I had a little free time this afternoon and the weather was nice, so I took the opportunity to go out and mess with the horses.
I have been trying to get J to let me put a halter on him, so I can start working with him. Out in the nearly two-acre pasture he’s in, with three other horses, it’s been a challenge. But! I have the secret weapon! It’s Purina Apple & Oats Horse Treats. My horses love them. I take a handful with me whenever I head out into the pasture, so I never have a problem getting the horses to come to me. Most of them look to find a halter to put their nose into, because that’s how they get a treat!
Well, except for my little mustang, Jimbo. He has a game he likes to play. He likes to see if I’ll give him a treat just for letting me scratch his nose. If I lift the halter or try to get beside him he moves off. Seems like J has been watching that and learning from him. Once Jimbo starts to move away, he and J like to take off together. So, no treats for them.
I guess J got tired of the game today, or tired of not getting a treat. I took a curry comb out into the pasture with me this time and curried all the horses. Even Jimbo let me curry him, so I spoiled him and gave him a treat for not running off while I was brushing him. J kept coming up and trying to get into my pockets. I curried him and he side-stepped away, but kept his nose pointed my direction…er…in the direction of the treats in my pocket. Once he decided I was ok there beside him with that curry comb I gave him a treat and continued brushing. After a minute or two of him standing calmly, I slipped the lead rope over his neck. I could feel J’s whole body relax, as if to say, “Well, there you go. I’m caught.” He let me slip the halter on without even a blink of his eyes.
I led him out of the pasture, surprised at how easily he leads. He does not fight the lead in the least. I took him out and, lacking a decent tie rack, tied him to the heavy-duty cow guard on the front of my truck. Then I continued to brush him until he stood calmly. I noticed he kept lifting his left rear hoof whenever I got near his hindquarters, so, rather than risk getting kicked, I decided to take him to the small arena and try some things to see how he will be with his hooves.
I grabbed a loose lead rope to use as a training stimulus for him and, holding his lead with one hand, I began tossing the end of the free lead up on his back and around his legs. It became apparent to me pretty quickly that he has had a lot of longeing training. Seems like that happens a lot with horses that have ended up at auctions or rescues. I have come across a number of such horses that have been considered green-broke or unbroke that have been very good at longeing. What I figure is that their former owners were afraid of them, so they would longe them over and over and call it “ground-work” rather than progress to getting them rideable.
J, I know, at his last owner’s place, was handled a lot by young people with troubled backgrounds as part of a treatment program (for the youth, not the horse). So, I am pretty sure he got plenty of brushing, at least on his front end, and plenty of longeing. This, I expect, is also why he’s so well broke to lead, but not easy to catch.
Anyway, after a few minutes of going round and round, while I tossed the lead rope over his back and around his legs, he finally settled down and realized I didn’t want to longe him. After he settled down, I lifted both his front hooves and messed with them a second or two, then I looped the free lead rope around his left rear pastern and lifted his hoof with it. He swung his hoof a few times and settled right down. Never did he actually kick, which pleased me immensely. After he relaxed I dropped the hoof to the ground. I repeated that process several times, until I could lift the hoof and let it down without a struggle. I did the same on the other side. I was pleased.
With that done, I took him back to the truck and tied him. I pulled out my farrier kit and decided to see if he would let me do a little work on his overgrown front hooves. Rather than risk getting a hoof halfway trimmed and running into trouble, I decided just to rasp off a bit of his toes, so as not to start off asking for too much on our first try. I was able to lift his front hooves and rasp off quite a bit of excess toe on both. He gave me surprisingly little problem with that. His rears don’t look quite so bad, so, rather than over-do things for our first session, I just lifted his rears and cleaned them, messing just a few seconds on each, before letting it back to the ground. He gave me no problem at all.
After dropping his last hoof, I gave him another treat, brushed him some more, then took him back to the pasture and let him back in with his buddies. I think both of us enjoyed the session.
I think I’m going to really like this boy. He reminds me a lot of Ranger in the way he moves an certain things he does. As I work with him, I get the impression that he is checking me out, looking to see whether he can trust me. He seems to actually want to trust me, which I find unusual. I normally have to earn their trust before they want it.
Last week I picked up a new gelding. I’ve been trying to figure out a name for him. I thought of several, but nothing stuck. Figured I’d just wait and see if something jumped out at me as the perfect name. I think I have it. I’ll get there in a minute.
He’s a golden palomino about 5 or 6 years old, I think, of unknown origin, but I think he’s got a lot of Missouri Fox Trotter in him. He looks like a Fox Trotter. He’s got the deep, narrow chest, short back, and nicely shaped head of the Fox Trotter, and he has a natural gait. In fact, in the short time I’ve had him, he’s shown several gaits as he moves through the pasture. So far I have identified five separate gaits: walk, flat-foot walk, fox trot, running walk, and a nice canter. He seems to like the fox trot best and slips into the running walk as he gets faster, until he breaks into the canter. I’m pretty excited to start working with him.
This new boy is not yet broke to ride. I was going to start his training this weekend. I had planned to go to St. George, Utah for a ride with the local Fox Trotter club and some friends, from Thursday through Monday. My plan was to take this new gelding along and start him out by ponying him along behind my mare, Lizzy. I was going to put a pack saddle on his back and get him used to having straps hanging and rubbing all over him.
Howsoever, that plan failed. I couldn’t catch the son of a gun! He would walk right up to me, let me scratch his nose, but as soon as I started moving toward him, off he would go. I worked at it for at least 45 minutes, before giving up and deciding I had to get on the road.
As luck would have it, we got rained out in St. George (I think it only rains about once every two or three years there) and I returned home yesterday afternoon. After letting Lizzy back into the pasture I used some horse treats to make another attempt at getting a halter on the new boy. No such luck…but I found he really likes the treats.
So, last night, as I was sitting in my easy chair contemplating this new horse and the challenges I’m going to have with him – the first being just catching him out of the pasture – I recognized the fact that I’m likely going to expend a number of swear words in his general direction before I get a good handle on him. That somehow turned my mind to one of my all-time favorite historical characters from Mormon lore.
J. Golden Kimball
J. Golden Kimball, son of Heber C. Kimball, was a General Authority (First Quorum of the Seventy) of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormon Church) for more than 45 years during the latter part of the 19th and beginning of the 20th centuries. He is, even today, one of the most loved and quoted (or misquoted, as the case may be) of all of the General Authorities of the church. In his time he was beloved by both Mormons and non-Mormons alike, for his straight-from-the-heart, unpolished, and unfiltered way of teaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Brother Kimball was known for his dedicated service to the Lord and to his fellowman, his deep and abiding love and support for the leaders of the church, his quick wit, and for his more-than-occasional use of foul language in his discourse, both private and public. People would come from miles around to hear him preach from the pulpit.
To this day, stories and quotes attributed to this “Mormon Will Rogers” may be heard anywhere Mormon congregations are found. Most of these stories are of questionable origin, a few have been somewhat substantiated, many have been added to and colorized to suit the occasion, but all are in keeping with the humor and character of the man, and none I have heard detract from his humble and deeply spiritual character.
At the age of 15 years, upon the death of his father, J. Golden Kimball became responsible for the maintenance of his mother and five siblings. He landed a job as a mule skinner. It is to this employment that he credited his colorful and most notable linguistic skills. He asserted that mules don’t understand plain English and that one had to speak their language, which included a wide range of various levels and intensities of foul language, in order to get them to do any work. Brother Kimball, however, later pursued formal education at the Brigham Young Academy (now Brigham Young University) and became a voracious student and reader. He allowed that what most people heard in his everyday speech was but a pitiful remnant of a once very ample vocabulary clearly comprehensible to a mule.
On one occasion, Brother Kimball was guiding several dignitaries around Salt Lake City, showing them the sights of the town and of the industry of the Mormons. As they went along, Brother Kimball heard a number of comments from particular individuals in the group about how long certain buildings had taken the Mormons to build and that such structures could have been built in half the time in their hometowns.
As they approached the Salt Lake Temple (which had been 40 years in the building), one such fellow asked how long it had taken the Mormons to build it. J. Golden turned and glibly replied, “Hell, I don’t know. It wasn’t here yesterday!”
It was also well-known that J. Golden struggled with his love of coffee after his brother-in-law Heber J. Grant, then the Prophet of the Lord, began to encouraged church membership to greater strictness in keeping the Word of Wisdom, which forbids the use of coffee, tea, tobacco and alcohol. Brother Kimball’s wife laid down the law in their home, so Brother Kimball had to get his coffee elsewhere when occasion required.
On one such occasion, it is told, J. Golden Kimball was in a particular cafe, one he often frequented, and was sitting in the back when he was recognized by one of the members of the church. She approached and asked, “Is that you drinking coffee Brother Kimball?” He quickly responded, “Ma’am, you are the third person today who has mistaken me for that S-O-B!”
On another occasion, during a semi-annual conference of the church, our Brother Kimball was preparing to preach from the pulpit of the Tabernacle in Salt Lake City. After he arose to speak, President Heber J. Grant passed him a note at the pulpit instructing him to refrain from the use of foul language during his discourse. After reading the note, Brother Kimball turned to President Grant and said, referring to the note, “Hell, Heber, I can’t read the damn thing!”
Someone once asked Brother Kimball whether he thought his use of foul language might ever endanger his membership in the church. He responded, “They can’t excommunicate me! I repent too damn fast!”
I think my favorite of all the sayings attributed to J. Golden Kimball, however is this:
“I may not always walk the straight and narrow, but I sure in hell try to cross it as often as I can.”
J. Golden Kimball was killed in a one-car accident in Nevada in 1933, at the age of 85. It has been told that when he reached the Pearly Gates, Saint Peter exclaimed, “Well Brother Golden, we finally got you here!” to which J. Golden Kimball retorted, “Yeah, but by hell, you had to kill me to do it!”
So, it occurs to me that with my new gelding being a dappled golden palomino, and knowing some of the language that might possibly slip from my lips during our get-to-know-each-other period, I might pay humble homage to one of my favorite heroes from LDS history (or maybe mythology) by christening him “J. Golden.”
I think I’ll probably just settle on calling him “J.”
J Golden, my new gelding
Here’s a video of my little herd running in the pasture. J is the one trailing the herd.
P.S.
This evening, with a little teasing and rewarding with a few horsey treats, “J” let me slip the halter up over his nose and buckle it on. I spent a few minutes brushing him and fiddling with him before letting him go again. I thought, “How about that! And not a foul word was needed.” So, we’re on our way. The journey has begun. I’m pretty excited.
Much of the information for this post was taken from an article written for Meridian Magazine in 2007 by Eric A. Eliason. You may find the article here.
Last month I posted a little about a gelding I have been considering buying, to bring my horse cadre back up to three and to find one that paired well on the trail with my Fox Trotter mare, Lizzy. I finally decided to go ahead and buy him. So, here’s a little about him.
I haven’t yet settled on a name for him, so he’s just going to be known as “the gelding” until further notice.
He was purchased last year by the previous owner at the Anderson Livestock Auction Company in Willard, Utah. The owner’s intent was to train him up and sell him, but he never got around to it. He decided to go ahead and put him up for sale this winter. That’s where I came in. I saw him on an ad in the KSL Classifieds out of Utah Valley. He was advertised as a grade Fox Trotter about ten years old, not yet broke to ride. I thought the price was high, so right off, before I went out to look, I asked whether he was firm on the price. He said he’d negotiate a bit, so I went on out.
The horse is between 14.5 and 15 hands, but is quite thin. The owner’s father told me he was way under-weight when they bought him, so he’s picked up some weight since then, but could use another 200 or so pounds. The auctioneers also told them the gelding was a four year-old Tennessee Walker, but he and his son (the owner) took a look at his teeth and estimate his age at somewhere around ten years.
The man haltered the horse and took him out into a pasture, where I could see him move a bit. The gelding had to be cornered to halter, but other than that he seemed to be well halter-broke and followed well. He let me lift a front hoof, but wasn’t comfortable with me lifting his rear hooves. He let me lift it, but kept his leg moving and wouldn’t settle down. Still, it was evident he’s had some handling. I looked at his teeth and he let me open his lips without much fuss, which actually surprised me a bit. I would guess his age to be closer to the 5-6 year range, but I’m certainly no expert in that area.
As the horse moved on a longe line, I could see him pass through a fox trot-like gait, but he went right through it to a hard trot. Still, it was a gait. I liked the way he moved and he was not a lazy mover. He showed no lameness and seemed quite athletic. His canter was smooth and even.
After a little longeing, I put my saddle on him. He let me saddle him without too much trouble, although he didn’t like me tightening the cinch and moved away. I decided to try putting a foot in the stirrup with a little weight, to see how he would react. He didn’t like that at all. He reared a bit and jumped aside. That confirmed he is not saddle broke, which was a bit disappointing (I don’t bounce like I used to).
So, after about a month of thinking about him while I looked for other options on the Internet, I finally decided to go ahead and buy this boy. I texted the owner an offer that I felt was a good one, but he stuck by his guns. Last night I met his offer and I picked up the horse today.
My policy when buying a horse, since I normally buy horses that are somewhere between broncs and greenbrokes, is that I don’t hand over the money until I have the horse in the trailer. It becomes uncomfortable to ask for money back if I can’t safely get the horse in the trailer. The one time I violated that rule I spent over two hours getting that horse in the trailer, and was lucky to get it done without serious injury to the horse or my helping hands. Luckily, this boy walked right into the trailer without any hesitation. That was a great relief to me.
So, I brought him home. After a little familiarization with my other horses over the fence rails, I let him loose with the rest of the herd. They mulled around a bit an huffed and puffed a bit, but no fighting occurred. After a few minutes the gelding moved off into the open pasture, where they spread out a little. I was pleased when he broke into a very nice fox trot and headed across the pasture with the other horses following. It appears he likes that gait and it is natural to him. He also showed a nice flat-foot walk. He should turn out to be a very nice dappled palomino once he sheds out this spring.
So, with the new fellow socializing with my other horses, I took a few pictures and a short video and left them alone. I look forward to getting started with this boy. I think he’ll pair up nicely with Lizzy and, once I get a little meat on his bones, will work well for my trail rides and pack trips. I think I’m going to like him.
It’s just January 12th and already I’m starting to feel the “cabin fever” setting in.
We’ve had somewhere around two feet or more of snow fall in the past three weeks or so here in Salem, Utah. It seems like every time we have a day or two with decent weather, something comes up to keep me from heading out for a horse ride. So, for the past several days I’ve had a nearly overwhelming desire to get into the saddle and just ride.
I find myself getting on Youtube and searching for trail rides and pack trips in places I’d like to go. Found one this evening from Miller Ranch in Scottsdale, Arizona that advertises their trail rides through Monument Valley in Arizona, on the Navajo Reservation. I’ve always wanted to do some riding at a number of sites on the “Rez” in Arizona. I need to get my foster brother, Harrison Gorman, to guide me through some of those places.
LizzyJimbo
Last week I sold my paint, Reno, so I’m now down to two horses. Hopefully, my Fox Trotter mare, Lizzy is in foal (I’ll get her checked in another month or so) and will give me a new little spotted Fox Trotter foal in September, so I’ll have to start taking it easy on her starting about July. While I love my little mustang, Jimbo, he’s just not the trail partner I want for Lizzy. Although Jimbo is a great horse and I won’t sell him, I’m wanting another Fox Trotter to pair up with Lizzy.
So, I’ve been keeping my eyes open for a good buy on a Fox Trotter gelding.
Found one in the local classifieds that has me interested. He’s a grade 10 year-old (by the owner’s guess) gelding that has a gait. The owner believes he’s a Fox Trotter, due to his build and conformation, but he was purchased at auction so he doesn’t know the breeding. He was told the horse was a 4 year-old Tennessee Walker. He was pretty poor at the time of the purchase, so I assume he was a “rescue” sort of horse that went to auction. The owner intended to put some training on the horse and sell him at a profit. Turns out the owner just didn’t have the time, so he’s got him up for sale. The owner told me he’s had a saddle on the horse, but hasn’t yet tried to ride him, doesn’t know whether he’s saddle-broke.
I went out and took a look at this fellow. The owner’s father got him into a halter and led him out for me. I could see the horse needs work right off the bat, because we had to corner him in the corral to get the halter on him. Once the halter was on, though, he behaved himself very well, just maybe a little skittish.
He is a well-put-together gelding, although still a little light – could use another hundred pounds or so. I could feel his spine back in the loin area, and he could use some muscle in his chest and back. His conformation looks much like a Fox Trotter, although the folks at the auction told them it was a Walker. He has the typical short back, deep chest, and nicely sloped shoulder and rump, of the Fox Trotter. He has straight legs and good hooves (although they need a good trimming). He’s a very nice looking dappled palomino with blond mane and tail.
I watched him on a longe line for a few minutes and he, indeed, has a gait that looks like a fox trot, although he wouldn’t stay in it long before getting quite lateral and pacey in a trot. He has a nice, smooth canter. So, whether he’s got more Walker or Fox Trotter in him I can’t say for sure, but he’s got the gait. I think I could train him to clean it up and produce a very nice fox trot.
He let me raise his front left hoof without problem, but didn’t like me lifting his left rear. Still, he didn’t try to kick me or anything. He let me saddle him, although he didn’t like me tightening the cinch. Still, no cow-kicks or aggressiveness. I tried putting a foot in the stirrup and putting some weight in it, to see if he’d let me mount. He didn’t like that and reared and jumped forward. So, I assess that he’s not saddle broke and has only been handled on the ground.
Other than that I liked him. So, it’s down to whether I really want another horse right now and whether I have the gumption and time to break and train another horse. The gelding didn’t display any aggressive nature and was actually quite calm. I think I could probably get him broke to ride without getting dumped. That’s important to me nowadays, as I approach my 58th birthday this month.
As I’ve said before, I have to take my time and really evaluate a horse before I buy. I tend to bond with my animals, especially dogs and horses, and I’m not much of a horse trader. I tend to think of them as friends and trail partners, so when I buy one, I usually keep him – warts and all. There are few bad habits a horse could have that would cause me to sell it, unless it was dangerous or just plain mean. At the same time, I try to buy horses that have no conformation, health, or behavior issues, because I know horses with those kinds of issues won’t be able to do what I want them to do. If I think I can train them out of a bad habit, or if they just don’t have any decent training, I’m generally ok with that; I like to train my own horses. However, it’s been awhile since I actually broke one. I don’t bounce like I used to, so this is something to think about with this guy.
While I think this fellow is somewhat younger than the 10 years the owner puts him at, I’m still looking at a grade horse, possibly 10 years old, whose breeding is unknown, that has no training, and is not even saddle broke. In my book that puts him in the $500 – to – free price range. The owner listed him at more than twice that.
I have a horse up for sale. He’s a very handsome, good, solid four year-old palomino paint gelding I bought earlier this year for a pack trip. We were short one horse for a trip from Eagar, Arizona to Flagstaff, Arizona, about 200 miles total. Let me tell you a little about him.
When I came across Reno, I was actually looking for a mustang in the $5-800 range, that maybe needed a little training. They are pretty much a dime-a-dozen around here, because so many folks get caught up in the romance of adopting a mustang and training it themselves, only to find out they are in way over their heads. Then, a couple years down the road they end up selling an unbroke or greenbroke mustang for almost give-away prices. Well, it’s simply a fact, and that’s what I was looking for.
Reno, as advertised
Anyway, back to Reno, I came across an ad for him and really liked the photos they included of him. He was advertised as being about 14 hands and a 3 year-old. The asking price was above what I was looking for, but was still within my range, so I decided to pass by and take a look. He was located in Heber, UT.
I found that he had been raised from a foal by the family who owned him, and that he was very personable, almost a puppy dog personality, but, also like a puppy, he was somewhat disrespectful. Now, a disrespectful puppy is one thing, but a disrespectful horse can hurt you. He wouldn’t let me lift his hooves, cow-kicked when I messed with his belly, and would turn his rump into me when he was annoyed, rather than moving away as a horse should. These things I can work out of a horse with a little training. What I look for is good conformation, good straight legs, good hooves, and a good attitude. With the exception of a quarter-crack in his right rear, he had all these things. He was also a little taller than advertised, coming in at about 14.2 or so, and stout, which I liked.
After a good inspection and a couple weeks of thinking about it I decided the quarter crack was due to lack of hoof care and not to any kind of coronet injury and that it would heal up just fine with some good care. I dickered with the owners and we agreed on a price that was good for both of us.
I have to be careful when buying a horse, because I rarely sell them. I get pretty attached to my animals and once they are mine I tend to keep them, regardless of any shortcomings they may have. I wouldn’t be a very good horse trader. So, two rules I have set for myself when horse shopping are 1) I don’t take my trailer or any money when I look at a horse for the first time (unless I have to drive a couple hours just to see it), 2) I don’t hand over the money until I have the horse in the trailer. Rule #2 is very important, because I generally buy horses that “need an experienced rider,” which usually means they have little to no training and might not have ever been in a trailer. Once I get a horse into the trailer, I’m good to pay the money.
I forgot that rule with Reno. I bought him, paid the money, then headed out to the trailer. That was a mistake I won’t make again. What a rodeo! It took us more than two hours to get him loaded. He fought, reared, fell over, and pawed. We finally got him into the trailer and headed home. Getting him out of the trailer was just about as fun. He eventually tried to turn around in my 4-horse slant-load and got stuck in the loading door. He reared over backwards and fell out of the trailer onto his back. No harm done, just shook up.
So, I knew I had my work cut out for me.
The first thing I had to take care of was the disrespect. This horse was about as friendly as any horse I have ever owned. In fact, I think he likes people better than horses. Having him in a pasture with four other horses was good for him, because they began right away to teach him the horse etiquette he had never learned, being raised by people with no other horses around.
The cow-kicking and moving away from me were first on my agenda.
Now, from my experience with horses, I have learned that training a horse is not a whole lot different than raising kids. In fact, I often wish I had garnered more horse training experience before my kids came along, but I just didn’t have time for both back then. I find that horses require a gentle, but firm hand and consistency in order for them to progress well from step to step in the training. The one exception to that rule is when something they do can get someone hurt. There are times when swift and severe punishment will cure a bad habit faster and more surely than any other method. The horse learns very quickly that “when I do that, I get hurt.” So, with that in mind I decided to cure the cow-kicking the very first day.
I have a very stout lead rope, made from the shrouds of a heavy military cargo parachute. It is about 3/4″ thick and has a very heavy brass snap hook on the end. With Reno dressed in a stout flat-braid nylon halter and a strong lead rope tied to a solid post, I moved in beside him on the “on-side” with my heavy shroud lead in my hand, dangling the heavy snap hook on about three feet of lead. With my left hand I began to touch and rub Reno’s belly. As soon as his left rear hoof came off the ground in a cow-kick I swung that heavy lead and whopped him hard on the rump with that heavy snap hook. He was quite surprised by that, so he jumped and moved away from me. We did it again. As soon as the hoof came off the ground, I whopped him. The fourth time I rubbed his belly, his hoof stayed on the ground. He has never again attempted a cow-kick as I touch his belly, rub him, brush, or saddle him.
Next up was teaching him to move away from me, rather than showing me his rump. We started that lesson when we worked on the cow-kick, but there was more to do. I found that he would not let me lift his left rear hoof. As I would try to reach for it, he would move into me and warn me off with his rump, threatening a kick (which he never did). We started working on this by me taking something pointed (not sharp) in my hand, such as the handle of a rasp, the handle ends of a pair of nippers, or a hoof pick, and whenever he moved into me I would let him move into that pointed object, so that he would feel it. The harder he pushed, the harder he felt it. He didn’t like that and learned to move away from me. I would not poke him with it, or push him away with it, but let him move into it. That way, as soon as he stepped away, the pressure was gone. Had I followed him with it, he would not have learned how to avoid the pointed object poking his hip by moving away. Now this, being a more gentle (but firm) method of training, it was several sessions before he learned not to move into me. Now, several months later, he moves away with a simple nudge from me with no stubbornness at all.
The third thing we started working on was lifting his hooves. While he was still somewhat disrespectful, he allowed me to lift his fronts and his right rear, but would not allow me to lift his left rear. I don’t know why. There is no apparent injury or scar I can see, but for some reason he’s touchy about the left rear. When I would try to lift it he would cow-kick and move away from me. He wasn’t really trying to kick me, he just didn’t want me lifting his hoof. To address this, I took my heavy lead rope and looped it around his left rear pastern, under the fetlock. I would lift his hoof with the rope and simply hold it off the ground while he kicked. I would hold both ends of the rope in my right hand, while leaning against the horse with my left, so I could keep my balance as he kicked away. You have to stand back a bit, just to make sure he doesn’t connect with one of those cow-kicks. After a minute or two, he would get tired and stop kicking. As soon as he stopped kicking and let his leg relax, I lowered it to the ground. If he kicked as I was lowering it, it got raised up again until I could lower it all the way to the ground without a struggle. In this way, after a number of sessions, Reno learned that when he was relaxed I quit bothering his leg. He also learned that the kicking did no good and was just wasted energy. Now I can lift all his feet without trouble. In fact, he lifts them for me as I reach for them. He is learning the respect lessons.
I started riding Reno shortly after I brought him home. The owners told me they had given him to a local rancher for the summer, to have him broke and trained. They said they had often seen the rancher’s kids riding him around. At the time I didn’t think too much about that, except to consider him somewhat saddle broke. I found out pretty quickly that Reno was simply greenbroke, meaning I could saddle and ride him, but he didn’t know much else. I took him for a couple rides in the local area and was pleased with him. He learned pretty quickly that I was easy to get along with and we had no real problems on the trail. In fact, my dad and I took Reno along with the rest of the horses on a three-day ride south of Moab, Utah in April, on which I was quite impressed with Reno’s calm demeanor and good head on the trail. We went up and down, and round and round, trail, no trail, bushes, gullies, over fallen trees, and even through a tunnel under a highway. Reno took little convincing and was willing to give anything I asked of him a try. I was very pleased.
Reno in his first packing training experience
I later took Reno on a day ride as a pack horse. I Loaded a 50# sack of feed in each side of a set of hard-sided, bear-proof paniers, and took him on a trail ride. As far as I know this was his first experience with a pack saddle. At first he was scared by the noise the paniers make, being hard plastic, and we had a little bit of a rodeo for a few minutes. After that, he settled down and did well. It didn’t take him long to learn to keep the paniers away from things like rocks and trees. Once we rounded a narrow trail with a rock face on his left and Reno allowed the left panier to hit the wall. The force knocked him sideways off the trail and down a steep embankment into the shallow river below. Once he got his feet back under him, he simply climbed back up the embankment, let me grab his lead rope, and we went on. By the time we were done for the day, Reno had learned to keep those paniers away from obstacles near the trail. From that day to this he has never rubbed my leg or knee on anything alongside the trail.
In May, Dad and I embarked on our pack trip. We had four horses and a mule. The horses were rotated as pack and saddle animals, to keep them fresh and rested. Reno was everything I hoped on the trip. Never did I have any problem with him.
Well, I did have one problem. When I was leading him as a pack horse, whenever I stopped to rest the horses he would walk up next to my right leg and drop his head to graze. When he would lift his head the lead rope would come up under my stirrup and get wrapped around my leg. When I complained about it out loud, Dad laughed and said it was my own fault. He pointed out that whenever Reno came up next to me, I would reach over and rub his neck and scratch his ears and he liked it! Ah, well, I guess that’s a bad habit I taught him.
You can see a video of me on Reno, crossing Clear Creek on the Arizona Trail, about 70 miles south of Flagstaff, Arizona here:
After we finished the pack trip I decided to continue Reno’s training. There are a few things I like my trail horses to know, such as moving off leg pressure and heel cues to move their fore and hind quarters; there are times on the trail when you need to position a horse in order to cross an obstacle or ascend or descend a particularly difficult place.
I took Reno into a small training arena to start working on his cues, only to find that he became extremely excited in the arena. As calm as he is on the trail, I was quite surprised. He was, in fact, so excitable in the arena that we did very little training at all. I just tried to work on him simply walking around the arena calmly. I found I was having to handle him more aggressively with the snaffle bit than I like, occasionally causing him to get a sore mouth, so I have moved him to a 3/4″ braided rawhide bosal for this training. He responds much better in the hackamore.
I generally start all my horses on a snaffle bit, then move them to a bosal hackamore for the bulk of their training. When they are easy on the controls I move them to a solid curb bit. Reno had been doing so well in the snaffle, that I had just left him in that and hadn’t done much hackamore work on him. He’s progressing well now.
The only thing I can guess with Reno is that the former trainer (the rancher) probably had his kids riding him most of the time. I expect that was often out pushing cattle, which would explain is calm demeanor on the trail, however, my guess is that the kids also attempted to try roping off him in an arena. I expect he got spurred a bit in the doing. That is the only explanation that comes to mind and fits the evidence. Regardless, I have been spending my time lately, trying to continue his training and get him over his excitement – fear – inside enclosed areas.
I normally train with spurs on , as I find horses tend to learn quicker with their judicial use and I can give more precise cues with the touch of a spur than with a heel. However, with Reno, I have removed my spurs. He over-reacts to them, I suppose, as a result of being exposed to some undisciplined spur use from his previous “trainers.” With much patience and a gentle hand, I have been slowly getting Reno to recognize what I am asking with my heel cues. He is very willing, but still reacts more out of fear than desire to learn, which makes learning difficult. Fear simply isn’t a good training tool. My job, therefore, is to teach him that my cues don’t hurt and that learning to respond to them calmly brings peace and rest (my, that sounds almost religious!).
Reno gets better each day. I have been trying to ride him more often this winter, when time allows. When I can consistently ride him an hour or two every day or so he improves rapidly.
The problem with that is that every time I ride him I like him more and more and want to sell him less and less!
Had a nice ride today with my baby sister, Crystal Barton. We started up a trail to climb Spanish Fork Peak, me on Reno and Crystal on my mustang, Jimbo. Reno, just didn’t have it in him today. He started huffing and puffing about 1/3 of the way up, and just wasn’t recovering fast enough for me, so we headed back down.
By the time we reached the truck he was doing much better, so we drove over to Diamond Fork, a little farther up Spanish Fork Canyon, and did a little riding in a little easier terrain.
Me on Reno, SF Peak in the background
Reno will need a little more work before he can make SF Peak, which surprises me, coming off our 200-mile pack trip last month. He’s young (just turned 4), so he just needs a little maturation and patient work. The trail heading up to the peak climbs several thousand feet in a matter of a few miles. It is an excellent trail for “legging up” a horse before the fall hunts, but one can easily over-do things and end up on foot. Today, turning around was the right thing to do. No sense in over-working or hurting a horse for a pleasure ride.
For those interested, the trailhead we used is up Spanish Fork Canyon (US Rte 6). Coming from Spanish Fork it is about a mile past the giant windmills. There is plenty of parking for trucks/trailers in the north side of the highway. The iron swing-gate is just west of the parking area, about 100 yards. The trail starts as a two-track, passes a fenced-in utilities installation, then heads straight up a canyon to the north. Just stay on that trail heading north and ignore anything that turns off either way. The trail heads straight up the canyon for a couple miles, then winds around the peaks and saddles and eventually arrives at the very peak. One can return on the same trail, or go over the mountain and come down Mapleton Canyon (which requires juggling vehicles and trailers for the return to the other trailhead).
Ranger and me on top of Spanish Fork Peak, 2016
The ride from Rte 6 to Mapleton Canyon parking area took us about six hours, as I recall. I forgot to take my GPS, so I can’t say exactly how far it is or what the elevation change was, but my guess is 7 or 8 miles total, end to end. Elevation change, according to maps, is about 4800′, so you are climbing at a rate of more than 1,000′ per mile. That’s a tough climb for a horse, especially when you are starting above 4700′ to begin with.
The trail is steep, but otherwise not what I consider challenging. There are a couple steep sidehills that might be a bit scary for the novice trail rider, and the occasional detour for a fallen tree, but other than that the worst of the trail is that it is quite rocky. Last year my horse made it over the trail barefoot and never got tender. I would rate it intermediate and above, for both horse and rider. Take a breast strap, and a crupper or breeching is recommended for narrow-shouldered horses.
There is a small lake or pond (depending on the time of year) just past the peak, on the way down toward Mapleton Canyon, but the water is often stagnant and filthy. Horses will drink it, but they don’t like it much. I saw no other water available when I went over the trail last year. The horses will be thirsty when you get down the mountain.
Crystal on Jimbo, climbing toward SF Peak
I recommend riding this trail the first time with someone who has been on the trail before, as the trail can be hard to find in a couple places if one doesn’t know where to look. The trail gets some foot traffic, especially during hunting season, but it is closed to all but foot or equine traffic. It sees little enough traffic that the trail is rather lightly visible in places and appears more like a deer/elk trail than a foot/horse trail, at least on the south side of the peak.
Last little note about the Spanish Fork Peak trail: The views are absolutely spectacular, once you get above the trees and break out on the west side of the mountain they are amazing. However, for most of the trail you will be in the trees and in the canyons, where the view is limited.
P.S.
I seem to have lost all the photos I took on my first ride over the Spanish Fork Trail. Sorry. I’ll get more on the next trip.
I thought I’d write up the first few days of our Eagar to Panguitch trip this year, so our followers would understand what took place to cause our current delay.
Packing up
Last Tuesday, our departure day, we got out to my pasture, where the horses were kept, and started sorting and packing our gear. Of course, it took longer than we hoped to get packed up. Separating our food supplies and gear into separate piles, packing them into paniers, saddling the horses, etc, is a real chore. We eventually just started stuffing things into paniers and figured we’d reorganize stuff in camp the first night. We just wanted to get underway.
We finally got saddled and underway about 12:50pm. Three of my grand nieces rode with us the first several miles.
Heading out through Eagar, AZ
The day was clear, not a cloud in the sky, but we faced a direct headwind blowing at about 40 miles per hour, gusting, I’m pretty sure, to over 60. At over 7,000 feet elevation, any wind is a cool one. Our first 11 miles were across a treeless high plateau, just west of Eagar, with that wind blowing in our faces. It was absolutely miserable! I fixed my eye on a cinder pit in the distance, which marked an uphill grade that would eventually take us into the trees and give us some shelter from the wind, and just kept heading for it, one step at a time.
Facing a headwind across this with no shelter in sight
The going was quite slow, as the horses didn’t like the wind any more than we did and we didn’t push them. We averaged about 2.89 miles per hour for the day, according to my GPS.
Late in the afternoon we reached the trees and worked our way along Route 260 to Forest Road (FR) 1325, which we took northward. We looked around and ended up settling on a campsite just off of FR1325, about a quarter mile from Rt 260. There was plenty of lush grass, a small stream of water for the horses, and a nice, level spot for us. We stopped around 6:30pm and settled-in for the night.
First night’s camp
We picketed the horses on the grass and let them get their fill. We let Reno and Jimbo go free and picketed Ranger and Black, since they were the leaders of the bunch. However, when I poked my head up out of my sleeping bag in the morning, all the horses were gone. While Dad started breakfast, I headed out to look for them.
It didn’t take me long to find them. Apparently the grass was just too good for them to leave it, so they just stopped at a fence at the end of the grassy pasture. Not long after, I had them tied back in camp and we were working on getting loaded up. Seemed like we had plenty of time, so we took it, and ended up heading out around 9:30am.
The plan was to head north on FR1325 about 3/4 mile to a point where the road changes direction. We would head off the road and bushwhack about 3/4 of a mile west to get out on top of the plateau, about 400 feet higher. Right off the bat we found an old logging road that took us precisely in the direction we wanted to go, so we followed it about a half mile before it simply petered-out. By our maps, we could see that we were only a few hundred feet short of the top, where it would open up into high meadows on the plateau. We tried several different routes before giving up. We just could not find a way through the trees that a pack horse could negotiate going up that last sidehill.
We turned around and headed back the way we had come and decided to head back out to Rt 260 and follow it on up to the top. That turned out to be a wise decision for us, as it was an easy climb and the road easement is very wide. At one point we found a tunnel that crossed under the highway for cattle to pass through. It was about 8′ tall and 6′ wide, or so. We took the horses through it and back, thinking it would be good experience for them for when we hit that tunnel at the bottom of the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Once we made the crest of the hill and started out onto the plateau, we again hit the wind. Just as strong as the day before, but colder. We were now somewhere around 9,500′ elevation. We had to push through the wind again, with no shelter at all, for about another mile, before we found a gate in the fence that allowed us to head back into the trees.
A herd of elk at Fish Creek
We followed a little two-track northward about a half mile and found a valley. The map indicated this was the valley of Fish Creek. As we approached the valley we spied an elk watching us. It eventually headed down over a drop-off into the valley. As we got closer we saw about 10-15 elk reposing and grazing in the valley. It was a beautiful sight.
A spring on Fish Creek
We found our way down a steep decline into the valley, by way of an elk trail, where we located a running spring. We stopped there and let the horses graze a bit while we refilled our drinking water containers. By that time we were tired and Reno was obviously uncomfortable. He was starting to give us trouble, pulling back and having to be dragged along. We decided to find a campsite and call it a day. We located a site just a couple hundred yards away that suited us perfectly: lots of grass, running stream, and a nice, level spot that was somewhat sheltered from the wind.
When we had unloaded all the horses, we found that Reno had a very tender back. He had been carrying a heavy load, over 200 pounds, for two days now, and he was very sore. We decided to make the following day a rest day, despite the fact that we had made only about 20 miles in our first two days, about 3 of which were in the wrong direction.
Finding plenty of firewood at this campsite, we decided to make a campfire for cooking, to conserve our propane. It was pleasant, sitting around the campfire that evening, but we were tired and went to bed directly after eating our supper. We again tied two horses – this time to trees – and let the other two graze freely all night.
Camp on Fish Creek
The following morning we slept-in a bit, since we were not going to be moving that day. We got up at around 6:30am. We still had all our horses there in the pasture. Dad untied Black and let him graze, but, out of an abundance of caution, I kept Ranger tied. I’m glad I did, because while we were busy cooking our breakfast, the other three horses headed for home without us noticing. Ranger started snorting and we looked up and only had one horse.
I saddled Ranger and went after the other horses. I was able to follow their tracks well enough to see that they were heading directly down the valley southeastward, following Fish Creek. I found them about a mile and a half down the valley, where the trees began to choke the valley. When they saw me and Ranger, they walked our direction and were easy to catch up. I took Black’s lead and headed back, assuming Jimbo and Reno would follow. They did…for a few hundred yards, but then began falling behind, grazing along the way. Figuring they would continue to follow and eventually get back to camp, I headed on back.
I arrived back at camp, tied Black and Ranger, and ate breakfast, which Dad had prepared in the meantime. When the other two horses hadn’t appeared by the time I finished, I decided I had better go find them. I figured they’d be right about where I last saw them, grazing in the valley. I mounted Ranger and headed out, but they were nowhere to be found. I headed back to camp and Dad saddled up Black and we headed out together to search for our lost pack horses.
Not far from where I last saw them, I located their tracks heading up a cow trail that led back out on top. We followed until we lost the trail, but it was apparent they were heading back towards Eagar. I eventually caught up with them about a half-mile from our last camp. Again, they were glad to see Ranger and came right to me. I caught up Jimbo’s lead and led them back toward camp, with Reno following. He, in fact, did follow this time.
Having learned our lesson, or so we thought, we then tied three horses and let one graze freely, but being the enterprising individuals we are, we devised a method whereby all the horses could get their fill of grazing. We tied rather large rocks to the leads of Jimbo, Ranger, and Black. We tied the horses by their front left foot with a bowline hitch, such that the rock acted as a stake. When we wanted to move the horse to better graze, we simply moved the rock. We were pretty pleased with ourselves, until the next morning, when I poked my head out of my sleeping bag and found that we were horseless. All four had left the valley.
After looking around, it became apparent that something, elk or maybe a coyote or lion, had spooked them during the night and they had dragged their rocks until they had come off the leads and the horses ran freely with their 35′ foot leads attached.
This time, while Dad made breakfast, I headed out on foot to locate our wayward herd. I was pretty sure I knew where they had gone, so I headed out. I again located their tracks on that same trail as before, heading up onto the plateau and off toward Eagar. This time they didn’t make it quite as far as before, and I might have walked right by them, except that Ranger nickered at me when he saw me. There they were, standing back in the trees, looking like they were waiting for me to find them.
They let me approach and I started catching up leads and tying them to trees, while I untied the foot-ropes. Ranger had a knot and scrape on his nose, but other than that all the horses were unharmed. As far as I knew, none of the horses had ever been ridden bareback. I would have trusted Ranger, but at 16 hands, there was no way I was going to be able to get on his back. So, I led them all back to camp on foot. When I got back, my GPS indicated I had walked about 3 miles, not counting the distance I walked earlier without the GPS. I figure I walked about 5 miles that morning. I was pooped!
So, there it was Friday morning and we had made a total of about 17 miles, and a bit.
Reno’s back was nearly back to normal now, as we had been giving him a helping of bute each morning to ease his pain and reduce the swelling. He was still a little tender, but wasn’t flinching when I brushed his back. We realized that our packs were overloaded, due to the fact that we had brought 100 pounds of Equidyne pelletized alfalfa feed with us to supplement the horses’ feed. We made the decision to dump the feed, since there was plenty of grass available. This brought our loads back down to far better levels and allowed us to redistribute the weight among the two pack horses more evenly. In an effort to take it easy on Reno, we decided to put the heavier load, the hard-sided paniers and top pack, on Jimbo and let Reno carry the soft paniers.
Back on the trail, leaving Fish Creek
We got packed up and were back on the trail by about 1pm, heading west along Fish Creek, toward FR 117.
What a beautiful ride it was. We met FR 117 less than an hour later and headed northward. We joined FR 61 several miles up the road, near the base of Green’s Peak. We followed it about 7 miles west and north toward FR 96, but stopped about 3/4 of a mile short of it, making about 11 miles for the day. We had decided to keep our mileage around ten miles to take it easy on the horses and to avoid soring Reno’s back again.
What a ride!
This day’s ride was the kind of ride Dad and I had dreamed about. We had horses that got along well, so we could ride side-by-side, which we did almost all day. We talked, dreamed, schemed, spoke of the ranches we wished we had, and talked of horses and dogs we had known over the years. I loved hearing Dad’s stories of his youth, growing up in Panguitch, Utah and surrounding areas. As badly as the day started, this day became one of those perfect days for us.
Look closely in the middle and you’ll see the antelope fawn
Several miles up FR 61, we came upon several Pronghorn Antelope. One of them had a fawn that could not have been more than a day old. Dad had seen the fawn, but I hadn’t. Suddenly it jumped up and ran across the road in front of me. I was able to snap a quick photo of it. It was something one does not often see.
We had hoped to reach FR 96 before stopping for the night, but as we passed through Gillespie Flat, we saw a beautiful campsite, several hundred yards off the road, back in some Ponderosa pines, at 8,653′ elevation, with a spring and good grass a short distance away. It was too nice to pass up.
Elk checking us out
As we were unpacking the horses, we heard something snort from back in the trees. We eventually spied a cow elk watching us from about two hundred yards away. None of our horses took note at all, except Jimbo, our mustang. He located that elk the first time it blew and was watching her with piqued interest. The elk would snort at us and Jimbo would snort right back. This went on for several minutes, with the elk working its way closer all the time. Eventually, the elk approached to within about 30 yards of camp, inspecting us and our horses closely, before moving off.
Camp Day four, on Gillespie Flat
We again decided to make a campfire for cooking and it was a good decision, because it got very cold that night, down into the 20s. We let the horses graze freely for the early evening, but made sure we kept a good eye on them. After eating our supper, we tied all four horses, Ranger and Reno by foot-ropes, so they could graze freely on the good grass. It was their turn. After supper, Dad and I sat around the fire and enjoyed the evening. We hit the sack around 9pm.
About 2:00am I was awakened by the sound of pounding hooves. I jumped up out of my sleeping bag, grabbed my flashlight and shined it toward the sound. I saw Ranger tied up against a tree and struggling. I ran to him and found he had wrapped his foot rope, around the tree until he was snubbed against the tree with his right side against the tree and his left front crossed in front of him and twisted around the tree trunk tight against the rope. He was pulling back against it with all his strength. I tried to calm him, but he was in a panic and there was no way for me to help him but to cut the rope. I ran to my bed to grab my knife, and about halfway there I heard a loud “snap”, like a large tree branch breaking, and I knew I was too late. I grabbed my knife and was back at his side within seconds. I slashed the rope with one pass, releasing his leg, but I could see his left front leg was broken, up high near the elbow. It hung awkwardly and useless, as he stood three-legged.
Ranger didn’t struggle, didn’t try to walk. He just stood there looking at me as if I might be able to help him. I held his neck and talked to him as I sobbed, knowing there was nothing I could do; knowing I would have to put him down.
By this time, Dad had made it to us. He held Ranger while I went to my saddle and retrieved my .22 rifle. I loaded it with several rounds of ammunition and carried it back to where Ranger was standing with his head held low. I spoke a few comforting words to him, mostly of comfort to me I suppose, but maybe it helped him too. I rubbed his face, said my goodbyes, then I placed the end of the barrel on his forehead and squeezed the trigger. Ranger went down immediately, shuddered a little, then relaxed. It was all I could do to contain myself.
After putting Ranger down, Dad and I went back and slid into our sleeping bags. We both shed tears as we tried to console ourselves, me for my horse, Dad for me. Surprisingly, I fell back asleep.
About 3:30am I was suddenly wide awake, with the words ringing in my brain, “Go re-tie Reno!” I had forgotten all about him being foot-tied as well. During the incident with Ranger, he had been twenty feet from his tree, grazing calmly. I jumped out of bed immediately, grabbed my flashlight and ran to Reno. I found him with about one more turn around the tree left in the lead rope before he would have been in the same predicament as Ranger. I tied him by his halter rope, then untied the foot-rope and went back to bed, passing the lifeless body of my dear friend, Ranger.
This has been difficult for me to type. The image of Ranger struggling against the rope and the sound of his leg breaking are fresh in my mind. The knowledge that just ten seconds more would have turned that tragic incident into a simple learning experience fills my heart and mind with ”what-ifs”. Knowing that if I had tied him by his halter rope, rather than a foot-rope, fills me with regret and sorrow. I just didn’t know.
The following morning, we contacted some friends, who drove out and helped us load up our horses and gear and return to Eagar.
I left Ranger there at our camp, feeling like there was no better resting place than right where he lay. I, myself, have often thought I would prefer meeting my end leaning up against a tree overlooking a beautiful valley high in the mountains, to being buried in a cemetery. His body will eventually return to the earth, providing nourishment for plants and animals alike. I like that thought. Nothing wasted.
I clipped a few locks from Ranger’s beautiful tail. I plan to make a hat band from them, which I will keep in his memory, so that part of him is always with me as I ride my trails.
I hope I am not judged too harshly for what happened to Ranger. He had been foot-tied many, many times in the past and never worried me in the least. I never considered that such a thing could happen. I had no idea. I have learned. It was a hard lesson, one that will not be forgotten.
See you on the other side, Ranger. I miss you already.
Those of you who have been following Dad and me on our Eagar, Az to Panguitch, Ut horse pack trip are probably wondering what has happened. Well here it is.
Our first four days were very tough, getting ourselves and the horses all trail broke and working together. We fought heavy winds, made route mistakes, and had our pack horses overloaded, before getting them fully legged-up. We made a grand total of 32 miles. However, on Day four, Friday, things started clicking. We only made 11 miles, but what a ride! We rode through some of the most beautiful riding country on God’s green earth! The horses were getting along well, and Dad and I rode side-by-side and talked all afternoon. This is how we had dreamed this trip would be. We found a beautiful campsite and staked out the horses. We spent the evening sitting around a campfire talking about things fathers and sons talk about around campfires. All was well.
Then disaster struck.
About 2:00am this morning, my trail buddy, Ranger, got caught up in his stake rope and panicked. Before I could free him he had broken his left front leg. There was nothing that could be done. I put him down.
To say I am heartbroken is an understatement. Ranger and I were friends. We had become a team on the trail. While I have bonded with a number of horses over my lifetime, Ranger is the only horse I have ever had that I felt bonded with me. While he had some quirks and goofy behaviors, I will remember them with affection. He was an unusual horse and I will miss him very much.
So, Dad and I are back in Eagar trying to decide whether to continue. I have Lizzy here, who made the ride last year. I brought her down to Eagar as a backup horse, not expecting to need her. She may need to step into Ranger’s shoes. Right now, however, my desires to make this trip are overshadowed by the passing of my friend, Ranger. It never pays to make important decisions while in an emotionally charged state. The visions of him struggling and my failure to be able to free him in time are still fresh in my mind. I am dealing with it, but it is tough. I lost a good friend. I had to put him down.
We will make our decision within the next couple of days. We’ll have to change our travel plans and itinerary if we continue. I’ll let everyone affected by the change in our plans know.
Thanks for all the comments of sympathy and support I have received today.
So long Ranger. Thanks for your friendship and service. See you in the next life.
Two weeks ago I was invited along with Jon Tanner and Casey & Erin Johnson to head down to the San Rafael River for a ride. The area we went to is commonly known as Swinging Bridge, named for the old wooden suspension bridge that used to carry the road traffic across the bridge. I thought crossing that bridge might be a good training exercise for my horses. We will have to cross a swinging bridge in the bottom of the Grand Canyon at the end of June on our big pack trip and I sure would hate to get there and have the horses balk.
The route from the Utah Valley (Orem/Provo/Spanish Fork) area is to take US Route 6 to Price, then State Route 10 about 29 miles south to USFS 401 (also known as Green River Cutoff Road), which is a well-maintained dirt road, just north of Castle Dale. If you hit Castle Dale, you missed the turnoff. Turn left (east) on USFS 401 and follow it about 16 miles, to USFS 332 (also known as Buckhorn Draw Road). You will pass two major intersections and USFS 332 on the north side before you get to the 332 on the south side, so just make sure you stay on 401 until you see the sign for USFS 332 on the south side of 401. Take USFS 332 south about 10 or so miles further, until you pass the old bridge over the San Rafael River. There is designated (primitive) camping in that area, but you can go on another 1/2 mile and make a right (west) and go about 3/4 of a mile and you will find another designated camp area with a half-decent corral.
At the equine camp area near Swinging Bridge
There is no water at the camp area and no facilities. The river is easy to access and close enough to water horses.
The trailhead leads directly off from there, westward, up the “Little Grand Canyon”. It’s best to go with someone who’s been there before, because in some places the trail has seen insufficient use to be clearly marked and it is not maintained. Some parts of this trail are pretty spooky for horses and riders unused to the rough country, however a decent trail horse can negotiate even the toughest parts safely. I personally do not recommend this trail for people and horses that have not done a bit of back country riding. It is not a “walk in the park,” so to speak. The trail we rode goes up the canyon a ways, then turns off into a side canyon to the south that dead-ends at Virgin Spring. The spring is a pool of clear, cool water larger than your average swimming pool. A nice place for lunch.
Virgin Spring
You can also continue to follow the river and main canyon on northwesterly, on up to Fuller Bottoms. I’m told it’s about another eight or so miles. It would be a great ride if you had someone to pick you up on the other end.
Just a note about the trail: There is quicksand in the river bottom and in some other places where water occasionally stands. Be careful and pay attention to your horse. Many of them have a sense about quicksand and can keep you and themselves out of a world of trouble. Stay to areas where other animals cross, such as cows, horses, and mules.
We rode in on Saturday morning with our group along with a group of mule riders. We crossed paths with a number of hikers and backpackers, so be aware and please be courteous. Leashes are not required on dogs. It is an excellent trail on which to have your canine trail companions along.
Reno in his first packing training experience
On this particular trail, I decided to train my new young gelding to pack. He’d never had a packsaddle on, as far as I know, and I’m sure he’d never before encountered hard paniers. I put my newly acquired TrailMax bear-resistant hard paniers on him and dropped a 50# sack of feed in each side. When we started down the trail we were dead last in the group – on purpose. We had us a pretty good little rodeo there for a few minutes as Reno and Ranger got used to the sounds and feel of the hard paniers. After about a quarter mile they began to settle down enough for me to handle them. Reno, scared of the paniers and experiencing packing for the first time, kept wanting to come up alongside me. I was afraid he would end up pushing Ranger and me off the trail and down the mountainside. After a few good whacks on the nose with his lead rope he finally recognized the wisdom in staying back and following behind.
The easy part of the trail
The trail turned out to be an excellent training experience for my pack horse, however, had I known beforehand what we faced, I wouldn’t have packed him or ponied him along. We passed through willow thickets, standing rocks, narrow trails on cliff faces, river crossings, very steep ascents and descents, and even quicksand in the river bottom. By the time we finished our ride for the day, about 16 miles in and out, he had learned about walking around things, rather than trying to bull through everything. One thing is sure, he proved to be a very sound and level-headed horse. Even when he got “pinched” between a couple rocks, after trying to get through a couple times, he stood still while I unbuckled straps on one side, so I could lift the panier over a rock. As I did so, he calmly walked on forward to get through, then allowed me to re-rig the panier. I was very pleased with him.
Due to the fact that I had one hand on the reins controlling Ranger, and one hand on the lead rope handling Reno, I was unable to get more than just a few photos and no video at all. Sorry. I’ll get some next time.
All-in-all, it was a great ride and one I plan to do again.
I’ve been shopping around for a new horse for the second leg of our Mexico-to-Canada horse pack trip. Those of you who have been following the blog will recall that my Missouri Fox Trotter mare, Lizzy, had some issues on the first leg. Her long-strided, swinging walk caused rub sores on her shoulders, chest, and rump wherever the pack saddle rigging straps rubbed. She was the only horse with this issue. It seems her summer coat of hair is a bit thinner than my other horses. For this reason, I had to keep her under riding saddle more than I wanted, which eventually caused a sore spot on her back as she began to lose weight during the last part of the trip. In the final analysis, while she is my favorite trail horse, she just isn’t the horse for this pack trip.
I was actually shopping for a new mustang, since we had such good luck with Jimbo, and came across a few possibilities, but it seemed that they were either too far away or weren’t broke enough for my needs (I don’t bounce like I used to and just didn’t want to have to deal with breaking a bucker). Then, a couple weeks ago, a horse that wasn’t too far from my locale caught my eye from an ad on KSL Classifieds, out of Heber, Utah. I kept going back to the ad, because I liked the color and build of the horse. Finally, I decided to make a call and go see him.
The ad indicated he was a grade gelding and that his sire was APHA registered. He was 3-1/2 years old, 14 hands, and had a couple months of training. The price was a little higher than I was looking for and he was a bit younger than I wanted, but I decided to take a look anyway.
I invited my good friend, Rob Prody, and we headed up to Heber one afternoon, about an hour’s drive. We took a good look at him and found he was a bit taller than stated in the ad, at about 14.5 hands, I’d guess. He has a nice, stocky build, short back, straight legs, nice chest and rump, and nice large, round hooves. He had a calm and friendly disposition and was easy to catch, although he tried to avoid being haltered. Looking at his teeth, I could see that the last of his baby teeth was about to come out, so his age was about right. The one thing that worried me a little was a quarter-crack on the outside of his right rear hoof. It wasn’t actually opened up, but I could see the line running up to the coronet. I couldn’t see any injury there, though. I also found he didn’t like me messing with his rear hooves too much, and he made a half-hearted attempt to cow-kick me a couple times. I decided not to make the purchase at that time, but told the owners I might call back in a couple weeks.
After missing out on a couple mustangs I wanted to see, and taking a couple weeks off of my horse shopping, for vacation and work, I found my mind returning to this gelding. Once I got home and had time to continue my search, I decided I would call again on this paint gelding and make an offer, before looking at three other horses I had selected to check out. The long and short is that the owner and I came to agreement on the price and agreed on the sale.
After spending an evening digging my horse trailer out of about 18″ of snow down here in Salem, with the help of a neighbor with a fairly large 4wd John Deere tractor, I was able to pick the horse up on Wednesday evening.
I again took Rob up with me, thinking that we’d just pick up the horse, stop somewhere for a dinner, then head home. You know what they say about “best laid plans.” After arriving at the owners’ place, I signed the Bill of Sale they had prepared and handed over the money. After some small talk and getting to know each other a bit, we headed out to catch-up the horse and load him into the trailer. That’s when the owner mentioned the horse had only been in one other horse trailer and they had a tough time loading him. I could feel the warning lights and horns going off in my head. Since I seem to always buy greenbroke horses, I normally don’t pay for them until I have them in the trailer. I had forgotten all about that simple protocol this time.
Well, he was easy enough to catch, and I had just a little trouble getting his halter on, but he lead easily over to the trailer. Due to the situation of the residence and the amount of snow in the drive, I had parked the truck and trailer on the side of the road. I had the emergency flashers going to keep us from getting hit by passing traffic in the dark. So, here we are bringing this greenbroke horse up to the back of my trailer in the dark with the emergency lights flashing and us shining flashlights around. Looking inside that cavernous, dark trailer, he simply said, “Nope! Not going in there!”
Realizing this was not going to be a short, easy project after the first couple of failed attempts, I pulled out a long training lead, hooked one end to his halter ring and passed the other through the tie loop in the front stall. Holding the tail of this rope, I kept pressure on him and coaxed him from inside the trailer, while my helpers attempted to haze him in from the rear. He would get right up to the trailer, then fight and pull back. I just kept the tension on him, allowing it to slip just enough to keep him from hitting his head on the trailer as he fought. My help had to really scramble a couple times to get out of his way. At one point he reared up, turned, and clopped the owner on top of the head with one of his front hooves. Luckily, he had no shoes on and the owner had a sock hat that offered some protection. Nobody, including the horse, got hurt in the process, other than the owner’s knot on the noggin. After close to two hours, the gelding got tired and simply gave up. He hopped into the trailer, I led him into the front stall, shut the divider, and we had him ready to travel. I put some hay in the manger for him and we headed off down the road.
I felt him move around a bit the first mile or so, but when we stopped at a restaurant about three miles away and checked on him he was fine and was settling down. By the time we came out after dinner, he was quite calm and I was comfortable with heading back down Provo Canyon to Salem.
My herd at pasture in Salem
Once back in Salem, at the pasture where the rest of my herd is kept, I opened the loading gate and started to back him out of the trailer. He got one leg out the back, said “Nope!” and hopped back in. After several minutes of failed attempts at coaxing him from in front, I got out of the trailer and gently coaxed him by pulling lead rope from behind, past his legs. Eventually, he came piling out and everything was good.
I led him over to the fence to allow him to meet his new pasture mates. Seeing no strong aggressive moves from him or my other horses, after a few minutes I released him into the pasture. We sat and watched them for about a half hour and it appeared he would be fine and that the other horses weren’t bullying him enough for me to worry. We left him then and headed for home.
I finally had a chance to mess with him a bit this afternoon and to start his orientation and training. Again, even in the large pasture with other horses, he was easy to catch, but made it difficult to get his halter on. We’re going to have to work on that. I curried him a bit, then tried his hooves. He allowed me to lift all his hooves, although he’s a bit spoiled. We’re going to be working on his hooves a lot, until he figures out that it’s not an optional procedure and that he might as well just relax and let me do it.
I also learned that he doesn’t like his stomach messed with. He narrowly missed me with a good cow-kick today. Had he not tried that half-hearted cow-kick when I first saw him, and had I not acted with caution this time around, he would have got me pretty good. So, we spent a few minutes working on that bad habit with the knotted end of a heavy lead rope. He learns pretty quickly.
Next week I’ll see about saddling him up and give him a bit of a test drive. I also need to take him for a vet check, Coggins test, and brand inspection.
This gelding doesn’t have a mean bone in him, but he’s very spoiled. He’s going to take some work. I think he’ll develop into a fine horse for Dad and me to take on the second leg of our Mexico-to-Canada horse pack trip.
His name is Reno, and I think it fits him. I have four months to get him into shape.
Thanks to Travis and Terra Naffziger, for selling him to me and helping load him on the trailer.
You must be logged in to post a comment.