The culture of horsemen and their horses has evolved for at least ten thousand years. There have been many great horse cultures during those years and each has added techniques and borrowed from other horse cultures. The great cavalries of antiquity traveled and absorbed information from other regions and cultures: the horseman has always been quick to observe new techniques and adopt them to his own program.
Thus the technologies of horsemanship have been borrowed and improved upon for eons; whether a particular technique came from the Cossacks of the Steppes, the Mongol Hordes, the cavalry of the Macedonians, the mounted legions of Rome, the Bedouins of the Desert, the cavalries of the Napoleonic era, the cavaliers like Stuart or Forrest, or the mounted warriors of the plains we can at best only guess.
As a horseman who has been fortunate enough to travel and observe horsemen in many different parts of the world, I have enjoyed watching skilled horsemen employ their skills and abilities. Of course we in North America are often inclined to make a mockery of the past while promoting and admiring tricksters and charlatans with a few horse skills, charisma and the verbal skills of a used car salesmen. With self-promoting books and movies they glamorize themselves while prostituting the richness and true nature of the horsemen of antiquity, the men who lived life with the cunning and quick responses of the horse rather than the, oh so much slower, thoughts and movements of normal men. Sadly, our well intentioned and naïve horse public is quick to adopt heroes from a sense of their own inadequacy; they admire and argue over who the best horse guru is and who you should spend our money on to hear a few words of dubious horse wisdom. The gullibility of the American public is as funny as it is tragic. In the tradition of the old horsemen, you learned through observation and a few instructions: not by writing checks and being told, “You will get it, just keep emulating me and writing those checks, and you need my new CD” have faith, in time you will be just like me. The old time horsemen would be amazed at the gullibility of the public to follow such a frauds.
Some of the best ‘old time horsemen’ I have observed were on the ranches of Northern BC. They didn’t need an adoring or fawning fan base to show off a certain level of mediocrity to people of limited experience and intellect. These ‘old time horsemen’ plied their skills with a quiet dedication and skill level that would boor the novice that worships the modern day huckster; but the true horseman would be watching with concentration, the same concentration that ancient horsemen used when observing horsemen from other cultures perform their skills.
The most unique of all the horsemanship skill that I have observed were those of the men who castrated the horses; without a doubt, they and their team of ropers were among the most unique horsemen, I have ever observed.
In Northern BC, there was usually a man who castrated all the colts within a radius of a hundred miles more or less. These were men who had perfected a skill over decades and were skilled and efficient. Most cowboys can castrate young bulls; but horses are a different deal, partly from the difference in numbers I suppose. It was always a festive time and I was usually on hand to trim hooves and to pull impacted baby teeth and give the colts a float ( a grinding or smoothing out the sharp edges of the molars).
The fall event was always held after the weather had turned cool to keep flies out of the castration wound served as a social event and barbecue. There were plenty of Oysters and several different types of ranch beans along with many dishes put together by ranch wives. Great food and a few beers topped off a hard day along with the country musicians playing the old celtic tunes that came directly from Ireland and Scotland.
There would usually be between 60 and a hundred colts to do a day, so the festivities would start before the sun was up and be over at sundown.
The ranchers would run in 5 or 6 colts into an arena; they would range in age from one to five years of age, there were usually four men in the arena on foot. The two main ropers would, throw their first loops around the neck and then the front fetlocks or ankles were secured with those ropes and one of them was brought up high so that the colt was now on three legs. The hind fetlocks were then roped and secured to the neck ropes so that the ropes could function as pulleys. The colt was then made to lunge forward and all three fetlocks were brought up under him at the same time and down he went on his chest and belly with all four legs underneath him.
The man with the knife quickly slipped behind the colt while the bucket man held the tail with one hand and carry the bucket of fresh oysters and the bucket of disinfectant in the other; The knife man made his incisions and the horse was soon castrated; the fresh oysters were dropped into their bucket and they would soon be washed and marinated in balsamic vinegar for an hour or so, they would then be patted with a mixture of spices and be ready to barbecue later in the day. The castration procedure took between five and ten minutes, from the time the first loop was thrown until the knots were released; preparing the oysters for dinner required considerably more time.
After the three or four were cut, they would run that group into my corral. I’d have a holder and he would put a loop on one and I would usually trim his feet, pull impacted baby teeth and wolf teeth and grind the molars so that they could utilize their feed over the winter and accept the snaffle more comfortably. The colts were usually subdued after the castration and most were easy to work with, it they were scared or too wild, I would call for some help from another man with a rope. Not all the ranchers wanted me to trim and float, because they could manage the job themselves; but many wanted me to get them through the first session as easily as possible.
Now that I live in the states and watch the care and handling of colts and the castration procedure regarded as if it were similar to heart surgery by the horse owners and doctors, I think back to those old horsemen from days gone by and become nostalgic. These were men with the bark on; men who knew no fear and who were extremely competent at their jobs.
The fear factor was a major factor, for if a human shows fear or aggression to a horse, you have had the biscuit (as in the Last Supper); you may get the job done, but you are going to take risks that are unnecessary and often leave a horse with a mistrust of humans. Horses and men respect people who can accomplish their work in a calm, calculated, and methodical method. This work was performed on young stallions, many of them who had not been started in the training process and many who had already outrun the Grizzly, mountain lion, and wolf; yet, the demeanor of the cowboys allowed the process to proceed with a minimum of effort, by projecting a calmness and confidence to the horses.
The lessons learned from old time cowboys serve well in the arenas of business and world politics today. Incompetence or fear will be seized upon by opponents and exploited in an effort to resist and sometimes to kill you. Hesitation and indecision are seen as weakness; weakness is seen as fear: to a wild young stallion, a homicidal maniac, a ruthless despot or an international terrorist, the reaction is predictable; there is an inherent weakness that can be exploited and though wild horses are dangerous, most of their reaction is a form of self-preservation through striking out and escape, the monsters of the world only want to kill and destroy.
One of the biggest problems I have found in my career as a professional horseman is the horse’s aberrant behavior to the human who seeks to anthropomorphize their horses rather than treating them with the dignity of a horse. Just as treating a criminal monster with an overly humanistic approach will end up in disaster. At least once a week, I must ask an owner to step back and be quiet because their presence, their overly affectionate gestures, and their voice is causing the horse to react in a negative manner that is putting me and the horse in danger.
Once the owner steps back and assumes a neutral position and the horse is allowed to concentrate on me, I can accomplish my work with a minimum of effort and resistance.
The owner is usually incensed that I ask them to stand back and many will never call me again; but in this case the owner is the malfunction not the horse. Presently, we have our military in Harm’s way and our President is the malfunction; while sending signal of weakness, cowardice, capitulation, and a lack of resolve. His attitudes and reckless foreign policy, a strategy that was a pipe dream of the Leftist Flower Children of the 60′s, leaves our troops vulnerable to the enemy and compromises the mission while prolonging the war.
Since President Obama has assumed power, he has offered the hand of friendship to tyrants and international criminals, while offering signals of subservience to dictators and Communists; most of them laugh at him and consider him to be a naïve fool, while they conduct their aggression and deceit with virtual impunity, they wait to seize the initiative while working his approach to their advantage.
Oh to think back to those fearless cowboys who walked in the arena with only their ropes and how they performed their job with a silent dedication and professionalism; how I miss those days, those days with men for leaders, men like Ronald Reagan. He may not have been a real cowboy; but he was close enough.
Obama isn’t simply the personification of weakness. He’s simultaneously the snake-oil salesman who lauds weakness as a virtue, vilifying and demonizing those of us who still have the bark on. As you suggest, from the 60′s there’s been a ramped-up effort to pretend strength is something to be ashamed of.
Ronald Reagan may have been more of a movie cowboy than a ranch cowboy, but he was a leader of men. One who never felt the need to apologize for being strong.
SKOOKUM:hi, Ican see that precious story in your future book,along with the others best sellers to be;storys. i should say as you probably know that you could get your book first digital;a fews weeks ago i bought one book that was only digital and that was the first time for me to buy a book;so thinking that it was going to be a real book;i was disapointed but then,i printed it,179 pages of it;it was my first knowledge of digital book;but last week, : i bought ARCHER52 book the REVOLT;and for my taste i prefer a real book,the revolt had a very nice cover; realy i can’t wait to see the cover of your’s: bye
Jeff you have expressed yourself well; I wish I could have read your comment before I published the story, it would have helped me tie it all together, especially your last lines. It was a hard story to write; I try not to offend people who have no idea of the old ways, back before meat was wrapped in cellophane. A helpful post! Thank you!
Bees, I am sure most of us prefer the traditional books. I will need to check out all the options.
It will take a while to go back through all these stories and edit all the typos and grammatical errors I have accumulated. I out did myself with this one, how embarrassing! I don’t want you to think I will let you get away with such sloppiness! It is inexcusable. I’d ask you to try harder, but it was me, only me. I can only blame myself.
In the book, I plan to have humorous stories that have no relationship to politics, so there will be new material. It will be a long haul to put it together; but I have an excellent start.
These days many people have horses as pets, and just like the city folk who have a cat or a dog, they treat these “pets” as if they were human, “My baby” they say to their pets. They have supplanted and thwarted their instinct to procreate with these “pets”‘ as their virtual children. Thus becoming genetic dead ends.Two generations have been lost in America through Radical feminism that teaches women to avoid having children of their own. So they get “pets” instead and live alone to become lonely old spinsters,while America gets over-run with illegals who take the place of all the never- born children here in America. Great and illustrative story Skookum! Thank you.
BLOGFORCE:that is quite strong and true;it makes me visualyse ‘an old huge TREE of many hundreds of years,which has lost somes big roots and is starting to sway when the strongs winds blows,and is missings it’s water to sustain his life;wounded he is deeply. bye
Blogforce, your commentary is an intriguing factor that could have made the subject of this essay into a book. I live this situation you describe through hundreds of customers, not all by any means, but way too many. It’s great when you guys cause the author to rethink his premise, thanks for the input.
The intellect and wit on this blog is one of the main reasons I camp here.
Skookum, my apologies. My original comment got clip’d and abbreviated due to the excitability of one of those metaphorical “horses tied on the perimeter of camp” who needed some reassurance and attention. I didn’t mean to sound like I was correcting your premise, but was trying to show agreement.
The allusion to camping is a pleasant one. I think of your stories and the comments that follow much like a campsite…a very welcome respite after a long and enjoyable ride.
I long for those days of sharing real campsites with real men like Skookum, framming out tunes on a flat-top, passing a Mason jar of clear nectar, telling the occasional big tale, and reflecting on how, but for the hardness of our bark, very nearly witnessed the demise of Liberty.
Keep those great stories coming, Skookum.
-Jeff
@Skookum
Just as there are professional horsemen… there are professional editors… pointing out the spelling errors and grammatical infractions is what they do… and they do it well. Concentrate on the meat and leave the trimmings to the professional editor.
On a side note… if I had to list the top 10 inventions in history, I think the stirrup would make the list.
@Blogforce… my wife has a pet… now if she’d just get me a flea collar.
Not at all Jeff, I appreciated your post and meant every word I said. Your lines were inspiring and said more in a few words than I brought across in multiple paragraphs. You employ excellent imagery again in your second post, perhaps you have a second career ahead of you. Best be thinking about that in these troubled times.
Donald, it is reassuring to know that you are being well cared for; it is so sad to think of all those poor creatures in the humane shelters. Remember to always be obedient, cheerful, and attentive; and you will always have a home.
@Skookum… now if she’d only let me sleep on the bed. This pad in the laundry room isn’t really up to my standards. And the rolled up newspaper when I’m on the sofa has become annoying.
Oh yeah… thanks again for another great tale.
Whining while you sit up and beg, offering a paw to shake, and resting your head on her knee and looking up at her eyes with a pathetic soul searching look, while she watches Oprah often helps in these difficult situations. With a little bit of work, it sounds like you could have a perfect relationship.
Maybe I could write a dear Skook advice column for pets.
DONALD BLY: first you have to search withig your soul;what did i do or said or where did i look or what did i write or what did i not do,or not said not look where or not write ?that will tell you how long you will have to sleep in there;i urge you to make yourself confortable. bye
SKOOKUM how many times did you used that tactic to win?.that tell me that you could be a very important leader at the WHITE HOUSE;SO MUCH TALENT WAISTED ON THIS BLOG;when we could solved so many problems “on top of the HILLS.
Skookum for President…
@ Bees… deep soul searching will be difficult… but I have the pathetic down pat. Will someone please change the fabric softener sheet?
Thank you Skookum, I have been complaining I need to get back into riding more since I have let my job and personal life eat up my real enjoyment. Looks like I have to go and brake the two horses who haven’t been ridden in over 2 years.
Aleric, a word of caution, many of us are advancing in years and it is preferable to the alternative: the strangest thing happened to me at 60, I found had snow on the roof year round. The realization that I had aged set in like an anvil dropped on my little toe; consequently we must make allowances for this frightful fact of life called age.
During my younger years, pre 60, I liked my horses and women with a wildness of spirit and fire in their eyes; now I can appreciate a smooth ride with cadence and dependability rather than worrying over the prospect of being bucked off or having a wild one rear up with you and walking around, or worse, falling over backwards. Thus we should know our capabilities and limitations, to keep from over matching ourselves.
Churchill said that time spent on a horse is never wasted and I have contemplated many of life’s mysteries while riding; but we are depending on every Conservative this November and we are especially counting on you!
Get some solid time in the saddle before climbing on the wild ones!
HI SKOOKUM: on number 9,i want you to know,if i can help on the spelling errors and grammatical infractions
,be my guest ,i sure will any time .bye 
Getting old isn’t for the young that’s for sure.
I now get more than just saddle sores. But as one old gentleman put it,”That’s life”.
Still Mounted
Laramie
@ Laramie: Someone said youth is wasted on the young, the older I become, the more I tend to agree. Congratulations on staying mounted, that is life! I hope to retire in a few years and disappear in the Northern Rockies and if I die like my friend Johnny(A Matter of Honor) anytime after that, life wont owe me a thing. Keep the faith my friend!