Okay, Listen Here

Okay, Listen Here

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

The Great Escape


Everyone seems to love the “boys” on this blog. No, they aren't a group of Hollywood hunks with delineated pecs and abs, sweat-slick skin and chiseled faces. For those of you who are new to the blog, I'm writing about the boys who work with my horses at the barn. They are in their early twenties, going to college (doing well with their studies) and trying very hard to stay out of my way and off my radar. They’re good kids but sometimes I have some doubts about whether their mothers dropped them one too many times when they were babies.

Back in the fall I left to go eat lunch with some friends and returned later in the afternoon. As I was coming up the long driveway to my house, I noticed that Sugar (my 30 year-old palomino quarter horse) was munching grass in my front yard – outside of the fence. I immediately backed up, locked the front gate and called the barn. I managed, over the twanging of some pretty loud country music, to convey the message that A HORSE IS LOOSE. I parked the car and tried to get Sugar to understand that she needed to come with me. Now that is another tale altogether – horses don’t listen and they certainly don’t do what you want when there is thick fescue involved. I don’t put halters on the pasture horses because there are too many dangers involved, like getting hung on objects and breaking their necks. There was no way for me to catch her and, standing there in my good clothes, all I could do was wait patiently for the boys to get there.

I heard the four-wheeler crank up and there they came, one riding shotgun behind the other, exploding from the barn in all their mechanized glory. Why they always need the four-wheeler constantly escapes me. Can’t they just walk the few hundred feet instead of involving some internal combustion engine? Nothing on this place can be done unless it involves machinery, at least that’s what the boys think. The boy riding shotgun held a halter in his hand and was already waving it at Sugar as they came barreling down the hill from the barn. I wanted to tell them that noise from the four-wheeler combined with waving and shouting at the horse wouldn’t help the situation but I remained silent, not wishing to contribute to the cacophony or disabuse them of their idea of being able to sneak up on a horse over the roar of the engine. Sugar continued munching grass, one eye on the boys, until they got near her. As soon as they came within a few feet of her, she tossed her head and ran. Now, I could have told them that she would do that but what was the point. I gave them the cut engine sign, i.e. swiping my hand across my throat, and proceeded to tell them to get off the four-wheeler. Both of them crawled off the monster and gave me their patented deer-in-the-headlight looks. I was informed that all the horses knew the sound of the four-wheeler and they had no idea the horse would run. Yeah, right, I gave them my patented you’re-brain-damaged look and told them to catch the horse – on foot. I heard grumbling but they went after the horse, sending longing looks at their four-wheeled steed. I stood for about fifteen minutes watching them creep up on Sugar only to have her toss her head, give them a jeer and run to the other end of the yard. After a while it became clear to me that this was becoming a game to her. Let them get just close enough then RUN. In my high-heels, I wobbled down to the quarter horse barn, grabbed a bucket, filled it with sweet feed and wobbled back to where Sugar was cornered by the fence. She was weighing her options – run over the boys who had her trapped or run over the boys who had her trapped. I seemed to be the only one aware of Sugar’s plan because the boys continued to approach the twelve-hundred pound horse, oblivious. Seeing disaster in the making and a trip to the emergency room, I yelled at the boys to back off and proceeded to shake the bucket. Sugar cocked her head and immediately came to the bucket. As she was eating, I held out my hand for the rope, slipped it over her head and then slipped the halter on her when I could get her head out of the bucket.

The boys, grinning because they didn’t have to run any more, took possession of the horse. “But Miss Cheryl, we didn’t know she’d come to the feed” was the first comment I got from them. I gave them the you’re-brain-damaged look and wobbled back to my car. Sugar, who has been known to kill for sweet feed, gave me a look over the shoulders of the boys that said “yeah, they are stupid but fun.”



Can someone out there explain to me why men and boys have to use internal combustion engines with everything they do? I would really like to know. No work can be accomplished unless diesel or gas is involved. And yeah, even though I have been married for nearly 32 years, they still call me “Miss Cheryl.”

10 comments:

  1. It's a mystery. When the cows get out, the guys are on their utility vehicles chasing them, and yeah, they'll get some of the cows back into the pasture because they do at least use the feed-in-a-bucket ploy, too. But there are always a few cows who resist the feed, because they'd rather have the fresh grass. After about half an hour of listening to them cuss and drive in never-ending circles trying to get the cows headed into the gate, I get the broom and walk out there, and presto-bingo the cows are soon swept inside the pasture. It's something about the broom that gets them, maybe because they see the utilities all the time and don't give a rat's patootie about them. But I'm on foot, with a broom, and whenever one starts to make a break for it I simply wave the broom at her and she heads back the other way. It works.

    Do the guys learn from example? Not. Guess it's not manly to herd cows with a broom.

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  2. Maven Linda, a broom? I will have to use that the next time. Sugar is a food glutton. One time, before I instituted death if the door is left open, she broke into the feed room. The crazy horse ate nearly a hundred pounds of feed. Never got sick which left the vet scratching his head. The boys wouldn't think it was manly to use a broom either. We women seem to have more sense when it comes to the animals. Hey, wait, we just have more sense period.

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  3. Wow! I learn so much from your barn & boys stories, Cheryl! Makes me grateful I don't have to deal with these problems, but I love horses. They're such beautiful animals. ;)

    Modern day cowboys sure don't use their horse sense. Lol!

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    1. Sense is not in their vocabulary. I worry sometimes. I am on constant vigil around here. I only have to look out the window to get my rush of adrenalin for the day - usually supplied by the boys and involving some piece of machinery.

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  4. I am not sure why most men seem to think that if there are engines involved that it better. Maybe that seems more manly to them!

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  5. Aye, it's manly; especially when you are sitting in the emergency room. I have to say, it's okay to use the machine but just not without that horse sense that Kathy mentioned. LOL

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  6. Well, even though I grew up around horses and cows, I admit that their beauty is about all I remember anymore...except for the feed trick. That works with cats too, by the way. So does the broom! And it's really quite satisfying to break up a cat fight with a broom and watch them retreat with respect to the stick! lol

    But the machinery thing? At my house if it's not computerized, we must make it computerized to give it value! And my mantra is.....when your computer breaks, call me. I still know how to use a #2 pencil and lick a stamp! I've been found to utilize these skills many times. It drives my honey cRaZy! It makes me giggle! Tehe....

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    1. Cats and fighting. I have been going through that lately. Seems one of the new ones is intensely hated by my beloved Scrappy Cat (he got his name from hanging on the nose of the mule - pretty scrappy). I have filled a water bottle with water and have been known to chase them through the house spraying everything in sight. Maybe I should consider the broom; my hardwood floors would appreciate it..

      Computers hate me and, well, I kinda return the feeling. Glad you can keep a good sense of humor about it Leisha. I just want to throw the dang thing out the window. And I too can still use that pencil. We'll be set when everything crashes. LOL.

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  7. Why use common sense when you can make noise and have more power. That's it.

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  8. Power and noise - two irresistible things to men. You are so right Jean. Common sense is not in the equation.

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