Still about Gypsy
Dad sent me and Gypsy back to the pasture one day to bring the two milk cows to the barn. It must have been spring when the new grass tempted the cattle to stay out in the pasture. Other wise the scoop of grain he gave to Jersey and Belle would have inticed them to the barn on their own. Gypsy and I cut the two cows out of the herd and took them to the barn. They next day we did the same. The following day, Gypsy brought the cows to the barn before it was time. He had been sharing the pasture with the cows. I guess Gypsy liked this new game, and he started bringing them to the barn several times a day. Then he must have decided cutting the milk cows out of the herd was too tame. He started choosing two or three other cows at a time to bring to the barn several times a day. That was too much for Dad and I had to start keeping Gypsy in a seperate pasture. Then I never knew if I would find my horse where I left him, or with the cattle or at the neighbors. The name fit, he was very much a gypsy. The only way I could be sure he'd stay put, was to lock him in the barn. But, that just seemed to be too cruel. As long as he didn't run Dads cattle all over the field, he could stay out and I think he got the idea. He was only allowed to cut cattle when one of us was riding him. When it was time to seperate calves from cows, he was very handy to have around. Calves are small and agile and very hard to seperate from their momma's. It use to take all of us running every which way to get the job done. Now, one person riding Gypsy and another at the pen, could do it. But, that was a good time to put on the saddle. If you've ever seen a cutting horse work you know how much fast maneuvering there is. Too much for us to stay on riding bareback. Gypsy loved doing it and once a calf was headed off and Gypsy knew which one, all the rider had to do was hang on.
We actually had two saddles. The western we always used when there was company to ride or we needed a saddle. We also had an english saddle. I have no idea now where it came from (Note to self....See if S or family know) The english saddle had a buckle cinch. It didn't fit Gypsy at all. You could put it on with extra blankets and if you didn't lean too far, too long, you could ride with it. Still, it had a big tendency to slide off the side. Gypsy was good about taking the saddle. He dind't puff up when you pulled the cinch on the western saddle. I never had to put my knee in his belly the way I did with Lady. Gypsy never seemed to care which way we rode him.
There was a day that, somehow, the saddle didn't get cinched tight. My friend P was there and she started across the pature while I stood at the barn door. I saw the saddle start to slip. Instead of getting off and tightening it, P turned Gypsy back toward me and urged him to hurry. When Gypsy started to trot, the saddle slid further. Still P hung on and urged Gypsy to go faster. Canter, then quickly into gallop and run. Poor confused Gypsy was trying to run with the saddle and P hanging on his side and P screaming for me. Gypsy was leaning one way and P was hanging the other way and in serious danger of sliding completely under him. Now I was running toward them to stop Gypsy before either one of them got hurt. Gypsy came right to me and stopped suddenly. The saddle made it's final slide underneath Gypsy and P finally let go. She landed on the ground under his belly and quickly crawled out. They were both safe and I could laugh. And laugh. P was trying to catch her breath and glaring at me. Which made me laugh harder. I told my horse what a good boy he was. Then, I told my friend that I'd never seen a more amazing job of riding in my life. She said something to the effect that she was glad I enjoyed it, because she was never getting on a horse again.
There was one other rider who did a lot of screaming from Gypsys back. Dad had an old army buddy and his family who visited a few times. They were "city folks through and through" and the wife told me she had never been on a horses back in her life. She wanted to know if she could just sit on Gypsy. So, I saddled him up and we went to the yard where our company was visiting with my folks. It took her husband and Dad both to get her up on Gypsys back. She was a small woman, but she was both afraid and wanting to do this. I was standing in front of Gypsy holding his nose, and he never flinched or sidestepped through the whole process. They got Roz up on Gypsys back and Dad put her feet in the stirrups. I still had the reins and she had a death grip on the saddle horn.. She was yelling at me not to move, she just wanted to sit there. Dad was talking to Roz and her husband was laughing at her. Slowly she relaxed a bit and settled down. Dad talked her into letting me walk around. Like a very small child, she hung on to the saddle horn and I took a few steps backward and Gypsy followed me. Roz started yelling. All she said, over and over, was "Glory." I stopped, but Roz said it was fun and I could walk a little more. I turned and started to lead Gypsy, and the yelling started again. "Glory, Glory,Glory." We stopped again and when I turned to look, Roz had the widest grin I'd ever seen. "Don't stop." she said. I led Gypsy around the yard and to the barn and back and Roz never stopped yelling, "Glory, Glory, Glory, Glory........."
Most of my own rides took us, Gypsy, Treasure and me, to the same spot. My favorite, out in the middle of no where place to hide from the boys and enjoy nature, with my two closest companions. I would go to the county line, then to the main highway, where I'd have to cross and then on to another township road that was more of a path through the woods than a road. I never, in over four years of riding saw a car or another person on that last road. Near the other end of the road was a stream and one of those big steel (Iron?) bridges that had beams rising high on each side. I'd get off, and Gypsy and Treasure would get drinks from the stream and I would just sit by the stream and daydream. I spent a lot of time there doing absolutely nothing. I don't suppose that would be possible nowadays. But, it never even occured to me to be afraid back then. Besides, I had my horse to escape on and a German Shepherd dog to protect me. Even my Mother didn't worry about me when Treasure was with me. And, no one ever asked me where I rode off to. Even when I was gone most of the day.
Can you picture it? Young girl with long hair pulled back and only the top half held with a rubber band. Usually in shorts and sneakers. With her horse and German Shepherd dog rambling down a hot dusty summertime road and singing at the top of her lungs, "They call the wind Mariah." Her horse giving an occasional stiff legged little jump to remind her who was in control and make her voice do a funny little stutter.
I can still see it and feel it and, "Lord, how I miss it."
It's a good thing I had this wonderfully perfect time in my life. Because the years since haven't been near as kind. Without those years of memories, I wonder who I would be now. Certainly not who I am.
We actually had two saddles. The western we always used when there was company to ride or we needed a saddle. We also had an english saddle. I have no idea now where it came from (Note to self....See if S or family know) The english saddle had a buckle cinch. It didn't fit Gypsy at all. You could put it on with extra blankets and if you didn't lean too far, too long, you could ride with it. Still, it had a big tendency to slide off the side. Gypsy was good about taking the saddle. He dind't puff up when you pulled the cinch on the western saddle. I never had to put my knee in his belly the way I did with Lady. Gypsy never seemed to care which way we rode him.
There was a day that, somehow, the saddle didn't get cinched tight. My friend P was there and she started across the pature while I stood at the barn door. I saw the saddle start to slip. Instead of getting off and tightening it, P turned Gypsy back toward me and urged him to hurry. When Gypsy started to trot, the saddle slid further. Still P hung on and urged Gypsy to go faster. Canter, then quickly into gallop and run. Poor confused Gypsy was trying to run with the saddle and P hanging on his side and P screaming for me. Gypsy was leaning one way and P was hanging the other way and in serious danger of sliding completely under him. Now I was running toward them to stop Gypsy before either one of them got hurt. Gypsy came right to me and stopped suddenly. The saddle made it's final slide underneath Gypsy and P finally let go. She landed on the ground under his belly and quickly crawled out. They were both safe and I could laugh. And laugh. P was trying to catch her breath and glaring at me. Which made me laugh harder. I told my horse what a good boy he was. Then, I told my friend that I'd never seen a more amazing job of riding in my life. She said something to the effect that she was glad I enjoyed it, because she was never getting on a horse again.
There was one other rider who did a lot of screaming from Gypsys back. Dad had an old army buddy and his family who visited a few times. They were "city folks through and through" and the wife told me she had never been on a horses back in her life. She wanted to know if she could just sit on Gypsy. So, I saddled him up and we went to the yard where our company was visiting with my folks. It took her husband and Dad both to get her up on Gypsys back. She was a small woman, but she was both afraid and wanting to do this. I was standing in front of Gypsy holding his nose, and he never flinched or sidestepped through the whole process. They got Roz up on Gypsys back and Dad put her feet in the stirrups. I still had the reins and she had a death grip on the saddle horn.. She was yelling at me not to move, she just wanted to sit there. Dad was talking to Roz and her husband was laughing at her. Slowly she relaxed a bit and settled down. Dad talked her into letting me walk around. Like a very small child, she hung on to the saddle horn and I took a few steps backward and Gypsy followed me. Roz started yelling. All she said, over and over, was "Glory." I stopped, but Roz said it was fun and I could walk a little more. I turned and started to lead Gypsy, and the yelling started again. "Glory, Glory,Glory." We stopped again and when I turned to look, Roz had the widest grin I'd ever seen. "Don't stop." she said. I led Gypsy around the yard and to the barn and back and Roz never stopped yelling, "Glory, Glory, Glory, Glory........."
Most of my own rides took us, Gypsy, Treasure and me, to the same spot. My favorite, out in the middle of no where place to hide from the boys and enjoy nature, with my two closest companions. I would go to the county line, then to the main highway, where I'd have to cross and then on to another township road that was more of a path through the woods than a road. I never, in over four years of riding saw a car or another person on that last road. Near the other end of the road was a stream and one of those big steel (Iron?) bridges that had beams rising high on each side. I'd get off, and Gypsy and Treasure would get drinks from the stream and I would just sit by the stream and daydream. I spent a lot of time there doing absolutely nothing. I don't suppose that would be possible nowadays. But, it never even occured to me to be afraid back then. Besides, I had my horse to escape on and a German Shepherd dog to protect me. Even my Mother didn't worry about me when Treasure was with me. And, no one ever asked me where I rode off to. Even when I was gone most of the day.
Can you picture it? Young girl with long hair pulled back and only the top half held with a rubber band. Usually in shorts and sneakers. With her horse and German Shepherd dog rambling down a hot dusty summertime road and singing at the top of her lungs, "They call the wind Mariah." Her horse giving an occasional stiff legged little jump to remind her who was in control and make her voice do a funny little stutter.
I can still see it and feel it and, "Lord, how I miss it."
It's a good thing I had this wonderfully perfect time in my life. Because the years since haven't been near as kind. Without those years of memories, I wonder who I would be now. Certainly not who I am.
posted by LeeAnn | 7:00 PM
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