Western lesson
As I sit to write my monthly column I can’t help but reflect on the enormity of what is happening in the world at the moment, and on how anxious it’s making all of us with our futures so uncertain.
In light of that, this is a ‘virus free’ column. I’ve decided instead to share with you one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences of a very different variety.
Last week while I was on holidays, I attended a two-day Western – as in cowboy – horsemanship clinic with American legend Pat Puckett.
I was apprehensive because I was the only non-western rider and very obviously so.
No cowboy hat, no cowboy saddle, no cowboy spurs and no cowboy ropes. I’ll admit, sitting on my 16.2-hand warmblood mare among 15-hand quarter horses, I was thinking this was going to be a one-day clinic for me.
For half of the first day, my horse and I were totally confused. I reminded myself how there was something to learn from everyone, even if it’s that they’re a fool, so I soldiered on.
As the fog lifted, I slowly concluded that I was privileged to be learning from the finest natural horseman I’d ever met. But better yet, a great storyteller. Let me share a few with you.
Puckett has been a rancher all his life and has always worked cattle on horseback. He now only has Huntaway working dogs.
When he rides into the mountains to muster cows and calves, he first finds a comfortable rock with a fine view, gets off his horse and commands his dog to bark for several minutes, with not a cow in sight.
He claims he waits for an hour, enjoying the solitude of just horse and dog while the cows seek out their calves in response to the barking.
He then commands the dog to start barking again, and slowly the cattle make their way out of the high country. ‘No galloping, no cracking of whips, no mis-mothering, just happy cattle quietly walking home with horse, rider and dog taking up the rear’.
Everything Puckett does is done slowly, calmly and with purpose. Even fooling others.
He had a nurse as a client who kept insisting he wear gloves when roping cattle. So he wised up the other cowboys to his plan. After roping a calf, he screamed and threw a rubber thumb he kept for such occasions and yelled, ‘Quick tie up the dogs, the calf has pulled off my thumb!’
The nurse raced to the rescue, scooping up the spare appendage. Puckett then held up both hands and everyone laughed. Except the nurse.
So, did an eventer-dressage rider learn anything from an old cowboy? Hell, yeah. Puckett chose to ride my horse for several hours and she’s a changed horse for the better. Couldn’t rope a calf off her, but our trust is at a new level.
But the most important lesson: to be a good horseman-cattleman, above all you need humility and respect for the animal.