A Renegade Cowgirl

"Cowgirl is an attitude, really. A pioneer spirit, a special American brand of courage. The cowgirl faces life head on, lives by her own lights, and makes no excuses. Cowgirls take stands. They speak up. They defend the things they hold dear. A cowgirl might be a rancher, or a barrel racer, or a bull rider, or an actress. But she's just as likely to be a checker at the local Winn Dixie, a full-time mother, a banker, an attorney, or an astronaut."
- Dale Evans Rogers, Los Angeles, 1992

I grew up watching Roy Rogers and Dale Evans on TV and in the movies back in the ‘50s. I rarely missed an episode on Saturday morning.

I was destined to be a ‘cowgirl’, or ‘horsewoman’ from the start. In the 50s and 60s, Westerns were so popular in the movies and on TV; I remember Gunsmoke, Fury, Bonanza, Hopalong Cassidy, Sky King, Roy Rogers, just to name a few. Then there were the singing cowboys; Gene Autry, of course Roy Rogers, and the Grand Ol' Opry and Hee Haw were going strong.

I dressed in cowgirl outfits, complete with boots and hat, and even wearing a dress never stopped me from riding. I had my rocking horse and stick ponies…and then I discovered ‘real’ ponies at my great uncle’s farm…

Now, Uncle George was a real cowboy. He was weathered and worn. He worked his farm with  horses and raised Shetland ponies to take to the County Fairs, parades, and Carnivals. He had quite a large herd of ponies, large draft horses and a donkey. He had horse-drawn hay rides, sleigh rides, and huge family picnics. He took great pride in his horses and had beautiful saddles, tack, and wagons.

Lesson #1 – don’t sit on saddles with a wet bathing suit!

I had great confidence around horses…and  had a strong connection with them from the start…and I knew horses would be a big part of my life.

This complete obsession with horses grew; we moved to a new neighborhood…a block away from a horse ranch…coincidence?

I think not…

Here is where my real horse education began…learning how to care for and ride with the big kids…the owners’ teenage sons and their friends. I was in heaven; spending hours on end over there (well at least my parents knew where to find me). I was an annoying little squirt back then, hanging on the fence and repeating ‘can I ride?’ and ‘when is it my turn’.

Lesson #2 – Whining helps you get your way, sometimes…

As I grew older and more experienced, I was now one of those teenagers who graduated from fence straddler to being the girl in charge. The older teens left for college or jobs and had no interest in the horses anymore.

The picture to the left is Beauty, Lightning and Trigger. I rode Trigger and Beauty.

Here I was in a position of authority and responsibility.This was working out great for me; it was almost like having my own horses..without the expense. I traded chores for riding priviledges. But this didn't last forever. One day my folks announced we were going to ‘move’ again! I was crushed…I cried and threatened not to go. At this point they promised me that I could get my first horse and I held them to it.

Not long after we moved, I found Pal. I bought him when I was 13 with my savings and boarded him close to my new neighborhood. My grandpa became quite involved with me having a horse, as he had horses many years ago. He'd pick me up after school and we'd head out to see Pal. I think he was worried about me and wanted to keep an eye on me.

 I moved him to another farm where a couple of my friends kept their horses. The girls were close to my age and we spent a lot of time riding the hills and trails around the area. I didn’t have a saddle, so most of my riding was bareback, unless I borrowed one. I think it made me a better rider.

Picture to the left is me on Pal..wish I had some better photos, these were taken with the old 'Brownie'.

One cold, snowy day, I decided not to ride…but the other girls went anyway. We often would ride each others horses…never thinking anything could happen, but Pal slipped and went down…the vet said he broke his neck. I was devastated…it was like a bad dream..a nightmare! I cried for days…weeks…months…I was sad, angry, and depressed. I vowed never to love a horse again. The girl didn’t get injured, (she was lucky), and she was very sorry, but I could not even look at her as it would remind me. I never set foot on the property again.

Lesson #3 – There are no guarantees in life.

I took a break from horses after that. I still loved them and continued to draw them in art class, but it wasn’t until I was 17 that I decided to finally get another. I think it was the trip to the Black Hills in South Dakota with my parents that finally helped to heal the pain of losing Pal. (I wasn't prepared for riding on this trip, no boots or jeans)

I was also interested in boys, and that took up most of my time. It would have been cool to find a boyfriend that also liked horses!

Although I wasn't really looking, a horse came along; a rescue from a sale some friends went to. The mare was destined for the ‘Fox Farm’. I was determined not to let this happen, so I bought her and boarded her in the neighborhood. She was pure black, quite thin, with a shaggy winter coat. I could tell she had potential as she had a good strong build with straight legs and kind eyes. I figured with a good worming and some groceries, she’d fill out in no time.

She soon shed her winter coat and filled out…she was looking good.

The photo to the right was taken 6 months after bringing her home!

Back in those days I never really had lessons…when the time was right, I just hopped on bareback and took my chances. I’ve been thrown a few times, and run away with too…. but I keep getting back on. Soon we were going on long trail rides.

After I got married, I kept Tami out at my in-laws farm. They had cows and they became pasture buddies. I was riding all through both pregnancies, not that the family wanted me to. I wasn’t worried; Tami and I understood each other. I was her person and she was my horse. Simple as that.

 To be continued…..

 
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