I have one of my married daughters and a grandson visiting for Father’s Day (2014). Got me remembering a horse I once had.

I picked up Max from a horse trader, who informed me Max was a 5-year old mustang (not a branded BLM mustang, but a mustang nonetheless) who was taken off the range and gelded a few months before I came across him. He was stout, not too tall (about 13.3 hands), good hooves, and looked like a tough little gelding. Just what I wanted.  When I bought him he had obviously been “cowboy broke” and really didn’t know much of anything. He was submissive, but not trusting and not completely gentled. He has a handful on the ground because of that.

Soon after I bought him, my young daughters (ages about 11 and 9) wanted to come see him. Of course they also wanted to bring some of their friends. I agreed and gave them all a dress code of long pants and shoes (no sandals or flip-flops). I stopped by the feed store on the way and bought several brushes. I had an idea.

I haltered Max and walked him out to the round pen and tied him pretty short to a solid post.  I messed with him until he settled down a bit. I then gave each girl a brush and warned them about getting stepped on. I then gave each one instructions as to what I wanted them to do. I started working on getting Max to let me lift his hooves while each girl picked a different spot on him to brush.

At first Max didn’t know what to think, but since there were so many people working with him at one time, on so many different parts of him, he couldn’t focus on any one thing to worry about, and since it all felt pretty good, I suppose, he quickly settled down an spent the better part of an hour just letting the girls mess and brush while I worked on getting him to let me lift and clean each hoof. He was truly relaxed and seemed to be enjoying the experience completely. I have read that the Nez Perce indians, who were known for their horsemanship and gentling methods, used a similar technique after capturing a wild horse. By the time we were done, he was a different horse. I think we became his “herd” that day.

It was amazing what that short little gentling session did for Max. He and I still had our go-rounds as we figured each other out (he was the second horse ever to put me in the dirt more than once), but he turned out to be a very good trail horse and a good friend to me. He was always hard to handle for other riders, but for me he was just what I needed at that time of my life. I had a lot of good rides on him.

When he was about 10, I was transferred out of country. Had to leave him. I gave him to the daughter of the people who owned the pasture I kept him in. She loved him, but was afraid to ride him. He lived in a 40-acre pasture with about 4-8 other horses, depending on the year, and I don’t think he was ever ridden again. I visited him about three years later, with two of my daughters. We drove out into the pasture and parked. I whistled for Max, the way I used to, and was pleased to see his head come up and his ears perk. He immediately started our way, leaving the small herd of horses without hesitation.

There we were, with no halter, no lead rope, no brushes, but we all got around him and just rubbed and petted him. It was obvious he missed that. The older daughter (age 16 then), asked if she could get on him. I told her I didn’t think that was a good idea, since we had no halter or lead, and I didn’t know how he would react, since I was sure he hadn’t been ridden, or even handled, since the last time I rode him years before. She insisted, so I told her that if he reacted, she was to simply slide off his side and into the grass, and not try to stay on.

I gave her a leg up and she slid easily onto his back. Max simply stood there and seemed to be pleased. My youngest daughter (age 9), seeing that, wouldn’t be left out and insisted she be allowed to get on behind the first. So I gave her a leg up and she slid up behind. Old Max didn’t seem to mind at all.

Back when Max was my horse, when I couldn’t ride I would often take my kids out to see him, put them on his back, and lead him around the pasture at a walk – of course, with a halter and lead rope. With him standing there so calmly, I wondered if he would remember. I started walking away from him, with my two daughters on his back, bareback, with no halter or lead rope. Max simply turned and followed. I walked all over that pasture, through the trees, over the irrigation ditch, around the pond, with Max contentedly following at my shoulder, and my girls smiling all the while.

That was the last time I saw my old mustang Max, and it was a good day.

An excellent memory for a nice Father’s Day.