Laughter Leaves and Returns

LAUGHTER LEAVES AND RETURNS – by Joyce M. Davidson

That particular morning I walked into my Momma Bea's house, looking for her. Bea wasn't really my Mom but I called her that and had unofficially “adopted” her as such. We were good friends and enjoyed many a coffee together. 
We shared a mutual caring of animals and I had recently house and dog- sat for her. I remember checking her little Corkie dog through out the night hoping to find she was still warm and had not passed away without me knowing it. Corkey had a bad heart and her days were limited we knew. I saw the stethoscope on Bea's bed and wondered a bit about it , but quickly forgot it as I looked for Bea and called her name. She obviously was not home so I got in my van and left again. Up at the corner I met Bea in her car and she rolled down the window and said “I've just had Corkey put down”. Oh my I was shocked and told her I would drive around and meet her at the house. When I walked in a second time I burst into tears and it was Momma Bea that consoled me! I felt so bad for Bea. But of course life went on for the rest of us and Bea and I continued our friendship. Still something seemed to be missing and it was more than Corkeys little presence. Some time later I was informed of another long-haired Chihuahua looking for a home.

 His elderly owner had to go into hospital and the little dog needed a temporary home. I asked Bea if she would take him and remember strictly telling her NOT to fall in love with him as the owner would get out of hospital and want him back.  From the first day he arrived Teko brought smiles to Bea's face and then I heard it! Bea was laughing! THAT'S what had been missing! The laughter had gone from her life and now with Teko on her lap it had returned and it was a lovely sound!! Teko's previous owner would not leave the hospital again and Teko became Bea's little dog and also the apple of her eye. She talked to him worried about him and often called him her little boy. He made her very happy and she has doted on him for many years.

Korean Angel

THE KOREAN ANGEL BY Joyce M .Davidson- as told to me by Aya Higashi

The small Japanese woman felt the Nurses' words fall on her head like blows.”No one on my shift stays the night with a patient! I don't care what the other nurses have done. You will have to go home now!” Tired to the bone the little woman left the room. She had married her husband “until death did they part”. In the past few months he had been very close to deaths' door and she was loath to leave him alone now. It simply was not right and was not her “way” at all.

But she was not one to cause a big fuss and there were more ways than one to be near to her husband. Later when all was silent, she quietly went back and sat in the waiting room. She would be able to hear if there was a fuss in the night and go to her husbands side where she belonged. She was surprised when the lights were turned out and the heat turned off as well. The hospital floor settled into a deep quiet and all was dimly lit.

Determination was strong in her and she would wait all night there and simply hope and pray for the best, as she had throughout her life. Surely, they would be granted more time than this?

She heard the nurse leave the floor for her break and thought this would be a good time to sneak in and kiss her husband goodnight. She went quietly down the hall and entered the room, she leaned in near his face and kissed him and told him “Things will be all right!” Then she tiptoed out to take up her vigil in the waiting room again.

The next day she happened to overhear a man saying an angel, a Korean Angel, had come to him in the night and kissed him and told him it would be all right. And so it was, the man was feeling much better! Who knows if his mistaken kiss had not pulled him through a crisis? Aya wisely kept her counsel and said not a thing until eventually, it became another one of life’s little stories in Kaslo.

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I'm Still Writing

  I am still writing and soon hope to start the stories of Kaslo and when I first came here to live permanently.
But before that happens I would like to share with you a story of an older lady here in Kaslo.  She told me this in the coffee shop and cracked me right up.  And so, here it is for your enjoyment as well. True story! As are all the ones I write.

Moving On

  The Spring of '72 was not a great one.  We always opened up for rides on Easter weekend but that year I had sprained my ankle quite badly and I opened up, using crutches.  By the end of the day I had put the crutches aside and  mostly just hopped and hobbled around.  The farms kids were there to help me and I remember the twins coming down to the corrals to help catch the horses for me. They would tie several binder twines together and make a ball of string that they threw over the horses necks, and grabbing the other end would bring me a horse to saddle up. They were a big help and saved me a lot of steps.Still it was hard going and my ankle swelled every night.  Pops had been drinking more and more, which upset Mary and to make a long story short she and I had a big fight and I ended up quitting my job.
    My brother was in town again and had borrowed my car (now a Ford Galaxy I had bought from my Mom) and I phoned him to tell him what had happened and decided to go back to B.C. with him. I told him to leave his two German shepherds at Moms because I would need all the room in the car to move my stuff.
    It had turned into a horrible day and I was most unhappy as I went around gathering my things and trying to pack up.  Every so often Mary would snipe at me and ask "What about the two cats you rescued?" etc.   I obviously needed some help from outside and I phoned Ken to make arrangements.  He agreed to move Trouble for me to a place for boarding and take the two rescue cats to the S.P.C.A.  Chubby of course would come with me.
    But OH! I was saying an awful lot of goodbyes!  I had put down roots at Twin Bridges and it hurt enormously to now pull those roots up and start anew.  For the most part I had to just turn my mind off and not see Charlie on my bed or Spankey waiting outside   I could not think of all the "Whats going to happen-nows? "  As I walked out into the porch Pops looked at me and said "Did you want to think about this?"  I could not answer him or even look at him and don't think I even said goodbye. My brother still had his two dogs in the car and Chubby and I fit ourselves in and with my record player on my lap we left Twin Bridges.

   Once we got to my Moms, I had a big time melt-down and cried until my stepfather gave me a Valium.  Somehow I would handle all this and begin a new life out in B.C.  But my heart was very heavy for the next few days before we left.

Crazy Cowboy

  My brother lived in B.C., but every so often he and his family came to Calgary for a visit.  On one occasion he decided to go for a ride with me out at Twin Bridges.  I gave him my horse Duke to ride and off we went. Unfortunately he had been imbibing in a few drinks and it was getting dark.  He did not know the lay of the land and what he mistook for a road, was in fact two well rutted tracks the horses and stock used to go out to pasture.  At on point he went to gallop across these ruts and of course the horse went down.  The horse ran away while he moaned and groaned.




 My brother had hurt his knee quite badly and could hardly walk so I put him up on the horse I was riding and walked him back down the lane.  I could only hope Duke would not step on his reins and cut his mouth.  Once back to his truck my Brother was not yet done and thought we should drive out there and find my horse.  Again, I found you could not reason with someone that was under the influence but the by the time we got to the end of the lane and shone the lights on where we had been, I did manage to convince him that there was no road and to drive down into the valley would be suicidal and he would not get far upright for sure.  His wife backed me up and we also had their little girl with us.  We could not see Duke and I didn't sleep well that night knowing he was out there all tacked up.  Luckily in the morning I went hurriedly down to the corrals and there he was not much worse for the wear at all.

  Although I had bonded with Trouble I never had with Duke. He was not an easy horse to ride at all and was a horse that did a lot of dancing and prancing.  In my lack of knowledge when I bought him, I thought that was neat but it is not.  A few miles on a "jigging" horse is most tiresome and although since then I have managed to train some of that out of horses, at the time I did not know what to do about it.  In the fall at sale time I took him in and he only brought me $130.
  The late night ride my brother took did not endear him to Mary at all and one day I would hear the oft-repeated words "Well you may think the sun rises and shines out of his _ _ s, but it does not!"  Still he was my big brother and I thought a lot of him.

Lumps and Bumps

     Eventually, with hard work and time well-spent, we had all the colts working well and some of the older horses too.  One horse remained to be worked. He was an older gelding that had been ridden years back and somehow had escaped everyones' attention.  He went by the unlikely name of "Knights" and really seemed to have nothing special about him.  I suppose his name may have come from a previous owner. In any case we brought him in one day to start working with him. Doug and Ken decided to "pony" this one off of Big Goldie.  Doug saddled up Big Goldie and Ken got Knights decked out and handed Knights' lead shank to Doug before mounting the bay horse.  Doug was inexperienced at this, and although Goldie could have easily pulled Knights around, Doug never really asked for all Goldie had.  Knights dug in and refused to move one inch!  On this day. Ken lost his temper and jumped off Knights and kicked him in the belly to get him started.  Well did he ever!

A horse pulling back on a rope is bound to come forward sometime, and it is best to be out of the way when he does.  When Knights jumped forward, Doug and Goldie were in the way and he came right up and seemed to be giving Doug a hug!  Except, his hooves were beating a tattoo on Doug's back!  As quickly as he could Doug got off Goldie, once on the ground, he fell and actually went on his hands and knees to get out of there!
Doug ended up over in the round pen panting like he had run a marathon.   He was one scared cowboy that day! Luckily, there was no real damage done although Doug would sport a few bruises on his back. He obviously had thought he had "bought the farm" and was meeting his demise--all he could say was "Those raggedy hooves! All I could feel were those raggedy hooves!"
  But we all got hurt every so often, it was a rough work dealing with one thousand pound adversaries.  My first injury came when I joined a lesson Mary was giving to the twins. There were a few small jumps set up and I was riding Wavy in a Western saddle.  Trust me, there is a reason English jumping saddles do not have horns on them!  As I went over a jump Wavy took to bucking and the horn on my saddle slammed into the palm of my right hand and popped a bone in there.  It hurt like crazy but later in the house Pops grabbed my hand unceremoniously and pummelled it until I thought I was going to faint and declared I had not broken it.  The next day I went to hospital for exrays where again I was told there was no break but on a later Xray by a doctor he assured me I had so broken a bone.  By that time it was healed ,but to this day I have a hard bump on the back of my hand.
    Around that same time, I was guiding a group of children and counsellors from a camp called Y-tic.  The kids wanted to "run" and against my better judgement I agreed.  We were nicely loping along when BANG! my horse Easter went down like she'd been shot!  She had stepped in a gopher hole and was now on her side and laying on my leg as well.  I lay there with many thoughts racing through my head. Had she broken her leg?  Had she broken MY leg?  How was I going to get out of this one?   A few moment later Easter took things in hand and very carefully got up and shook herself.  I got up much more clumsily by hanging onto a stirrup.  Some of the children were still with me but not a counsellor in sight-not even the one that had ridden by me as I lay there casually asking if I was OK.  Sure I was, I was just doing a "trick" for the kids you fool!  I looked at the house, making a wish to be anywhere but where I actually was and then finding the horse was okay and I was moving still, I mounted with difficulty to get these kids back home.  There was still a job to be done after all.
   The next calamity I had with Easter was again about the same time.  One does not ride well with a variety of small injuries.  I had taken Easter out bareback to assist some riders and returning home, found Jay beside me on Sheba.  We loped side by side, thinking we were in control, but Easter had "Race!" in her mind. I told Jay to pull up to nip the race in its bud.  He replied "I can't" and off I thundered past him.  I could not use both hands to pull the horse in and we were headed straight for a three bar gate!  I prepared myself to jump it bareback but Easter at the last minute decided to change direction and go through the partially open gate.  She misjudged and hit the gatepost squarely with her chest. I did a somersault over her
head and scraped my back down each rail to arrive in a sitting position with one rein in my hand.  I do believe I was "out" for a short time, but I was still alive and that was good!  I was also glad I had hung onto a rein just like Pops always lectured me to do.  An ex-policeman had seen the whole thing and thought I should go to hospital but I had a Dude String to run and there was no one to take over, I continued throughout the day, albeit somewhat hurting,

Whatever It Takes

   Chubby was always innovative and inventive.  He kept himself busy and occupied "overseeing" all aspects of the farm and stepping in when he felt there was a need for his abilities as a "Master Dog"!

   Attached to our long tack shed, we had a small "room" if you will, where we kept the oat pails to feed the horses.  Sometimes,  we would fill these pails with oats beforehand and this of course attracted mice.  With the granary not far away we had many mice anyhow.  Chubby decided to become a better mouser than any cat could be.  For this job he even educated a helper. " Dollar-dog" had passed on, and been replaced with a young black collie named Bud.  True to his terrier heritage, Chubby had long been a killer of rodents and spent many hours hunting gophers and also voles in the field. ( Those were the slow days when he could take time off from getting horses up that were rolling on saddles.)
   But I had a hard time believing my eyes one day when I observed the set-up and system he had arrived at for eradicating mice!  There was a small hole in the corner of the building where the oat pails were and somehow Chubby would get Bud all excited about mice and the young dog would jump and chase throughout the room while the "Master dog-Chubby" would simply wait outside at the open corner and catch and kill the escaping mice at a great rate!  It was a very imaginative and successful plan.  What a clever little cuss he was!  With minimum effort he got to do all the catching while the young dog did all the hard work.  Unlike some dogs and many cats, Chubby was a quick and efficient killer.  Rodents were dispatched quickly and cleanly with none of your "cat and mouse games".  There was seldom a dull moment in Chubbys life.
   There was other work for us wranglers as well.  Although Pops did all the seeding of the green feed crop everyone had to help at times with the actual harvesting.   To me, farm work was a diversion from the day after day of Dude-ing out horses and I didn't mind.  After the "hay" was cut, Pops would hook up the baler and behind that the stooker.  As the bales came out of the baler, the "stookerman" would grab them and pile them in order on the stooker.  The first row would be four bales then three, two and one on the top.Then you would "trip" the load leaving behind a little pyramid of ten bales to be picked up at a later date.   The bales had to be placed "cut side up" and in that way, would repel any rain should the bales not be stored under cover for a time.

It was hot and heavy work and I remember wearing Pops' old "bat-wing" chaps for protection as the bales made short work of a pair of jeans, by days end.  On the weekend the men helpers, usually Ken and Doug, would pick up the bales with a front end loader and stack them in the truck and take them to the barn.  Here again Chubby had left his mark.   The dogs were all fed bones we got from the butcher.  A great long box of them would be spread out near the barn and all dogs helped themselves.

The clever Chubby, ever a greedy guts of a dog, would spend much time retrieving bones and "storing" them in the loft of the barn.  Again, this was a smart ploy as he was the only dog that could negotiate the steep steps to the loft!  So prior to unloading bales into the barn, I had to clean out piles of dog bones from Chubbys' "fridge".  A years worth of bones is quite a lot!
   When I first came to Twin Bridges I had not driven a tractor or even a standard-shift anything, for that matter!  It soon became necessary for me to know, not only to drive the tractor but to hook up the manure spreader to it as well   I ran into trouble right away as could not line up the hitch of the spreader to the tractor.   I would  get things lined up and when I shut off the tractor it would move just enough to be out of alignment again.  My only companions were Chubby of course, and young Fum.  Could I ask a little kid like that to put the pin in when I next had it all lined up?  In later life I would come across a saying from a friend...."Whatever it Takes" and many of those busy times in my life I was doing just that!  What it "took" was me talking Fum into doing what was needed and she listened and stepped out of the way and all was well.  Out to the fields we went to spread the manure.  Yep....Whatever it takes!
    Driving vehicles has never been my forte, I always felt I would rather ride a horse, but vehicles were all a part of life on the farm.  On another occasion Pops would talk me into driving a three ton truck with a load of gravel in it!   I was pretty scared but trusted he was not so drunk that he didn't know what gear we needed.  As always when nervous, the sweat poured off me in buckets!  But we got the job done anyway.

    I now had my own car to get to town in.  It was a little red and white Ford Falcon that I was very proud of.  What I did not have was a legal licence and insurance!  In early spring I wanted to take a holiday out to B.C. to visit my brother and thought it would be a good idea to get my licence and be legal finally.  It took me three tries before I got it.  I made it out there and had a few small adventures and when I returned home again, I hit one of the worst blizzards ever.  Only the tops of the fence posts beside the road gave you any indication that I was even going in the right direction.  I was most relieved to turn down the farm road and although I got stuck in the back yard I didn't care!  I would deal with the stuck car tomorrow when it was daylight.  For now I just needed to go to bed.
   That same winter things had gotten so cold my little car would not start.  You can barely imagine my shock when Pops put a lit propane Tiger torch in a metal bucket and placed it under my nice little car!  But it worked and away I went to town!

The Teenage Helpers and Horses

My two teenage helpers were Jay Wright, age 15, and Marilyn age 17.  We knew Jays' parents well and I believe they just wanted him to be occupied and out of Calgary as he approached an age where he was too old for a babysitter and too young to be totally unsupervised.  I was given a choice, I could run the stables myself or I could hire some help. Mary and Pops would provide room and board and I would have to come up with their wages out of my own pocket.  I know I paid them very little and they were still happy.  It all seemed like a lark to them and they did work hard.  Mary and Pops seemed to always find room for one more and soon the small bunkhouse was employed as a room for  Jay and the men if they stayed over.
   One of Jays first challenges was learning which horse was which.  We had several grey horses and one was very quiet and allotted to Jay as a first horse. This horses' name was Ray and he was a tall horse, Jay was not a tall person yet and mounting was always hard for him on Ray.  Another grey horse was named Larry and he was not quiet.  Jay soon learned not to mix them up even if he did think all grey horses looked the same.  I think both kids enjoyed their summers at Twin Bridges.  It was probably like going to camp only more fun and they did make a bit of money anyway.
    I believe I met Marilyn when she came out to ride one day and I ended up hiring her.   I don't believe I ever met her parents and possibly she just wanted to get away from home and be a little independent.  She was a tall girl and could soon swing up on a horse using only the mane, something that Jay and I had to work on. I found these two teens became more like siblings that I never had and I cared a lot for them.
   There always seemed to be small challenges to meet or "mini-contests" invented by this unlikely pair. One such contest was almost like a graduation.  How many five gallon oat-pails can be carried at once without spillage??  The answer is eight and that's something I would find hard to believe if we had not done it! One other challenge would be who could tack up a horse the fastest or swing up on a horse or stand up, and so it went.  I know we had many good laughs and lots of fun.
   Living at Twin Bridges was not quite as idyllic as Jays parents may have hoped.  On one occasion the little monster got into the booze the men had and overindulged until he was violently ill (all over the bunkhouse) and very hung-over the next day(when he had to clean it up).  But at least it was a harmless little drunk and he was in a safe place,
   We all looked forward to evening rides after we were finished for the day and had eaten our supper.  No matter how tired we were, evening rides were the reward for us all.  We often rode the fireguard that ran along the fence line separating our land from the Indian Reserve.  Soft footing for the horses and a not bad landing for a rider if it came down to that.  These rides were good  experience for the riders and also for any young horses we had in training.  Only Jay and Marilyn rode horses from the Dude string and then it was a horse that had not been used much that day.  Doug,Ken. and I used this time for our special and favourite horses.
   Of course we were not supposed to ride on the Indian Reserve at all , but it was a nice change of scenery. One time, the Indian Police arrived to complain about us riding there.  I laughed when I heard that Mary turned the tables on them and  tore a strip off them about their stallions breaking in after our mares.  It was true and I had a wild ride one day trying to retrieve one of our mares.  Jay and I were riding and I was using a young and fast mare named Sultana.   Across the fence, we spotted a herd of mares and a stallion and our mare was in the bunch!  Well. I would just see if I could get her back.  What a dream at best.  I had no rope(and didn't know how to use one anyway) and stood to lose my good mare plus tack, to the stallion if things got turned around.   As we opened the gate I made Jay stand guard in case I had to bring the whole herd in.  When the band of mares and the stallion spotted me they took off at a hard run and so did I !  I managed to stay with them for a time and then suddenly as I came around some bushes "POOF!" they were gone!  My blood was up and the exhilaration of the chase strong in me.   But they had literally disappeared!  It was as if they had run off the face of the earth!  I slowly rode around looking for some sign of which way they had gone but couldn't see anything that would lead me to them.  In disappointment, I returned to loyal Jay at the gate, who had been dancing up and down in anticipation of seeing his first "wild stallion".  Of course these horses were not wild in the true sense but they seemed to be to Jay.  The mare was eventually returned to us, possibly in an effort to keep us off the reserve and the mare was most likely bred.  We would have a free "catch-colt" they were called. (the mare having found her own mate as opposed to humans selecting it)  In any case, it was a ride and a "feeling of the chase" that I never forgot.

First Gymkhana

Twin Bridges was a place of many "firsts" for me and it was then I took part in my very first Gymkhana.  As opposed to a proper horse show where quiet good horsemanship wins the prize, Gymkhana evolved from teaching mounted troops to ride well, fast and crazy I felt.  In any case it certainly looked like fun and I wanted to take part.
Pops had a stocky rope horse named Big Goldie.  This horse had "done it all" when Pops was still riding and to get me started Pops took me out in a field on Big Goldie and instructed me. I believe we were practising pole-bending.

  Eight poles are set up a certain distance apart and a rider is required to weave through them, turn quickly on the last pole and return weaving again.  The thing that Pops had neglected to tell me was Big Goldie loved games and had a "start' that was unbelievable.  Thinking one should lean forward for more speed, (incorrect at the best of times) I did this.  As the horse lunged powerfully ahead and I straightened up I found  my shirt torn right up beside the snaps! We had to call time out for me to change into something a little less breezy.  Big Goldie had gotten my respect for power for sure!  This was not simply "sitting" on a horse but hard riding!  I practised for some time and particularly liked the Stake Race, where a rider starts on a line between two stakes and on the signal, jumps the line and pivots right, then turns around one stake, then races to the next and turning around that one races hell-bent-for-leather to the finish line. It was important to pivot to the right upon jumping the centre line.

Excitement grew as the twins joined in practice sessions and we all made plans to attend the Gymkhana at Beaupre.  I don't believe Beaupre was even a place anymore but the Ghost River Pony Club sponsored an event out on the prairie wool (natural prairie grass) every year. We soon had our mounts sorted out and I decided in the end to ride my own horse Duke.  Mr.Bear rode Big Goldie and Tuny Runt (girl twin) rode her pony.  I found the whole day a most exciting adventure.  However, when we lined up for the Stake Race, and the announcer told us to turn towards the mountains (thereby helping little kids be right) I turned away from the mountains and was disqualified. I couldn't believe I had done that but first show jitters and just the hype of the day blew my chance away.
I did in the end come home with a small horseshoe trophy that is still an all time favourite of mine.  It says simply " Ghost River Beaupre Pony Club" 3rd, 1971.   I am not even sure if the was an overall trophy or for an individual event.    I do know on the bottom I have written "First Trophy With Duke!"  It sounds like I was looking forward to more, if I ever got it together.  The club must have done well for finances to supply a trophy or third place and I have not seen that again, but my trophy is still very special to me 41 years later!

Kittens In The Closet

At times the house at the farm was inundated with kittens.There were usually two or three female Siamese cats producing litters of adorable kittens.  One day the stud cat- Father Rat-disappeared. If anyone knows Siamese cats, they will be aware that it is almost impossible to live with a female Siamese cat that is in heat!The noise is appalling!  We soon knew we needed to get something done about  a new male in their lives.  Mary heard an ad on the radio about a male cat needing a home. This cat had taken up residence with some holiday people and now it was time for the people to return home sans cat!  We phoned and were delighted to pick up a nice looking male.  Shortly after that Pops made an inspection and discovered  the cat had been fixed, so he would be of no help to the
females at all.  We named the neutered cat Charlie and he liked to be with me in my room where it was a bit more quiet than in the main rooms.  I became very attached to Charlie and cared for him big time!

 Eventually another male was found and the kitten production continued.  Before we knew it, there were three litters of kittens in various parts of the house.  Mr.Bear (the boy twin) got up one morning and announced that "Stranger" had birthed her kittens.  Then he added there were two girls and three boys. Sexing kittens as newborns is not an easy task, and we suspected Mr.Bear did not KNOW at all.  We asked him how he knew there were two girls and three boys.  He replied"Cause I looked!".  When asked WHERE he had looked he glanced at us in disgust and said "I looked in the closet!".  We then gave up in defeat.  Once the three litters of kittens were old enough they became a real pain indeed.  Kittens were everywhere and you could barley walk around the house.  Then Mary would place and ad in the paper for  ten dollar kittens unregistered and in one day all kittens would be gone again.  This was how the cats paid their way and I must say Mary's philosophy of having purebred animals and letting them breed and then selling the offspring usually worked very well.

The Black Aunties

Twin Bridges Riding Academy, also owned a team or Workhorses.  They were black Percheron Mares, and had been christened with the illustrious name of "The Black Aunties".  There was not a huge call for their use and for most of their days they loafed about in the pasture with the mares and foals.  They took to caring for the foals almost like "babysitters" or pseudo-"Aunties."  Mary did not care for the heavy hoofed beasts, having had to spend an entire winter hauling water by hand to them. They would she said "Just as soon put a great bloody foot in the pail of water as drink it!"
 The Aunties paid for their keep by pulling the sleigh or the wagon for Hay Rides, which were popular with party-goers from Calgary.  Pops had picked up the team at one of the many horse sales and I think he quite enjoyed this bit of the past.  Only Pops or the two men helpers (Ken and Doug) drove the team for the hayrides.

 Being a city kid I knew nothing of teams and driving or harnessing up for that matter.  Still, if it had to do with horses I was interested for sure.  I received a lot of teasing when I first attempted to help with the harnessing.  I just plopped the "collar" over the horses' head and it was upside down!  Next the Aunties took off while I was supposedly in charge of the reins.  Luckily Ken was there to come to the rescue as I was pulling as hard as I could and they were just pulling harder!
On Halloween night in the fall, if we had a Hayride going out,  it would be necessary for us to patrol the farm and make sure no one accidentally threw a lit cigarette in the stack of Greenfeed we had painstakingly put up for winter  for the dude string.  On one of these nights, the men said they were hungry, so I went to the house to see what I could findin the fridge.  Pops had recently been hunting and Mary had cooked up half a dozen ducks.  I took one and made my way to the small bunkhouse where the guys were waiting.  We demolished the whole thing in record time and threw the bones in the burning barrel.  The next morning at breakfast, Pops (ever a big tease) commented  "Joyce must have gotten hungry last night.  She ate a whole duck-Bones and all!"

The two teens I hired to work with me for the summer, took a great liking to the Aunties and would often just put a rope on one of them and get on.  The aunties never protested and I think probably enjoyed the attention.  In good spirits, most of us would at different times "pose" for photos or ham it up.   Sometimes some of the customers did too. (And on one occasion with Trouble-so did I!)
My "farm" family had been extended with the addition of Marilyn and Jay and including Ken and Doug.  We really did seem to be like one big, happy family most of the time and I loved my life there.

A few "Rodeos"

   There were several other horses on the farm at Twin Bridges that were not included in the Dude String.  They consisted of older animals the were offspring of the Arabian Stallion and a couple of others that had been started and then left out to pasture.  With the two men that helped on weekends, I had assistance to get these horses going again and some went up for sale and were sold.  Two of these were Benji and Tara.   I don't remember much of Benji except a young man came out to try her, paid his money and left on her down the road.  Benji and Tara were both off an older mare called Bunny and I called her next filly Spook. Most of Bunny's offspring sported the same large “dot” on their foreheads.

   I especially enjoyed riding Tara.  Again, she was a liver-chestnut, and to this day I like that colour.  Tara was a nice and smooth horse to ride and I don't remember having much trouble with her at all.  I was rapidly becoming a believer in bloodlines, as the half-Arabian horses seemed so much more intelligent and willing to learn, with none of the stubbornness of the Grade horses.  The two men and I had a lot of good rides on the “green” (young and inexperienced) horses. It was never boring.  Doug eventually became so attached to Tara he bought her and Ken seemed to be very attached to the Blue as well.

  Pops was not above getting in on the “training” of some of these horses and in the dark of night once appeared outside my bedroom window riding Tara!  It was late and I had been asleep for some time, when a shout awoke me.  When I looked outside I thought I must still be sleeping and this had to be a dream!  In the  black night with only the yard light to see by, and with fog swirling around them, stood a sweating Tara with Pops on her back.  Each expulsion of air from the mares nostrils were geysers of smoke, making me think of Puff the Magic Dragon!  With a comment to me of 'Thought I couldn't do it eh?”, Pops swung the mare around and at a dead run, jumped the little picket fence surrounding the front yard!  I was dressed in record time and out to the barn just as he clattered up and decided his evening of drinking and riding was over.  It was 2:30 in the morning and I put a blanket on the mare and walked her dry, once again wondering at this crazy place that I had come to live.  The animals were great but I had to wonder about the people sometimes.

Later Pops had another little night riding episode with “The Blue”.  The blue was what is called a blue roan colour.  His coat was predominately black with a heavy mix of grey or white hairs.  This tall gelding was a different story to train and did not take to being ridden easily.  At one time or another “The Blue” had dumped everyone off and he got serious about it!  On another night when once again Pops had had his fill of “brown-bottle” courage, (beer), he decided to ride the blue.  Pops knew many ways to get the job done from the “old ways and days”.  Once he had “The Blue” in the barn he attached a rope to one hind foot and threaded this rope up through the swells in the saddle.  I stood on the ground trying to dissuade Pops from the folly of doing this ride.  But you can't really reason with a drunk and there was no doubt that was Pops' condition.  He rode many a fancy manoeuvre and the rope trick seemed to be working......until that is......the rope slipped up the horses leg and lost its leverage for Pops.  Suddenly “The Blue” went to bucking and it was quite a rodeo!  I think Pops may have lasted eight seconds but no one was tracking time.  When Pops “met Mother Earth” it was with a bone breaking jar.  “The Blue” left the country, jumping a fence and running off on the Indian Reserve.  Pops, although very sore made his way to the house with apparently no broken bones.  I looked for the horse for a time, but when he didn't return I too went to bed.  In the morning, Blue was waiting at the gate between the Reserve and our farm, still all tacked up. 

   I once again started working with and lunging this horse in an attempt to start him all over again.  We seemed to be getting along quite well, then one day, when I was riding him, he wanted to go left and I wanted to go right.  Well didn't the poop hit the fan and right smartly!!  This 16 hand horse  went bucking along the lane towards the “Dude-gate” over which was an arch!  Not only was he bucking pretty hard he was screaming as he did it!  That really unnerved me and I sure didn't make no eight seconds!!  As we neared the arch I did not know how we would fit through. I did an all-time no-no and leaned forward, thereby losing any advantage or hope of starying on.  Having made it through the arch, I now found myself airborne.  Ooh, I knew it was going to hurt when I landed and it did!  I had a metal lighter the size of  todays' Bic inside my back pocket and when I came down landed right on that lighter and was thereafter effectively “branded” on my left buttock cheek. I didn't like stopping at this point with this horse and I remember I did lunge him some more and got on him etc. But my nerves were shot and the last place I wanted to be was up on him! Luckily, I was booked for a holiday in B.C about then .And I was glad to go!

   While I was away, Pops decided to help me with “The Blue” and took to riding him steadily.  Pops' back had been a mass of blue bruise after his ride "under the influence" and to my knowledge Pops remained sober on any future rides with this horse.  We were getting the job done anyway and by spring there were only a few two year olds to look forward to.

Sorry Folks

Sorry Readers, am taking a day off today

but will return soon!!!
Have a great Day!  Joyce

Nora's Passion

When it comes to cows. A young heifers' passion in her first “season” (oestrus) knows no bounds.  This was true of Nora, a young cow, alone and in heat.
Nora was the offspring of our Jersey milk cow and a Brown Swiss bull. She took after her sire in size and at two years of age was an enormous beast.

One morning, I was pulling the kids' little red wagon, laden with a bale of hay,across Nora’s pen on my way to feed the work horses. As I walked I heard the sound of heavy breathing behind me. I turned in time to see Nora on her hind legs,hovering over me and about to descend to earth. I dropped the handle of the wagon and ran! Nora’s great weight squashed the wagon beyond repair. I would later have to explain that to the kids! But for now I still had the horses to feed. I shooed Nora off and with one eye watching for the next crazy manoeuvre, I packed the bale of hay over to the horses.  As I went about my chores and various other activities forth rest of the day. I all but forgot about Nora and the wagon, so I was the only one aware of her amorous state.

The following morning, I was running late with my chores.  Before I got down to where Nora was I heard some angry shouting from Pops, my boss. Hurrying towards the noise, I rounded the corner of the barn and came across a very strange and humorous sight!  There, flat on his back lay Pops, with Nora standing over him mooing little cow endearments to him and slobbering her huge tongue all over his face! Pops was wearing a large overcoat that he had neglected to button. Now Nora stood with a hoof on each corner of the coat and Pops was quite effectively trapped.  The young cow had jumped Pops much the same as she had the wagon  and bale of hay, only Pops had
more clearance on the ground and was not hurt at all.  He was however very angry and swearing like a  trooper!   It was the most hilarious thing I had seen in years and for some time  I was helpless to help him up from Nora's “loving” embrace. For many days  thereafter, Pops bore the brunt of much teasing.  Sometimes a simple Moo, at
the right time would send all of us into fits of laughter.

And Nora?
Well she was sent to the bull that very day. She seemed to have her priorities straight after that and all was well again on the home front.

Weiner Dogs Strike

At Twin Bridges, my lady boss, often took on dogs that were special show dogs to whelp them out and know the puppies would all survive.  Mary was good friends with my ex-boss at the Dog Farm.  They often had dogs that they co-owned. Tony was such a dog.  She was a very pretty long-haired dachshund.

On this particular day we had been to town to do the washing.  For some reason there were never any wash baskets used.  The dirty laundry went out in plastic bags and was simply thrown on the back seat of the car when clean and then gathered up and taken to the house when we returned.  I was first to enter the house with my arms full of clean clothes.  I kicked open the bedroom door and went to throw the clothes on the bed where they would later be sorted.  Out of nowhere I was ferociously attacked! Tony had birthed her puppies and I had startled her.

 She was on the fight and I was so happy when Mary arrived and called the dog off.  But Tony never forgot I had surprised her like that.

For the next two months Tony would nail me any chance she got. The dachshund can be a feisty little dog and indeed are bred to tackle badgers!  I tried many methods to prevent another bite but to no avail.  Tony was not a forgiving type and I actually think she enjoyed putting the run on me.  I could talk to her and tell her to behave all I wanted and she would still nail me in the ankle as I turned to go in the house.  If she was “in” the house that didn't help either.  There was a long bench we needed to slide down for all of us to sit at the supper table.  Many a time Tony would bunt me with her nose and when I jumped she would get me coming down.  It began to work on my nerves and I was not a happy camper at all.  It got so bad I contemplated seeking other employment-much as I loved working there.  Luckily Tony returned to the Dog Farm and I was no longer belaboured with the biting dog.

The regular standard, short-haired Dachsy that was Mary’s own dog was another story.  Cindy was a lovable and happy dog wandering about the farm and mostly enjoying life.  She loved to sing  and Mary could get her to comply at will.  I found the singing rather intriguing, but I think Daschsunds are of the hound breed somewhere down the line and they are great “singers”.  True to form with her crazy nicknames, Mary often called Cindy, Cree-Cree for some reason.  Sadly some years later, when she was far too old to be doing such things, Cindy took on a badger and met her end.

   In retrospect, I find it amazing that all dogs got along on the farm and I never knew of one dog fight.  I guess there was enough room for all?  For the most part it was a fun place for me.  Not only were there many horses, but lots of dogs and cats as well.  For an animal person it was a great place to be.

Training Begins

  I had been so busy with life in general, I had neglected my own horse a bit. All of a sudden it was 1971 and Trouble was three years old !!  I had done a bit of work with him prior to coming to Twin Bridges but three was certainly old enough for his education to continue.  There were two other colts in the dude string that were the same age so I worked with them as well.

  
 Indian Made was a pretty black and white pinto. The spelling of her name told the story almost.  It was “Made” not Maid!  Her dam, a small pony sized animal and not pretty at all, had escaped onto the Indian Reserve long enough to be bred.  When they got her back she produced this beautiful filly. Some kind of miracle for sure!  And so this new addition, was christened Indian Made as in Made in China!

   The other youngster was Comanche. His dam had been Easter and I know nothing of the sire.  I liked Easter, a lovely chocolate kind of liver chestnut colour, she was a smooth ride and I used her often when I rode bareback.

   Needless to say, my riding had improved with all this practise, but I was far from perfect.  Almost all of the String had dumped me at one time or another.  These tiny “episodes” were usually discussed at supper time. Although he was teasing, Pops once asked me when I was going to learn to ride!  I was quite hurt by that.  Still, he trusted me and actually wanted me to train his two colts as well.  The training of the colts and the filly went well! None of them threatened to buck at all and of course I didn't want them to start.   

   I worked with all three horses as often as I could but it wasn't on a daily basis at all and therefore took a bit longer.  Comanche and Indian Made of course were both destined to be part of the string.  But long before I had a good start on him Comanche did his first ride. One day we were short one horse for a ride and I really didn't know what I would do.  Easter, Comanche's mother was in the ride.  Pops had been hanging around the tack sheds that day and he told me to tack up Comanche to go out with her and said he would be fine.  I certainly had my doubts about that but this young horse had always been very quiet.  So with many instructions to the rider and not a little trepidation I sent the riders and horses out.  Of course I worried, but as with most worry, it was for naught.  All went well and an hour later all the horses were back in the home corral.

   The horses were fed through the corral fence, as the centre rails had been left out. A group of this many horses, were a rough lot at feeding time and often kicked out at another horse trying to shove into a place that was not his.    Although I knew better, one evening I attempted to catch Easter for an evening ride and neglected to speak first.   Otherwise, Easter, a hard-to-catch horse, might take off.  I happened to put my hand on the colt first and BOOM it was lights out for me!  I had been kicked in the stomach with both hind feet!  The other riders were wondering where I went.  The horses had all been eating when I got knocked out and now were finished and had gone out to pasture.  I thought I yelled for Ken but apparently it was inaudible.  With the horses all gone and my stomach sore I opted to pass up the ride that night.  I thought I was a horse trainer now but the horses continued to train me!