dan_forester Posted September 21, 2007 Share Posted September 21, 2007 well, there's always dove-shooting & brush-clearing. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
pdawg Posted September 21, 2007 Share Posted September 21, 2007 Leased cows and cedar clearing make him just another cowpoke with a wide stance. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
rob Posted September 21, 2007 Share Posted September 21, 2007 "A horse lover can always tell when others don't share our passion," he said, according to the Washington Post. Vicente Fox is from Enumclaw? Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
No. 13 Baby Posted September 21, 2007 Share Posted September 21, 2007 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
archenemy Posted September 21, 2007 Share Posted September 21, 2007 Anyone who has worked with horses has been scared of them here or there. It is totally different being an horse's ass though. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Dechristo Posted September 22, 2007 Share Posted September 22, 2007 A buddy from a generational ranching family hooked me up with a big gelding to ride the mesa one weekend. He told me, "Watch 'im. He's gonna test ya." Then, with a grin, he said, "But, you can handle him." A couple hours up the trail, I needed a piss break. The horse had tried the usual stuff in trying to force his way, slowing and veering off to the side, bending down to grab mouthfuls of grass. A few yanks on the bit stopped that. I dismounted, but instead of tying the reins to a tree, I held them in one hand while unzipping with the other. As my stream started to flow, the horse placed a hoof on the top of my foot and began transferring his weight, flattening my foot slowly and causing my eyes to bulge. It was one of those moments of the conscious recognition of the speed of firing synapses. In nano-seconds I considered, streaming cock in one hand, reins in the other, can't move the horse with a shoulder, let go of reins: horse gone, let go of cock: piss goes wherever. I held onto the reins and pulled an Alex Karras on the bastard. The meaty part of the horse's jaw is where the two main knuckles of my fist landed with as much force as I could muster. The horse wheeled, piss flew, and I yanked the bit into the back of his mouth. We both settled down and continued on the trip with a better appreciation of the other. With the exception of him trying to wipe me off on some low branches while running through trees the following day, I found him a great horse that didn't mind deer, elk, or coyotes much, but wouldn't stand still for bears or big cats. When Sunday afternoon found us back at the ranch, Buddy asked how it went. When I told him about the Piss Dance, his eyes and smile broadened to the widest I'd ever seen either and with a laugh he simply said, "yeah, I told ya." Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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