Uncle Edgar had some horses that he kept in the pasture next to the fairgrounds. He would allow some of us to ride his horses.
Barbara White's children and I would go beg Uncle Edgar to allow us to ride the horses. we would go out to the pasture and catch them and get them ready to ride.
Jill would sometimes come with us.
I don't remember all the details, but I have memory of a couple times that we went riding. Patches was a retired bronco. Grey was a tall gentle horse. The Shetland pony was small, but was ornery. We would ride the horses depending on the people that were there and who was dominant. I ended up with riding Patches one day.
Patches liked to hold his breath when installing the saddle. This would make the cinch a little less tight, and probably more comfortable for the horse. After a bit the saddle would loosen. It was advisable to check the cinch after a bit of riding to make sure that things were all snug and proper.
The saddle loosened. I rolled to the side of the horse while clinging onto the saddle. Patches stopped and I fell to the ground. I rose and tightened the cinch, but while I was in the attitude of pulling up on the cinch that cantankerous old horse stepped back and stepped on my foot. I know it was on purpose. I pushed and shoved on the horse to get it to move from my foot. It did not put its full weight on me. We went on riding that day.
On another occasion it was my draw to get the Shetland pony. We were required to catch and prepare the horses for the ride. We managed to finally catch the horses we were going to ride. The pony did not want to be caught, and when it finally was, it did not want to be ridden, at least not by a little runt like me. I was able to mount the pony and get into position to ride it when it took off at full gallop toward the barbed wire fence. I was pulling on the reins with all my force to get the pony to stop. It finally locked its legs in a forward pointing position and skidded toward the fence. I went over the top of the saddle and over its head toward the fence. After extracting myself from the fence and beginning to check out if I was seriously wounded the pony backed up to me and started to kick. I was kicked in the head, after which I began to bleed profusely. I did not go riding that day.
Barbara White's children and I would go beg Uncle Edgar to allow us to ride the horses. we would go out to the pasture and catch them and get them ready to ride.
Jill would sometimes come with us.
I don't remember all the details, but I have memory of a couple times that we went riding. Patches was a retired bronco. Grey was a tall gentle horse. The Shetland pony was small, but was ornery. We would ride the horses depending on the people that were there and who was dominant. I ended up with riding Patches one day.
Patches liked to hold his breath when installing the saddle. This would make the cinch a little less tight, and probably more comfortable for the horse. After a bit the saddle would loosen. It was advisable to check the cinch after a bit of riding to make sure that things were all snug and proper.
The saddle loosened. I rolled to the side of the horse while clinging onto the saddle. Patches stopped and I fell to the ground. I rose and tightened the cinch, but while I was in the attitude of pulling up on the cinch that cantankerous old horse stepped back and stepped on my foot. I know it was on purpose. I pushed and shoved on the horse to get it to move from my foot. It did not put its full weight on me. We went on riding that day.
On another occasion it was my draw to get the Shetland pony. We were required to catch and prepare the horses for the ride. We managed to finally catch the horses we were going to ride. The pony did not want to be caught, and when it finally was, it did not want to be ridden, at least not by a little runt like me. I was able to mount the pony and get into position to ride it when it took off at full gallop toward the barbed wire fence. I was pulling on the reins with all my force to get the pony to stop. It finally locked its legs in a forward pointing position and skidded toward the fence. I went over the top of the saddle and over its head toward the fence. After extracting myself from the fence and beginning to check out if I was seriously wounded the pony backed up to me and started to kick. I was kicked in the head, after which I began to bleed profusely. I did not go riding that day.
