Storytime: Cash, the Big Yellow... Arena Horse?

Part 1 of this story can be found here.

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One Handsome Dude

I had decided to ride Cash, for a variety of reasons. He seemed nice enough, a bit of a dopey cuddle-bug, but never too much in your space. He was attractive - ranch horse typey - big, strong, correct. To top it off, he had really nice calm eyes. For years people have been put on edge by my wild-eyed Jingle, and here I was, afraid of a horse that looked every bit the teddy-bear. Perhaps I am a fool.

At this point in my life with horses, I had ridden my fair share of babies. But, Cash was not a baby, he was an auction horse. I had yet, in my life, ridden a horse that had come from an auction - aka, completely unknown. I had always had someone be able to debrief me on personality, previous encounters with humans, etc. etc. This debrief came over a quick cup of coffee, "Bought him for a steal of a deal, looks solid, get on him and see what he does."

The day I decided to ride him could have been, potentially, very embarassing for me. Three riding leaders came out, as well as one's young child and a non-horsie husband, and we planned a small, nice and easy trail ride. Two of the auction horses would be ridden, Cash, and the little bay mare, Peso. The rest of our crew (including, of course the child) would be on our solid, dependables. If I was going to come off, it was infront of a lot more people than I generally prefer to come off around.

I think, I was a little annoying that day. (No me.. not me... never me). I took my sweeet time with Cash. I round-penned him, sent him through his basic groundwork paces. He passed with flying colours. Butterflies were still doing jumping jacks in my stomach. I tacked him up, he was an angel. Perhaps I was so used to flighty, hyper sensitive horses that I just didn't know what to do with a calm, steady horse. I felt like there was some time-bomb I didn't know about, ticking underneath his big 'ol hooves. Funny how that works, isn't it?

The only qualm he had were the bits I was choosing for him, he didn't like my argentinian snaffle, nor did he like my basic snaffle, I put him in a solid curb, nada. Finally, I pulled out a bit that I had bought earlier that year at a small used tack store. I honestly bought it because I found it interesting, I never thought I'd use it. It had really short shanks, with a roller in the centre, however, it also had two small balls that rolled independently on either side. It was a bit of a contraption. It turned out that Cash loved that damn thing, he's the first horse I've ridden that actually uses the rollers to placate himself. If he were ever nervous, you could watch his tounge and jaw work the bit around and around. The bit helped me with his only problem, a bit of a busy-head.

We headed out, our first test was almost immediate - cross a river. Cash never, ever excelled at corssing rivers in the two months I rode him. He would literally barrel through the water like a goddamn hippo being chased by gunfire. At first, it was terrifying, his legs would sprawl one way and another. Any attempts to slow him down and ask him to politely take his steps were futile. He needed to be on the other side. He hated the uneveness of the big river rocks. He didn't know how to gingerly move through them like all the other ranch horses. My stomach churned as he barreled through the river.

The ride we were going on was our easiest - dubbed "Moss Springs", for the natural spring you arrive at, however, today it felt as if it were full of tests - a river crossing out of the gate, and now a large field. Truly, a lovely field, with a bit of a rolling hill, but nice and straight - great for a good, long lope. I sucked it up and figured it was time to go for a trot. All of a sudden, I felt myself enjoying the most lovely trot I have possibly ever encountered, I sat down, let out my breath and we transitioned into a jog. Finally, I put my leg on and asked for a lope - right lead, check. smooth and controlled, check.

As I was marvelling at what an amazing horse I was riding, one of the riding leaders came up to me and commented "looks like you found yourself a rocking horse", and I certainly had. I soon discovered what my Big Yellow Horse was. He was an arena baby. (well, one can think). I used to envision his past life as we went on our rides. I think he had been owned by an older lady who had some experience, but was simply getting too up in her years to ride anymore. I think she put all the right buttons on him, but realized that she just couldn't swing her leg up anymore like she used too, and sold him.

Cash knew all the moves - sidepasses, rollbacks, back-up, circles, walk, trot, jog, lope, gallop - anything you asked of him, he would do. He could also collect, he'd come onto the bit, raise his back, and away we'd go. It was stunning. He, was truly stunning.

Jingle had been missing for a month, lost out on a neighboring ranches expanse of land. The lady who had supplied me with solid, wonderful horses to guide on the year before was gone. Horses were becoming a tight commodity around the ranch, and I knew I needed a guide-horse. I decided on Cash.

However, similiar to rivers, Cash was a Big Yellow Chicken when it came to things on the ground. Walking him through deadfall - we'd be tripping and bouncey and falling all around. He was a bit of an odd horse, I was able to open a barbed wire gate, stretch it across my leg, sidepass him through it, and then drop it so that my group could come through. However, given him an incline or decline, and he didn't seemingly know what to do with himself.

I quickly learned what an arena baby he truly was, when we encountered our first cliff...

Storytime: Me & The Big Yellow Horse, Cash.

 

Cash came into my life a stumbling and bloody mess, literally.

I had arrived at the Ranch on a Saturday morning to see four horses I didn't recognize. The Rancher had, shockingly, gone to an auction and brought home four horses - Frank, a sorrel with an ugly head, Penny, a little arab mare so skinny and old she was surely headed for slaughter, Peso, a brown mare, tiny, with a babydoll head and then Cash - a big stout Palomino. Of course, I was told, it was my duty to ride them and figure them out. Great - because I had all the time in the world to do that.

At this point, the summer season was looming very, very close. It was more important in my mind to ride the horses I knew needed a refresher, to find my own horse who was seemingly lost, and prepare and fit tack for over 60 head of horses. These 4, who turned out, each one, to be a story unto themselves, were not my main priority.

That day I had planned another search and rescue mission for my own lost horse. A friend, Sarah, came out, and the Rancher hauled us down the road, and into the neighboring property 3 leases over - Big Coulee. We rode all day, and we never did spot my damn horse. I was dejected, and ready for food and sleep. As we winded our way home through the valley, my mind skipped thoughts like pebbles being tossed across a creek. What horse would I guide on this summer? My choices were slim pickings, and I wanted something safe and reliable. What if we never find Jingle? My stomach churned in that ever-familiar way it had ever since I discovered my horse was missing.

We arrived back at the barn, unsaddled our mounts, and planned to go to dinner in town. As we were leaving we heard the nickering of two of the new horses from inside the old stud shed, that also doubled as shelter in one of our main corrals. I found it odd that two of the horses had seemingly been inside of the shed all day - it had been a nice warm spring day. Sarah had yet to meet the new four, and so we headed over to poke our heads in and say hello.

There was an old swinging gate in the middle of the shed that you could open and close to create more run-in/stall space. It had been wired closed the last time I had been inside - somehow, the two horses, Cash and Frank, had managed to open the gate, and then close the gate onto themselves. Locking them in one side of the shed without food or water all day. That side of the shed also had old fallen down panels being used as "fencing", horses weren't suppose to be on that side. Frank was unscathed, but Cash had cut up his leg, probably in a panel, and there was thick red blood dripping down his pretty yellow legs.

I sighed, I just wanted a freakin' burger.

I haltered Cash, and Sarah grabbed Frank, and we took them inside the barn. I hadn't dealt with either of them yet, but both were acting pretty calm and respectful of us. I still worried about Cash though, it's one thing to be respectful when someone is leading you, it's another to tolerate someone scrubbing out a muddy, bloody wound.

The paddocks were a mess, it had rained for weels, the river was just starting to go down, and the mud was thick and high everywhere you stepped. It wasn't exactly the cleanest environment to doctor a horse in. I pulled out the hose and had Sarah hold Cash in the middle of the aisle. I dribbled water on his leg and he seemed fine. Sarah pet his neck and talked to him. He just watched the two of us intently, never made a move. So, I picked up my sponge and started to clean out the wound, it was nasty, he had clearly got his leg stuck between a panel and had violently jerked it out. A big deep cut was just above his fetlock, and there was blood and small cuts on the inside of his other knee. Water and dirt pooled around us, and he barely ever flinched.

I sponged out the wound the best I could and applied some vetricyn to it. We left him inside and waited for the leg to dry, we didn't even know at this point if he tied well. He did, happily, and munched away on some hay and grain we gave him, while his cohort, Frank, did the same - quietly - beside him.

Our stalls had concrete floors - they were only used for tacking up, or leaving horses inside throughout the lunch hour to feed them. The Rancher, not one to believe in "doctoring", scoffed at me for wanting to wrap his leg and leave him inside on a straw bedding. So, we led him back to the shed, cleaned up the area, made sure the gate was firmly latched, and left him and Frank for the night.

My two favourite bums in the world - Cash, and Jingle.

Cash's wound healed wonderfully, after a few treatments of vetricyn, I switched to diluted betadine, and the big gash healed right up with very little scar tissue. At this point, someone had to ride him, and since I had been handling him so much I decided to give it a go.