Even though my first love is the Morgan, I also show saddlebreds, and sometimes help my trainer with the academy kids.  I have to tell this story because not only is it funny, but i think we can learn something from it.   I’m not sure how its done in the Morgan world, but in the saddlebred world, all the little leadliners get first place blue ribbon and a big bucket of toys.  Well I was at a schooling show that the barn was hosting, and I was helping out the kids.  Well the leadline class just got out and this little girl was crying really hard.  I asked her, “Honey, whats wrong, you got a blue ribbon, thats really good…” Well what she said next almost knocked me off my feet.  She said, and I quote “But I didn’t want the blue ribbon, I wanted the PINK ribbon!!!!”  She said this while huge crocodile tears are running down her face.  I couldn’t help but laugh and told her I would get her a pink ribbon.  I took the blue ribbon and went to my trainer and said that I needed to trade the blue one for the pink one.  She gave me a wierd look and when i told her that the little girl wanted a pink one, she just laughed.  I went back to the little girl with the biggest pink ribbon we had, and I have never seen a happier girl in my life.  If we learn anything from that little girl, it’s that there is more to showing and life than the color of the ribbon you get.

Chapter 10
More Morgans

I meet the man who lives next door. He comes driving up to our shared “falling down fence.” Gerry Black is his name. Jerry seems to be an old man to me. When I first met him he is only ten years older than I am now. I am currently 65 years old. Gerry drives up to the fence in his old Ford flat bed truck. The truck is highway department yellow. The truck bounces across the non road of Gerry’s rolling oak savanna. How all the “stuff” on the flat bed stays put is beyond the scope of any ones understanding. At 75, Gerry is still shoeing horses and does a fine job. He eventually becomes my shoer. I learn very quickly to take away his truck keys so that he does not leave a horse unfinished. I bring him gallons of coffee and Costco muffins while he shoes. Sometimes of shoeing takes all day to get three to four horses done. He is an excellent shoer and a fabulous story teller. I love the stories.

We meet over the cobweb fences that keep his herd of twelve to twenty cross bred Belgium work horses off my irrigated lands. Jerry knows how to drive horses. As I get to know him better he tells me stories of digging irrigation canals with a slip (ditch digger), logging in the woods of the Cascades, gathering wild horses from Pilot Rock to Mt Shasta with his dear friend Buck. I meet Buck who becomes a friend of mine as well.

These old men hang out on cold winter days at the local (no longer standing) café called the “Milky Way.” They sit there for hours drinking stale coffee and telling vibrant stories. I often find my way to the café just to sit and listen to men who are vanishing into the mists of time and to remember their stories. I am so aware that I am living on the cusp of time that will vanish before my eyes. I must live the adventures of my life or I will never have the vanished opportunities again…

One morning Jerry says,

“Bout time we put together that pair of Morgan horses you have always dreamed of having.”

“Sure” I reply. “I can hardly wait.”

Currently I have two Morgan horses on the place. Suzie, my mare, and Woody, my gelding… I use them for everything necessary on the ranch and often for the unnecessary things as well. I just ride for the love and fun of riding.

I am so excited about driving my pair of horses. Gerry and I (really it is just Gerry as my job is to just sit and hang onto the seat of the old auto tired wooden wagon.)

Gerry uses one of his very broke Belgium Crosses, Jug, as a breaking horse with my smaller mare Suzie. He moves Suzie to the right side of the pair and put the horses through their paces.

“Always break horses in the winter. They don’t get overheated and mad.”

Gerry continues with his wisdom of experience. “You don’t get mad either. Too cold and wet to get mad.” He drops another pearl of wisdom. “Never use a hammer on your wife or husband, your truck or your horse. Use the tool as it is intended and learn how to use the tool.”

Then comes another pearl on this necklace of knowledge that I continue to learn from Gerry. “There are no shortcuts. Don’t hide behind the problems. Drive the horse beyond the problem. If they won’t stand. Teach them to stand. You got to teach them to stand with a silk string holding them and to pull the weight of the world behind them. A horse is very smart. Do the job right the first time.”

I sit with a master horseman upon an old wooden farm wagon that has seen better days. The tongue of the wagon is a tree with the bark still on it. Gerry drives the horses as a perfect pair. What I would give, if I had the funds, to send him to the East Coast driving competitions. What an art this man holds in his hands. He can drive a pair. Gerry begins to talk about putting together a four-in-hand of Morgans.

I start looking and will continue to look for the next twenty years until I figure out that driving is pair is “good enough” for me. At one time I own and drive three pairs of Morgans and can put together a four-in-hand with that group. I can drive the four by myself but realize just how dangerous and fool hardy driving four by your self really is. I keep to my pairs. Now let us return to Gerry.

One of the best parts of learning to drive a pair is gathering up Gerry’s horse that we use a partner to each one of my horses.

“You cannot train a horse by the clock”. Gerry lives by his own time and sees the world only through his own eyes. He NEVER has his horses ready when I show up with my Morgan. I ride my mare over to his old wooden pole barn. I ride out on his 250 acres in search of the big horse herd and run them into the barn. I have a surreal experience on these fall mornings searching out the horses that are the colors of fall leaves and watching them gallop to the barn with their hooves thundering and their manes flowing behind them.

Yes, we could lock up old Jug so we wouldn’t have to catch him each morning, but then I would miss my leaves, the bucks, and my gallop. For the first time in many years, I have the most precious commodity of all things. I have TIME. I enjoy my ride rather than worry about “saving time” by having Jug locked up

I am forever grateful to my “formal driving lessons” from some of the best drivers in the world. All those hours of driving in California carry me to a height of appreciation of formal driving that I would never have obtained if I did not have the art of “perfection.” Behind me. Now I am content to sit beside a master driver disguises as a “Cinderella” , covered in farm dirt and wood smoke and dirty clothes, knowing full well, in my heart of hearts, that Gerry Black is able to perform as the driver of a golden coach going to the ball. Such is the fabric of my dreams that slowly weave into the fabric of my reality.

I learn to drive pairs very well and with great joy and purpose.

Chapter 6

Other People’s Cattle

I lease out my fields to another man’s cattle. I have fields and grass and he needs the grass. The time is the end of March. March 24th to be exact. The man turns his cattle onto my upper field pasture.  March arrives like a lion and creeps out on little lamb’s feet.

Calves are again being born on the ranch. The mud tries to dry up, and then Mother Natures dumps buckets of water on the ground. The mud becomes the consistency of wet cement. This black gumbo will grow anything but is treacherous soil. This soil can kill as well as grow.

I spend one day and most of the night nursing a sick calf that “bogged’ down in the mud by the feeding pens. Usually the mothers are smart enough not to bring their babies up to the feed lot. This baby didn’t listen very well to the mama cow.  The past few days had been warm and wonderful so “Why listen to your mama.” thinks the baby calf.

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The following is a chapter by Carole Mercer sent to me for posting. Enjoy…
Chapter 5
Morgan Horses in the First Year

I buy more horses. I arrive with my Morgan Mare, Suzi, from California. I buy Quarter horse buckskins became I believe I will make a try at being a “master cutting horse trainer.” I discover that the entry fee for a cutting horse show can be as much as $500.00 dollars for just several minutes. Plus I have not a clue on how to cut cows. I buy another Quarter horse gelding that I think will be my rope horse. I have one Western saddle and no idea how to rope. I own lots of pasture and I keep horses cheaply until winter when I find out that the horses eat more hay than my cows. I keep the Morgan because she is an easy keeper. Suzi can eat sticks and gain weight. I sell all of the nice Quarter Horse dreams. They all go to good homes. I am down to one horse.
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It’s been a crazy winter, and it’s only the end of December. I haven’t ridden too much since November, but decided last night to hop on Bobby Sox and just have fun. Usually, I’m working on a nice collected lope, or pivots – or whatever (there’s always something), but yesterday, I just wanted to RIDE. So, I saddled Bobby up with a little hunt saddle along with a snaffle bit and had at it. It was so much fun – we did cavaletti, trotted REALLY fast - I never knew a horse could trot that fast without breaking into a canter! We cantered loosely around the ring – it was just fun and worry free. We have all the rest of winter and spring to work on the business end of things – seriously, I am sore today – BUT it was the best winter blues therapy I’ve had. Hope you all are enjoying your PLAY time too

Here is another story Carole sent to me for posting…enjoy:

Chapter 4

First Calves of the First Year

My first calf is born on February, Friday the 13. We have so much snow that school is cancelled. Sarah and I do a mama cow walk and find this cold baby on the wrong side of the fence from his mama. I shove the calf under the fence to the mama side of the pasture. The mama does not let the calf nurse. She kicks him every time he tries to nurse. Oh great. First calf and problems already. The baby needs milk….he needs colostrums. I carry the baby to the barn. Mama cow is hot on my tracks. What am I doing with the baby…her baby….that she does not want? I know nothing, but am totally determined that this cow and her baby are going to pair up.

I rope the mama and tie her up in the horse barn. I have no idea how I achieve this rodeo act, but I do. I then get a halter on her head while the mama is trying her best to kill me. I blindfold her and tie up a back leg. I get a bucket and I, who have never milked anything…milk her out. She wants to kick the heck out of me, but I am so quick. I am quick and I milk like I am in a contest. She kicks. I milk. She misses. I milk. I feed the baby with a glove nipple the colostrums milk. I put the calf on the milked out mama cow. With the milking her bag is not so tight and she doesn’t hurt. Besides I still have her tied up and blindfolded. I am covered with cow manure from head to toe. The mama cow has been feeling a little excited. Ranching is powerful stuff. I will not trade my ranch for a warm, safe inside job for anything.
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(This little story is for those of you who hate trailering horses…)

As many of you know I live in Northeastern Ohio and if you live in this state you find a lot of truth in the common Ohio saying, “If you don’t like the weather, just wait a day and it will change”. This past weekend we had one of those “days”. It was seasonably cold on Saturday morning, but the skies were clear and the roads dry. However, by 2pm the weather took a quick turn with the temperature dropping and snow beginning to fly (LOVE that “Lake Effect”).

Normally this weather does not pose a problem for me. I certainly don’t like it but my little Honda Element can truck through it with no problem. However, this particular snow brought with it a HUGE problem for me. My daughter and I had decided to take both our horses to a morning Sunday show (I was riding in a Show Rider class and she in the Academy classes) and I needed to trailer them myself. For those of you who know me personally, trailering horses just down the road on a clear, beautiful day is a big undertaking for my brain. I hate trailering horses and it makes me incredibly nervous. I am an okay driver (except maybe for Toll Booths…apparently that is a good joking point for those following me – I just am afraid I will run up over the curb or hit one of those walls). My problem is that I always think about everything that could go wrong…What if someone cuts me off while driving down the interstate? What if I have a flat or my truck breaks down? What if I get lost? And, most importantly, What if I have to stop for gas and I get stuck in the gas station and can’t maneuver myself out? (I know that last one is really dumb, but my poor brain just can’t get past it). Yesterday, however, was the mother of all trailering stresses for me…Snow was falling and sticking to the roads – Yikes!
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The first year
Struggling

Chapter 3

I now have too much hay in the barn. I need something to feed. I have one Morgan horse that I come with me on an earlier trip to Eagle Point, Oregon from Woodside, California. The mare is Suzi, an overly fat Morgan and she is not going to eat all that hay in the barn. However, Suzi would like to try to eat all the hay in the barn. She is a Morgan horse after all…

So I proceed with a brilliant plan that borders on stupidity. I purchase three Quarter horses.

I think I will become a “Cutting Horse Champion.” I totally am embracing the “cowgirl” fantasy .The Quarter horse mare has a colt foal at her side and is in foal for the spring of next year. Talk about a “ready made” trio of horses.  I am also “training” a big Quarter horse gelding named” Tony.” He will make a great rope horse when I buy my herd of cattle. Suzi is my driving horse. I must think I have lots of time on my hands.
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The first years. Chapter 2
 
Haying is an art form. If you have a good field and Mother Nature is willing to play along with you and if you are lucky…. very lucky ….you will get a good crop of hay.
 
Personally, I am convinced that farmers and ranchers qualify as gamblers.
 
My vet, Jim Perry, once told me that, “ Ranchers are the only people that can go broke six times in a row and can hardly wait to go back again next year.”
 
 I think he is right. He certainly is right about the state of my cattle when I call him in the middle of the night.
 
 When I live in California, I have no idea of what all goes into making a bale of hay that winds up in my barn loft in California. All I know is if I call the “hay guy” and pay him enough money, then 30 hay bales appear in my barn loft.
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The following is a story written by our blog friend, Carole Mercer, who submitted many great stories earlier this year. Carole has been very busy farming this summer but was able to send this story to me to post:

The Copper Pot Pony

This story starts about 25 years ago when I first move to Southern Oregon. Money is tight as the economy is in a downturn somewhat similar to the economic downturn happening today.

I buy a ranch and set about to live my life long dream as a “cowgirl/rancher/ farmer hand” on my own ranch. I love my new life and I love my job, but I find myself always short of money. I begin to do some “horse trading” to stretch my income and help the out flow of dollars from owning a ranch. I dabble in quarter horses, but my heart is with Morgans. I begin to dabble in Morgans and find out that I can buy, train and sell Morgans as long as the horse is a “Classical Morgan”. I buy and sell two to four horses a year. I am not a big time operation. I just get the horses going really well and then sell them.

This side line brings me to a couple of horses that I will call “Chuck “and “Samson.” These two hoses have lots of Brunk and UVM breeding in their background. Samson is black and Chuck is the color of a shiny copper pot.
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