|
jlf1961 -> RE: Has anyone ever noticed... (8/27/2016 9:09:30 AM)
|
Speaking of horses, when I was growing up I owned 3 quarter horse and two appy mares, along with an appy stud and an American mustang stud (never liked the idea of cutting a stallion.)
Anyway, the mustang was as black as the bottom of the lowest pit of hell and had an attitude that would put Lucifer to shame, but he and I worked well together EXCEPT when there were large bodies of water around that he could either stand in with his head and shoulders above the water or actually swim in.
Of course, if he happened to have someone on his back prior to getting in the deep end of the pool so to speak, that rider was going head over ass into said body of water.
He was also my best work/roping mount, once he knew what we were after, he was not going to stop until I had a loop around the animal (whether I changed my mind or not.)
Now, I have to explain something at this point.
In west Texas, we have what we refer to as black brush. This is a thicket of young mesquite trees, and other bushes that have long (read inch or more) thorns, and Diablo was adept at choosing the path that would a) allow him to pass without a scratch and b) insure that my legs were going to be torn to hamburger.
We would catch whatever calf or colt we were after, but in the process I would run the risk of passing out due to blood loss.
Now many of the people I worked and rode with often told me that I should send that black devil to the dog food factory, but to be honest, I liked him just the way he was.
When I enlisted, I sold my horses to a man I had worked for since I knew my mother would not be able to care for them, and Diablo went on to sire a lot of equally rebellious offspring, and everyone turned into champion ropers.
To be honest, he was not the prettiest horse I owned, he had a hammer shaped head, looked like an equine version of Arnold Schwarzenegger, but he had heart and stamina to beat all. He would go until he was about to drop, then from somewhere (I suspect it was pure orneriness) get a second wind and keep right on going.
I was working on one of my bosses places down near Del Rio once (more or less desert) and we got caught in a thunder storm, there was a lightning strike that set off a brush fire, I pushed him at a hard gallop to get back to the main house to get help to fight it.
We got there, he was so lathered he looked white. I actually thought I might have killed the old devil.
I called the vet, went with the rest of the crew to fight the fire.
The bill I got from the vet included a notation for a pair of jeans and the cost of an ER visit.
Diablo was fine, and during the vet exam, he bit her on the ass and took a large chunk of jeans (and some skin) with the bite.
And, when I got back from helping put the fire out, he had kicked open his stall and was having his way with a mare that was in season.
|
|
|
|
