east fork gathering cattle in the Sick’Em Creek field.  It had been a few years since we had taken cows down the creek – and that had been a battle.  But that’s the route he chose.

Again, that trail is steep and rough.  But “The Colt” took it at a trot. We crossed the east fork a couple of times, and quickly doubled back.  We crossed the main fork, and I grabbed the horn as “The Colt” lunged up the steep bank on the other side, past Ted’s Camp.  Then I grabbed the horn again as the colt lunged up the couple of hundred yards on up to the main trail.

“The Colt” dropped back to a trot up the trail to the gate into “The Desert” field, and stopped for me to open and shut it behind us.  A long trot again as we crossed the flats of the desert claim, and down into the brushy draw.

It seemed to me that the easiest way home from there was down the road and into the hayfield – but “The Colt” had another idea.  Rather than continuing downward, he elected to cross the draw and up the ridge on the other side.  Over the ridge, he picked up the cow-trail that side-hilled straight westward toward the barn.

Through the next draw we were still following that contour trail when he seemed to realize that this was the one that the cows followed through that next finger of thornbrush where the opening was too low for a horse and rider.  “The Colt” abruptly turned right, and I grabbed the horn again has he lunged straight up the mountainside until he reached the upper trail, which led around the top of the brush. 

Over the saddle he trotted, across another rocky side-hill, over the home gulch, and down to the orchard and the gate toward the barn.

 

I’d felt a little guilty taking this old man for a ride that I had known could have turned rough.  That “Sassy” mare was fresh shod, and would have been just as eager.  I would need “The Colt” again for gathering and working calves in just a few days. 

But while “The Colt” hadn’t started this ride exhibiting all the power he had in his younger days, he had still jumped out anytime the situation required.  And it was obvious on the ride home that he still had plenty in reserve.

Why would I need to go to all the work of training a new horse?