Anyway, after this last post I got a few inquiries about my competing. I had on a whim thrown in some pictures of Brumby and I competing. This was VERY misleading. I did not so much compete in horse competitions, as show up to make sure no one else had to ever be last. But it made me remember one year when my friend roped me into entering a rodeo queen contest with her. And it was so hysterical. I don't know how I ever thought that a bumbling, green, shy farm girl was ever going to SUCCESSFULLY compete in a rodeo queen contest, but somehow I ended up in one. Remember Brumby, the spirited little Mustang? Well lets just say that Brumby was not horse show material. He was rough around the edges, hated doing obstacle courses and above all, was petrified of flags. And we all know flags are a big part of Rodeos.
I can't remember what my friend said to talk me into this, but she must have been quite the salesman because I decided that I did in fact want to be a rodeo queen. And even more shocking is that I somehow talked my folks into it! They HAD to have known what I would be up against. But I am a stubborn Swede and they can tell you (and my husband) that when I get my mind made up on something its awful hard to talk me out of it. Looking back I think my parents decided to let me go through with this to teach me a lesson.
First lesson. Taking a scared little mustang pony who is petrified of crowds, flags and lots of people, into a horse riding competing where most horses are bought for these girls by their daddys or grandpas for thousands and thousands of dollars and are professionally trained, was a very enlightening experience to be sure. Most of these glamorous cowgirls come from large wealthy ranches where the horses are broke, usually professionally, and are the equivalent of riding a well oiled machine that responds to every command. You've all seen these horses going through their paces, they do their patterns in the ring with their head at the properly elevated position, they change leads at the drop of a hat, they never toss their head, swish their tail or do so much as one naughty thing. They are machines.
Que Heather and Mustang. Brumby couldn't change a lead if he wanted, I had to hold him back so hard because he was so scared that his head was tucked into his chin like a lipanzzer, he hated going backwards, (part of the pattern) and our figure eights were more like a figure what the heck….The first thing that happened as we were heading into our 2nd figure eight is someone at the bucking chutes decided to move a flag and Brumby decided he wanted no part of this arena. (to my knowledge this poor cow pony had never even been in an arena) Remember how he spent most of his life in the badlands on a ranch herding cows or mustangs? Well in his lifetime he had leaned how to cut really good (I should have been in cutting horse competitions instead of rodeo queen ones) and usually he would do his cutting when we were herding cows and so I was expecting it. Well he took one look at that flag and he turned on a dime and headed right back for the gate. Problem is, I was totally focused on myself: keeping my carriage erect, my head level, and my face impassive (if you watch horse shows you know this look) and I was not expecting my horse to decide to exit the arena. So I promptly fell off into the dirt and my naughty horse left without me. There was a fiasco catching him as he was DONE with this whole show.
But here I am standing in the empty arena while all the judges, competitors, families, cute cowboys, and spectators are all looking on. It was humiliating and embarrassing to a teenage girl who had no idea what a fool she was going to actually look like out there. That was my first inkling that I was in way over my head. My next inkling was just based on appearance alone. I was using an old saddle that my dad had had forever,(i eventually saved up and bought a nicer one and it was such a prized possession that I still have it and Rye can't figure out why. I just cant bear to part with it.) I had no sequins, glitter or polish anywhere on my horse. He was just brushed and I made sure his mane wasn't in knots. Their horses were bathed, groomed, polished, braided, and shined like you can't believe. Not to mention the tack they had one, saddles alone worth more than both of my horses put together. Brumby and I didn't realize all that we were missing out on in our ignorance.
And then the girls themselves. (lesson 2) Fancy jeans, shiny sequined shirts that dazzled in the sunlight, long curled hair, fancy expensive cowgirl hats, rhinestones everywhere, belt buckles bigger than my head, jeans tighter than my skin, and lots and lots and lots of makeup. And here I am in my old wrangler jeans, hand me down clothes and boots, and not a sequin or rhinestone to be found. My mom probably tried to curl my hair but I would have brushed her aside as I hated having my hair done. No makeup, (also no time for that) nothing fancier that a Montana Silversmith Belt Buckle with a horse on it that I had saved for months to buy. And I thought it was so big and fancy and it looked like a a penny compared to those girls. These girls made a living out of doing this, they were practiced, poised and groomed better that the queen of England. And snottier than all get out. They definitely looked down on us (my friend fared slightly better than me, but she was a real genuine cowgirl) and I was in no way prepared to deal with the likes of them.
So then there was a part of the competition where you have to model and the do a speech and answer some questions. So basically you walk this catwalk, which was a dirt aisle in a tent, and then go on the stage and introduce yourself, your likes and etc, and then introduce your family. I had been practicing for weeks and when I would practice I would use my hand curled in a fist as my microphone. I guess I assumed there would be one.
So the first thing that happens when I'm called up, is that I walk into a tent pole. I had my head somewhat down watching my feet so I wouldn't trip and so my cowboy hat covered my upwards vision and I smacked right into the pole. My brothers immediently start tittering in the audience. (and i had a red goosegg on my forehead) Then I get on stage and there is no microphone but my brain can't process that so I stand and give my short shaky speech while using my hand as a mic the entire time. More tittering. Then I realize what I'm doing and drop my hand but was so rattled by this, that when I went into the audience to introduce my family I actually introduced my brother Bryce as the wrong person. I pointed out my brothers friend and made him stand up. I was so uncomfortable and rattled by the whole procedure that I was scarred for life I think. Looking back my parents must have been so embarrassed of me next to all these shiny poised beautiful cowgirls, but they never let on. They clapped and cheered loudly for me and were really my only supporters.
I left that competition knowing that neither Brumby or I would need to ever be in a rodeo competition again and we were much more content at home on the fields racing Blue. Where we belonged. I never was, nor ever will be, a fancy person. I hardly do my hair or wear make up to this day. Its just such a huge waste of time and we can spend so much time putting on our face that we forget what we really look like. I have friends who have no idea what their natural hair color is as an adult. This floors me. They have dyed and highlighted it their whole life. I have nothing against this but the fact that it takes so much maintenance. When we were in Vegas I was stopped at a kiosk (this is nothing new) and a lady was trying to sell me clip in extensions. They first thing she said was that she could tell that I never had dyed my hair and it was a 'natural' color. Which apparently equates to 'mousy brown' after further questioning. Well I would rather have mousy brown hair than her super dyed fake red hair. So there. ;) I totally would have bought those extensions if Rye wouldn't have been with me though. And I would have put them in a drawer to never use again, but they were pretty cool. Thanks to Rye again.
Anyway, the wind was taken out of my sails when it came to ever competing again. But after a year or two I decided to enter some of the shows at the local fair. I am a glutton for punishment. I was up against the same thing. Spoiled, primped, rich girls on horses that cost as much as a new tractor, with Daddys who made a passion out of hauling their baby girls around to competitions in horse trailers nicer than our house. (I'm getting carried away, i know) They take this all very serious and invest a LOT of money into it all. And once again I am on a cow pony with a fussy disposition about these sorts of things, and am still as horrid at these reining competitions as I always was. I didn't fall off and I had my horse bathed at least but I was still ALWAYS last in every competition. And my Dad was always working so hard haying or harvesting at fair time that I was lucky to get him to haul us into the fair. He never missed a show though, despite all the hay waiting to be put up at home. Did they ever have that feeling of pride as they watched their daughter make a fool out of herself time and time again? I hope they did because I never let those girls get to me, and I always got back up after I fell. And I enjoyed every minute of those fair shows. Thankfully we always did pretty good with our steers and sheep and that helped boost the spirits a bit.
In fact the first year I decided to show cattle, I opted to take a heifer as I knew how hard it would be to send a steer off to the butchering block. (i spent all the subsequent years showing steers for more money and bawling my head off for days after they were sent off to butcher) She was a good little heifer that I named Elaine, and I had her pretty tame by the time fair time came around. But as many of you know, they can be great at home in their comfort zone, but you get them to the crazy, noisy fair where there's rides and people and noise, and they can go crazy. So my very first show with Elaine, she ended up going crazy in the ring with the other heifers and drug me all over the arena. I mean seriously drug me with me hanging on for dear life. She finally got away and the judges had to catch her while I was trying to get the dirt off my face enough to see. I was so hurt, embarrassed and scared that I promptly marched right out of there in tears. My dad caught me at the gate, wiped the tears off my dirty face and sent me back in there. I'm not sure how, I guess he really had a way with me. But I grabbed Elaine and finished the show with her, fighting tears the whole way. And you know what? I won Reserve Grand Champion Showman with her. That award, for you unfamiliar with this, is the award based on how you showed your animal. Not based on the looks of the animal, but based on how well you and the animal did together in the ring. Did you keep eye contact with the judge? Did you keep your animals feet placed, was she clean and well groomed, did she respond to your commands, did she lead well etc. etc. I was so flummoxed that I won (everyone else was too) because I pretty much bombed most of that, but I did give it my best try. And after Elaine drug me all over the place, she decided she felt bad and behaved quite nicely the rest of the show. But when the judge came to give my my ribbon he asked me if I knew why I was getting it. I shake my head no as more dirt falls off me and then he kindly tells me "you are getting this ribbon because you came back in this ring to finish the show even after it was the last thing you wanted to do. And I admire your bravery and tenacity very much and that you did the right thing and dried those tears off and finished the show." (I can't remember the words exactly but that was pretty much the extent of it, he went on about it for while but you get the drift)
I wonder if he knew I would have been hiding in the girls bathroom if not for my dad. Isn't it awesome that we have parents that help us when we fall, encourage us to get back on the horse, and have faith in us. Thats what I love about being a parent. We get to help them through all these little struggles when they are young so that when they get older they are ready for the rat race. I'm pretty thankful for parents who were there every step of the way cheering us on in the background making us feel like we can do anything. They supported my crazy dreams with these horses and did everything possible to help them come true, despite many obstacles. I hope I can do this for my kids. Not always convenient or cheap to help them follow their dreams but by gum nothing will stop us. And sometimes life is gonna drag us down and kick our butt but we get back up and face the battles. And eventually we can win and we can learn from it.
Anyhoo, I kept coming back year after year with my little Mustang and year after year I would come in last. I came to just expect it and stop hoping for more. By the time I was a junior/senior in school I had been working with a local horse trainer for a few years during the summer. She had an interesting job. She had moved to ND from back east because we had so many pheasants. And she trained hunting dogs for millionaires back east to compete with them in field trials. I've never been to a field trial and its something we didn't have in the west, but apparently it was a big deal back there. It was a hunt done off horseback and involved a lot of hunting dogs. So these people would pay her a TON of money to train their dogs for the summer. I was her helper and we usually had a kennel of about 30 dogs and quite a few horses. She also trained the horses for it too and they were HIGHLY sought after also.
I learned more in the 4 years working for her, than I could even begin to describe. From sacking out horses, to training dogs to point using pigeons, to chasing dogs all over the CRP fields of ND and I loved every minute of it. (Except cleaning up all the poop of 30 dogs) We would start by line training them. We would clip all the dogs into a chain line in the ground and then we would grab a pigeon and shake its head around over and over until it was too dizzy to fly. Imaging doing a job in high school where you shake pigeons heads around until they go into a stupor, I'm guessing theres not many of those jobs out there. Then we would hide it in the ground and she would take each dog out and have them smell it and then point. Eventually the dizziness would wear off and the bird would take off. (not far, it was tethered) It was so fun and interesting and I learned so much about training animals from her. She was highly sought after and had many many awards and accolades to her name including being the grand champion barrel racer in her younger days. I'll stop here as I'm getting side tracked again. She's always been one of my heroes so I could write a whole chapter on her.
So one year she decides to let me take one of her highly trained horses to the fair, Big Red. Big Red, was huge, so huge she had him trained to stoop down to let me get on him, and he was amazing. To this day he is still the most fantastic horse I've ever been on.(I'm sorry Brumby and Shiem) Gentle and yet able to chase down the fastest english pointer on the place. Once we let the dogs loose in the CRP, they were so hyper and out of control that we could have never chased them down even with the 4 wheelers. But the horses could. So she would leave a big lead rope on them and then when Red would chase them down he was trained to step on the lead rope and trip them up. Then he would stay stepped on the rope until I could dismount and grab the dog. The dogs could run under him, around him, and even over him (happened one time) and he would calmly stand there as he's getting wrapped into knots with this rope as the dogs goes ballistic. There wasnt anything he couldn't handle. And it was such a rush to ride him in a flat out run chasing dogs down going through all sorts of crazy terrain following the whims of these dogs and where the scents were leading them. Not running a straight line, thats for sure. I was usually treated to my own personal rodeo too because even though I was always put on trusty old Red, she was riding a horse that was at some level of training and they were usually freaking out about a dog wrapping a rope in knots around their back leg. She would be duking it out with a freaked out horse and I would be so enthralled watching her win (every time) that I almost forgot about my own circus dog. She didn't always win though, a few years before I met her she spent many months in a hospital fighting for her life after a bad horse wreck. But man I loved Red, I even rode him in the parade one year because of his unflappable nature.
So she let me take him to the fair one of my last years and it was amazing. He was the most trained and well behaved horse there. This was a huge novelty for me. I didn't have to brace myself for Brumby spooking at every flag and noise. And that year I actually came in second. There was still some of those pro girls there and they must have been slightly more glamourous in looks, because there isn't a horse alive who could have beat Big Red at anything. Seriously. Alas, Big Red died a few years after I left home and thats left a tiny little hole in my heart ever since. He was a Missouri Fox Trotter and riding him was like sitting in your favorite rocking chair. Course she had him trained in all his gaits and lead changes and he was spectacular. I never heard what her trained horses sell for but I know in a million years I could never afford a horse like him. How lucky was I to get to ride him every day and eventually show him. The only ones I know who could ever afford her horses or dogs were the rich millionaires back east. They would come out every once in awhile to the Wild West as they saw it, and would go with us into the CRP. Thats made for quite a few funny stories that I won't get into now.
So I did not mean to mislead anyone in my last post. I was not a horse showman. I never won anything ever, and as much as I loved my little wild mustang, he wouldn't have won any awards either. But I loved his grand little heart. I didn't blame him for being wary and scared of all the bling and dazzle of those shows, I would have been more worried if he wasn't scared. That would have meant he was one of those 'well trained' horses that probably have never been run in their life. I did console myself with the fact that a lot of these girls weren't even comfortable riding out of an arena. We weren't comfortable in the confines of one and they weren't comfortable without the security of one. They never raced their highly priced horses across the fields of grass, they never got the thrill of being bucked off a green broke horse, they never had the thrill of stayin on a bucking or rearing horse, and so they missed out. Those horses were probably quite boring and dull. Thats what I told myself anyway. ;-)
I'm not sure how much these girls bonded with their horses anyway. I saw them time and time again get out of the arena, hand the reins to daddy or the hired hand, and flounce off to be with their friends at the ice cream booth. I was one of the only ones who ever took care of my horse because I wanted too. And he wanted me too. (and plus I hadn't figured out how to flounce yet despite my best attempts) We were a team. I got any help I needed, but Brumby and I were such a great team that we were pretty independent. I am also generalizing here with these girls. There were other poor girls out there like me just chasing their dreams making do with the best they had. My friend I did this with, was one. She was much more experienced in reining and shows than me though and had a pretty good horse for it although he was by no means a high dollar one. But the ones who always won were the girls I'm talking about.
I'm not sure how this post got so away from me. I obviously have some pent up bitterness towards these pretty glamourous girls with the money to buy fancy horses. And make no mistake, its the horses winning these things, not the girls on them. Almost anyone can ride these expensive well trained horses, with just a little practice under their belt. In fact its really a competetion about who has the most money to spend on horses. Or really the trainers should get the credit. All of us girls could ride, that wasn't the issue. But it was still fun and we looked forward to our little fair every year. It really didn't matter who won, its all just about the journey anyway. Or I wouldn't have been back year after year. I often applaud the patience my parents had to haul us all over to all these things and spend umpteen hours every year helping us ready all our animals for show.
And I am only referring to the rodeo queen competitions here, or reining sports where a horse follows a predetermined set of patterns. And they vary so little that most trained horses can do them in their sleep and need very little help from their masters. All other events like barrel racing, roping, the bucking events and such require crazy riding skills and are nothing at all like the above mentioned events. They really are competitions of riding skill! Like I said, I wasn't totally the loser, we always did really well with our sheep especially. It wasn't very often that our sheep didn't clean out the competition. But we did have a lot of sheep to choose from and it was our living so to speak and not some little hobby farm operation. That helped I think.
So it took me another novel to explain that I'm really not an expert horse person. Far from it. We just had a lot of fun on our ranch horses, and although they couldn't change leads or back up without tossing their head and swishing their tail, they were fast and spunky and ready for anything. I wouldn't have traded them for all the expensive quarter horses out there. They had heart. And they provided a lifetime of great memories. Obviously.
And I learned that not everything that glitters is gold. Its really whats on the inside. The heart and soul that I gave to chase these horse dreams. I gave it everything and for many of these girls it was just a passing hobby to fill some time and get to look glamorous while doing it. For me, horses were my life. I spent every day with them, I dreamt about them, I pretty much obsessed about them for most of my youth. It didn't matter that I didn't have the sequins and the fancy horses with fancy trailers to haul them in. I had a horse with more heart and spunk than almost any I came across. And he was a wild mustang in the badlands for many years before he was caught and I loved that about him. It made him the horse he was. Check out the Facebook page " Wild in North Dakota" to see where he came from.
True of people too. Often we can judge a book by the cover and make instant passing judgments. But when we get to know people and look past any outside barriers we can be pleasantly surprised. Some of the prettiest people that Ive known in my life have also been the shallowest, most boring, self centered people Ive ever been around. And some of the quirkiest, craziest looking people have been my very favorites with hearts of gold.
Not long after my youthful queen experience I heard this song on the radio and have loved it ever since. Course I had a crush on Dan Seals which helped. (and I still love his music) I just watched this video on you tube (never seen the video version) and I sat there an bawled. Click on the link below to get there. Song brought back a lot of memories for me! Love the song though. Ive also dug up some more outdated pictures.
Everything That Glitters by Dan Seal
Elaine and I shortly before she drug me around.
Here is my bookcase in our living room that holds the hardcover books. I have this many or more soft cover books in boxes. Plus my ibook library is getting ridiculous too. I am serious about books. Books rock. Read.
