Studying to Learn or My Uncle Did Not Like Spurs

I came home from school, rather anxious to see how my uncle was coming along with a bay mare that we bought over the weekend.  It was a long way from the gate to the house, and I stopped for a glass of milk on my way out to the pens where I figured my uncle would be looking over the new member of our family.  I was really hoping that horse would become my horse, but there seemed to be some issues we were going to have to overcome before that happened.

I let the screen door slam as I went out the back door.  That back door was actually the entry to our kitchen.  It was used more than the front door, because all of the people that came to see us came in through the back door into the kitchen. It was just natural that way, because usually, we were all in that big old kitchen.

Anyway, when that screen door slammed, the activity kicked up a notch in the horse pen. I walked over and saw my uncle standing inside the pen, and that big, beautiful, bay mare taking a circle around the pen. She was snorting, kicking up her heels, just having a grand old time.

I asked my uncle what he was doing.  He said, “I am studying, and that is what you are supposed to be doing in the house. You have to study that homework.”  That was not really what I wanted to hear. But, I said I would if he would tell me what he was doing with the horse.  He said, “Like I told ya, I am studying this horse, and this horse is studying me. Do you see those scars on her belly about where your spurs would fit?” I did see the scars, and I told him, “I saw those yesterday and wondered what happened.” My uncle said, “I saw them yesterday too, and it caused me to take a look at the spurs that fellow selling the horse was wearing. Did you notice the rowels on the spurs were wired up so they wouldn’t roll?  That feller rode this mare with those awful spurs and scarred her up. Not only did they leave a scar, she has a memory of them.  She didn’t like it at all, and we are going to have to see if we can convince her that we won’t hurt her.  That is what I am studying, so you get to the house and study your homework.”

Off I went…my uncle stayed with that horse to well past my bedtime.

The next day, my uncle was back in the pen with that beautiful horse. She was a lot more calm when I accidentally let the screen door slam on my way to the pen. As a matter of fact, when I reached the pen, I realized that horse was eating oats out of my uncle’s hands.  I asked him, “How did you get that done.”  “I studied her, and she studied me” he replied. “She is beginning to figure out that I am not here to hurt her. And I think she likes me.  I have a name for her, and it is going to be Millie.  She has just been milling around here, calm and cool. We can’t call her milling, so we are going to call her Millie.”

The next thing I knew, Millie had a saddle on her, and my uncle was riding her around the pen.  He told me to get the gate open so he could take her out to the pasture and see how she does.  Off, they went.  Millie on a trot and then into a gallop just as easy as you please.  Mind you, Millie is only three years old. She stands right near fifteen hands. Her confirmation is really good, and she doesn’t mind showing she has powerful muscles.

My uncle came back to the pens a short time later.  Millie is taking a walk, looking over everything she will be in charge of, and that included me. She is well rested, not worn at all, so I ask, “Is Millie to where I can ride her now?”  He replied, “I think so. Just make sure you never use spurs on her, and she will do everything you ask of her.”

I had the most enjoyable ride imaginable.  And, I think Millie actually enjoyed it also.  We talked with each other a lot.  I would say something and she would shake her head up and down like she understood what I was saying.

When we made it back to the barn and pens, I brushed her really good, and of course she took the opportunity to roll in the dirt.  My uncle said she has found a good home. And even though the old horse trader said she was not broke, she was fun to ride. I asked, “What to you mean she was not broke.” He replied, “That old man told me he never got her out of the pen, she kept throwing him. He really needs to learn a lesson about those spurs he has don’t you think?  I want you to remember that we don’t “break” horses, we train them and they train us.  By studying, watching, learning we found a way to communicate with each other, and you see the result.”