I believe I was born to ride. More specifically, horses are what I am talking about. I had my first horseback riding experience when I was just one year old. Unforgettably, It was on this older chocolate brown quarter horse named Bud, who loved to sip iced tea and eat black licorice. Undoubtedly, more often then not my mom would find me in my my favorite outfit, my cowgirl boots and my jean overalls, riding around on my plush, princess pony. I find horses so intriguing, exciting and majestic. Above all other animals they are definitely my favorite.
One would have to think I was born destined to be a horse fanatic as my favorite adult in the whole world is my Opa. Opa Brouwer owns a 160-acre ranch and for me it is almost a magical place. Filled with barns, hay, pastures and of course horses it has become like a second home to me. Opa and Oma own many horses and each one has their own distinct personally, my absolute favorite one was Bud. He was such a character. Unfortunately, last year Bud got cancer and was extremely old, for a horse, and he passed away. No doubt about it, it was because of the help of my Opa and that old stinker named Bud that I was able to begin ridding unassisted by the age of five. Of course by unassisted I mean, riding Bud while Bud just instinctively followed my Opa around and around the horse arena. Bud sure loved my Opa.
I know that as you grow up dreams come and go but the one for me that has held firm is my desire to run a horse ranch when I am old enough. I want to grow up to be just like my Opa. He is not only a fabulous rancher but he is also an amazing person. I hope to be able to learn and acquire more knowledge about horses and ranching so I can run the best possible ranch that I can. Right now my Opa has a horse named Sierra and he said when I am ready to start my own ranch he is going to give her to me! I am not old enough to bring this dream into reality yet but for now I will have to be satisfied with having my bedroom smothered in horse décor.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Careful What You Pray For
I stood with rope in hand staring at the calf that had gotten out of its pen. My young daughter was watching and I so wanted to make a good impression, so I prayed, “God please let me rope this calf.”
I threw the rope and sure enough my first throw was right on target. I grinned toward the house where my daughter was watching out the window. Then suddenly I was pulled into reality by the now mad 600 pound calf on the run. I ran so fast I swear I could see the soles of my boots coming over my shoulders. Up the hill, and across the hill. Through the wild rose patch and across a few logs. This calf was going full tilt and me right behind. My chest was heaving, my heart racing. A cold sweat had broken out on my forehead. I lost my hat and footing all about the same time. I had to do something. I heard someone yelling for help, and thought man that sounds like my voice. Then I saw my answer, a lone pine tree. Surely I could wrap the rope now stretched out for 20 feet around this tree and stop that calf dead in its tracks. I had no idea as to the amount of centrifugal force the human body can stand.
The rope around the tree did not work! It only added to my forward momentum. What to do? What to do? Suddenly like the dawning of a new day I got an idea... let go of the rope!
No sooner had my hands released the white knuckle death grip, that I stopped safely. Exhausted, but safe. Through my sweat filled eyes I spotted the calf. She too had stopped.
She gave me a “I showed you” look, dropped her head and began to graze.
Being smarter than the animal class I inched toward the end of the rope, still attached to the calf. I gingerly reached for it and within a second I was on the run again! Much to my surprise I realized we were headed right for the barn. I grinned because this time I was ready. I now had experience.
At just the right moment I let go of the rope, slammed the gate and shouted “gottcha!” When I looked toward the house my daughter had left the window, apparently bored with my misadventure. I learned several things that day; first Pride goes before the fall. Second and perhaps the most important life skill is knowing when to hold on and when to let go, what to hold on to and what to release.
I threw the rope and sure enough my first throw was right on target. I grinned toward the house where my daughter was watching out the window. Then suddenly I was pulled into reality by the now mad 600 pound calf on the run. I ran so fast I swear I could see the soles of my boots coming over my shoulders. Up the hill, and across the hill. Through the wild rose patch and across a few logs. This calf was going full tilt and me right behind. My chest was heaving, my heart racing. A cold sweat had broken out on my forehead. I lost my hat and footing all about the same time. I had to do something. I heard someone yelling for help, and thought man that sounds like my voice. Then I saw my answer, a lone pine tree. Surely I could wrap the rope now stretched out for 20 feet around this tree and stop that calf dead in its tracks. I had no idea as to the amount of centrifugal force the human body can stand.
The rope around the tree did not work! It only added to my forward momentum. What to do? What to do? Suddenly like the dawning of a new day I got an idea... let go of the rope!
No sooner had my hands released the white knuckle death grip, that I stopped safely. Exhausted, but safe. Through my sweat filled eyes I spotted the calf. She too had stopped.
She gave me a “I showed you” look, dropped her head and began to graze.
Being smarter than the animal class I inched toward the end of the rope, still attached to the calf. I gingerly reached for it and within a second I was on the run again! Much to my surprise I realized we were headed right for the barn. I grinned because this time I was ready. I now had experience.
At just the right moment I let go of the rope, slammed the gate and shouted “gottcha!” When I looked toward the house my daughter had left the window, apparently bored with my misadventure. I learned several things that day; first Pride goes before the fall. Second and perhaps the most important life skill is knowing when to hold on and when to let go, what to hold on to and what to release.
The Snubbing Post
Hebrews 12:1-2 Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.
When I come to Cowboy Church I often wear my cowboy hat. But to be honest wearing the hat feels a little uncomfortable.
Even though I’ve owned more than fifty horses and have ridden since I was a kid I feel like a fraud.
Especially when I hang out around real old-time cowboys like Art Harfman, Lincoln Blaine or Pat Headlen.
I often wish I’d grown up on a ranch. If I’d grown up punching cows, I’d have earned the right to wear this cowboy hat.
My past experiences hold me back from being comfortable in the present. I guess we all have some baggage. So I wear my cowboy hat to church but until then… it usually hangs on a peg.
A few years back I had an experience with a young horse that I will reflect on tonight. It was a warm spring day and went out to the pasture to catch up one of our three new horses. I had chosen that day to work with a little sorrel filly. We named her “Dilemma” when we brought her home from the Auction in Armstrong. There is something to say about being careful in your choice of names.
Dilemma wasn’t much to look at, just a skinny, wild-eyed three year old. We only paid $75.00 for her, but at times I was sure it was $74.50 too much. I slipped the halter over my shoulder, attempting to hide it with my arm as I walked toward the pasture, but the horses spotted it and galloped to the other side.
This was the hardest part of the job - trying to separate one of the skittish creatures in a five-acre field. If I’d grown up on a ranch, I would’ve learned to rope.
I chased after the animals, huffing and puffing as I zig and zagged. Sweat rolled down my back. One-by-one I let them out into the training area. Now I pushed them all back out until only Dilemma stood in the corner. Snorting, her eyes brimmed with fear. I looked at the ground, lowered my voice, and spoke slowly, “Good girl. You’re ok.” It took about twenty minutes and I finally got her into a 10 x 10 pen.
For the next half hour I’d take slow steps toward her, talking, watching her squirm, then taking a step back as I let her get used to me. She wanted no part of me. Her experience with us humans was limited to being separated from her herd, roped and penned, pushed into a trailer, shipped with a bunch of meat horses and dropped off at the auction.
My roping attempts just made her mad. So I gently pushed her into a corner where I had placed another panel to act as a squeeze. Slowly I brought the panel into place and squeezed her in so she could not hurt herself or me. As I touched her neck and shoulder her eyes were big and wide. Finally, she let me rub her neck with the rope. After a bit I placed the rope halter over her head and tied the knot. She stood like that for a bit. Hesitantly I released the squeeze and tried to lead her.
She wasn’t liking any of this. I took a deep breath and led her toward the round pen. She pulled back and swung her head back and forth. At that moment, I’d of paid someone to take herd improver of my hands. Changing my mind on the pen I tied her to the snubbing post.
Our snubbing post was, notice I said was? a five-foot-tall post firmly planted in the ground. An old inner tube acted as a give and take mechanism. Letting the post do it’s job I went for a coffee.
Suddenly she jumped straight into the air. She came down snorting and blowing, the whites of her eyes showing. I watched in shock. White flecks of foamed sweat flew in all directions.
Dilemma jumped forward and slammed into the snubbing post. It cracked. She hauled back again. Then she dug in with her hind legs, pulling backward. Her hind muscles tensed, the rope stretched—the inner tube strained to the max held tight—the rope halter tightened and then Crack! The snubbing post snapped, and the top of it whipped into Dilemma’s chest.
She swung around, the broken post, held fast by the inner tube and lead rope, slamming into her hindquarters. The dogs started barking and giving chase. The other horses in the pasture started running and bucking. What a zoo!
Dilemma in hysterics bolted down our mile long lane-way and turned on to an old logging road we called “Wood Cutter’s trail. She took that turn like she was rounding the last turn at the Kentucky Derby. Rocks and dust flying everywhere.
I ran to the pickup, got in, and fired it up. I followed that cloud of dust. Several miles later where the logging road had petered out in a bunch of Jack Pine there was Dilemma. White lather blanketed her from head to hoof. She stood calmly, munching grass. Next to her was the snubbing post, still securely tied to the rope.
She’d spooked because of her past experiences. The harder she ran from it, the harder the post beat her. When she quit running, she discovered that the post quit beating her. So instead of running from it, now she used it as a starting place.
Luke 9:62 No man, having put his hand to the plough and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.
As long as that horse’s mind set was back in the past she would be useless in the present. Tonight I’m taking Dilemma’s lesson to heart. I’m going to quit beating myself up with past experiences. I must learn that a person can focus so much on what did or didn’t happen in the past that it negatively affects your present state of being. Therefore I will proudly wear my cowboy hat even though I haven’t been raised on a ranch.
Each time I help a my old-time cowboy friends moving their cattle, I earn the right to wear my hat.
Each time I help Art with butchering or drive him crazy with questions about the cowboy lifestyle, I earn the right to think of myself as a cowboy.
I will use my past experiences to give me the leg up I need to ride confidently into this wilderness called life.
Philippians 3:13 Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before,
When I come to Cowboy Church I often wear my cowboy hat. But to be honest wearing the hat feels a little uncomfortable.
Even though I’ve owned more than fifty horses and have ridden since I was a kid I feel like a fraud.
Especially when I hang out around real old-time cowboys like Art Harfman, Lincoln Blaine or Pat Headlen.
I often wish I’d grown up on a ranch. If I’d grown up punching cows, I’d have earned the right to wear this cowboy hat.
My past experiences hold me back from being comfortable in the present. I guess we all have some baggage. So I wear my cowboy hat to church but until then… it usually hangs on a peg.
A few years back I had an experience with a young horse that I will reflect on tonight. It was a warm spring day and went out to the pasture to catch up one of our three new horses. I had chosen that day to work with a little sorrel filly. We named her “Dilemma” when we brought her home from the Auction in Armstrong. There is something to say about being careful in your choice of names.
Dilemma wasn’t much to look at, just a skinny, wild-eyed three year old. We only paid $75.00 for her, but at times I was sure it was $74.50 too much. I slipped the halter over my shoulder, attempting to hide it with my arm as I walked toward the pasture, but the horses spotted it and galloped to the other side.
This was the hardest part of the job - trying to separate one of the skittish creatures in a five-acre field. If I’d grown up on a ranch, I would’ve learned to rope.
I chased after the animals, huffing and puffing as I zig and zagged. Sweat rolled down my back. One-by-one I let them out into the training area. Now I pushed them all back out until only Dilemma stood in the corner. Snorting, her eyes brimmed with fear. I looked at the ground, lowered my voice, and spoke slowly, “Good girl. You’re ok.” It took about twenty minutes and I finally got her into a 10 x 10 pen.
For the next half hour I’d take slow steps toward her, talking, watching her squirm, then taking a step back as I let her get used to me. She wanted no part of me. Her experience with us humans was limited to being separated from her herd, roped and penned, pushed into a trailer, shipped with a bunch of meat horses and dropped off at the auction.
My roping attempts just made her mad. So I gently pushed her into a corner where I had placed another panel to act as a squeeze. Slowly I brought the panel into place and squeezed her in so she could not hurt herself or me. As I touched her neck and shoulder her eyes were big and wide. Finally, she let me rub her neck with the rope. After a bit I placed the rope halter over her head and tied the knot. She stood like that for a bit. Hesitantly I released the squeeze and tried to lead her.
She wasn’t liking any of this. I took a deep breath and led her toward the round pen. She pulled back and swung her head back and forth. At that moment, I’d of paid someone to take herd improver of my hands. Changing my mind on the pen I tied her to the snubbing post.
Our snubbing post was, notice I said was? a five-foot-tall post firmly planted in the ground. An old inner tube acted as a give and take mechanism. Letting the post do it’s job I went for a coffee.
Suddenly she jumped straight into the air. She came down snorting and blowing, the whites of her eyes showing. I watched in shock. White flecks of foamed sweat flew in all directions.
Dilemma jumped forward and slammed into the snubbing post. It cracked. She hauled back again. Then she dug in with her hind legs, pulling backward. Her hind muscles tensed, the rope stretched—the inner tube strained to the max held tight—the rope halter tightened and then Crack! The snubbing post snapped, and the top of it whipped into Dilemma’s chest.
She swung around, the broken post, held fast by the inner tube and lead rope, slamming into her hindquarters. The dogs started barking and giving chase. The other horses in the pasture started running and bucking. What a zoo!
Dilemma in hysterics bolted down our mile long lane-way and turned on to an old logging road we called “Wood Cutter’s trail. She took that turn like she was rounding the last turn at the Kentucky Derby. Rocks and dust flying everywhere.
I ran to the pickup, got in, and fired it up. I followed that cloud of dust. Several miles later where the logging road had petered out in a bunch of Jack Pine there was Dilemma. White lather blanketed her from head to hoof. She stood calmly, munching grass. Next to her was the snubbing post, still securely tied to the rope.
She’d spooked because of her past experiences. The harder she ran from it, the harder the post beat her. When she quit running, she discovered that the post quit beating her. So instead of running from it, now she used it as a starting place.
Luke 9:62 No man, having put his hand to the plough and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.
As long as that horse’s mind set was back in the past she would be useless in the present. Tonight I’m taking Dilemma’s lesson to heart. I’m going to quit beating myself up with past experiences. I must learn that a person can focus so much on what did or didn’t happen in the past that it negatively affects your present state of being. Therefore I will proudly wear my cowboy hat even though I haven’t been raised on a ranch.
Each time I help a my old-time cowboy friends moving their cattle, I earn the right to wear my hat.
Each time I help Art with butchering or drive him crazy with questions about the cowboy lifestyle, I earn the right to think of myself as a cowboy.
I will use my past experiences to give me the leg up I need to ride confidently into this wilderness called life.
Philippians 3:13 Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before,
Saturday, October 16, 2010
About time for an update....
Our riding arena is done - hooray! We have two stud colts left from this year's foal crop. Sulley is a Standard bred - Paint cross and Sawyer is a Paint Quarterhorse. I just weaned them and began halter breaking. So far? Way too easy. A friend popped in last week and we worked a few prospective "keepers". Freeway (Paint Quarterhorse 3 years old) was awesome and responded real good to the "Friendly Game". Ginger - well what can I say she's Ginger. Actually she ( a 6 year old Quarterhorse mare) is a real sweetie. A "big" sweetie.... she needs to lose a few pounds ... but don't tell her I said so. We also worked Gidget a rescue filly - she is a pretty incredible three year old Quarterhorse (jet black) - real quiet. And you know as I watched them in the areana I noticed they all have "kind eyes". You gotta love it when a plan comes together.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
A Good Word
Hi Ed and Judy,
It was nice talking to you tonight. I'm sending you some winter pictures of the girls. There not great but you can see how much alike they are.
Cola is not only a marvelous mom to her filly but to children as well. Her gentle nature has been instrumental in helping four children with varying degrees of Autism to have positive break throughs. She's has touched all those that meet her. However; our beginning was one of suspicion, distrust and distance. She would pin her ears while I haltered her and hesitantly comply. After weeks of gentle contact, persistence and patience she's become a different horse. Now, she helps other release from their mistrust and distance. I believe its safe to say she's become a friend of mine.
A parent offered $10,000 for her. Maybe I'm crazy but ...naaaaa to me she's priceless.*
Nova has the same gentleness and playfulness fillies and colts all have. She isn't shy with people and provokes giggles and smiles from children that were said couldn't show emotion. I'm a true believer of horse therapy. The proof is grazing in my pasture. Thanks Ed and Judy for finding this jewel
It was nice talking to you tonight. I'm sending you some winter pictures of the girls. There not great but you can see how much alike they are.
Cola is not only a marvelous mom to her filly but to children as well. Her gentle nature has been instrumental in helping four children with varying degrees of Autism to have positive break throughs. She's has touched all those that meet her. However; our beginning was one of suspicion, distrust and distance. She would pin her ears while I haltered her and hesitantly comply. After weeks of gentle contact, persistence and patience she's become a different horse. Now, she helps other release from their mistrust and distance. I believe its safe to say she's become a friend of mine.
A parent offered $10,000 for her. Maybe I'm crazy but ...naaaaa to me she's priceless.*
Nova has the same gentleness and playfulness fillies and colts all have. She isn't shy with people and provokes giggles and smiles from children that were said couldn't show emotion. I'm a true believer of horse therapy. The proof is grazing in my pasture. Thanks Ed and Judy for finding this jewel
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