A Penny for Your Thoughts: A Horse Tale

Lisa on Penny and me on the ground - where I belong!

A Penny for your thoughts. Really, Penny was in my thoughts Tuesday evening as a couple of cowboys came to help us round up a bull.

I've never been a horse person. I didn't go through the preteen fascination that seems to afflict a bevy of girls, including my sister, Lisa, who had a horse named Penny. I left the fancy fringed shirt and cowboy boots to Lisa and her 4-H project. I was much more inclined to have both feet planted firmly on the ground. Give me a foods project or the reading project - both decidedly indoor activities - and I was much happier. I even liked working on 4-H books. (I know I am an anomaly, but I've always liked the art of telling a story.)

We typically use what Randy calls "Japanese horses" for our cattle roundups. But we've attempted on more than one occasion this summer to round up a bull who decided the neighboring pasture looked better than the one he was supposed to occupy. The Kawasakis just weren't doing the job this time. Every time we'd get there, Mr. Bull would hide in plum thickets.

A neighbor recommended a freelance cowboy who had helped him with a similar predicament. Cory's business card reads, "I don't turn wrenches and I don't build fences!"

He and his friend, Tyler, didn't have time until evening, so we were dodging raindrops and nervously watching lightning streak across the sky as the cowboys unloaded their horses - Darlin' and Marly - and took off across the pasture in search of Mr. Bull.

 

We parked the pickup and trailer on top of a hill so we could watch the cowboy's progress and bring in cattle panels if the job required it.

Have you ever heard the song, "The Cowboys Lament?" I had my own lament going as I regretted not grabbing my real camera as we dashed out the door to go load up panels.

My cell phone camera's telephoto lens didn't do the scene justice. The bull who had dashed swiftly into the plum thickets on Monday during our attempts at a round-up ambled up the hill toward the portable corrals.

I could see one of the cowboy's lariats swirling on occasion to provide a subconscious nudge when the bull had other ideas. I could hear a subtle "yip, yip" as the cowboys completed their mission.

With little fanfare, the guys helped us load the bull into the trailer and rode off in the sunset.

Well, they rode off to the north, where there pickups and trailers were parked, but you get the idea.

Kinley and Brooke are now in that little girl horse fascination phase. I have to say I'm understanding that attraction at the moment ... not enough to get on a horse, of course. Just enough to appreciate them a little more.

And the bull? He got a chauffeured ride to the Pratt sale barn.