In honor of National Day of the Horse on December 13, we gathered your favorite adventures with your horse.
Elle Douglas — Nevada
We breed and show world champion Gypsy Vanner horses. This is our granddaughter, Valentina, showing BB A Diva.
Eddie Lou Burlison — Oklahoma
On Memorial Day of 1965, the highway patrol came to the ranch with the news that my dad, Hall of Fame cowboy Eddie Curtis, was killed in a car wreck on his way home from a rodeo. I was 16 years old, and my daddy was my world. It was about 4 a.m. and pitch dark outside. My first instinct was to just run.
I came out of the house. Out in the pasture, by the fence, I saw my best friend, Dusty, waiting to console me. I had no idea he would be there. He wasn’t normally up by the house in the morning. I threw my arms around him buried my face in his neck. He reached his head around and pulled me close to him. Comfort came in his love.
We had raised Dusty from a colt. My daddy and I broke him to ride when I was 9 years old. He just knew. I know God put him there that morning just for me. Many days before and since that horrible morning, we rode the pastures together trying to figure life out. Dusty went on to give us many joys: teaching my children how to ride and learning the love that only a horse can give.
Lauren Clark — Texas
Lena came into my life after having a horse that had depleted me of all my confidence. I remember the first time I saw her. She had just come up for sale, and I was in the market for a new horse. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon in May of 2017. The barn owners weren’t home yet, but they told me I could go ahead catch her and start saddling. With my halter and lead line in hand, she immediately saw me walking towards her. She lifted her head from grazing the green lush grass and our eyes met.
For a brief moment, I thought she might walk away after seeing the halter in hand. Instead, she walked right toward me. Right then, I knew in my heart this was going to be my horse. When her eyes met mine, it was as if she picked me just as I had picked her. We needed each other.
She was not the smoothest horse. She was not in the best athletic shape. It was obvious she had not been ridden in a long time; however, something connected between us. She didn’t get all the cues right that first ride, but she did give it her all. What she lacked in training she made up for in heart. No matter what I asked of her, she tried and tried again. She wanted to please. Very quickly, this horse was giving me my confidence back.
Over the years, Lena has done everything I have asked of her. We know each other inside and out. We have ridden miles and miles of trails together. We have done team sorting and spent weekends at playdays. We have done it all, yet my favorite is always when it is just her and I on a trail. Two best friends who just get each other. No words are needed. Just quality time together. I am forever grateful for my Lena girl! She has made me a better horsewoman.
Andra Beatty — Texas
A few years ago, I competed in bull riding, bareback riding, bronc riding and rodeo queen contests.
The Chisholm Trail Days Rodeo in Fort Worth, Texas, was always the best and the most memorable.
It was a typical 100-plus degree day in June. I lived in Burleson, Texas, and stepped outside to load my favorite horse, Ginger. My first event of the day was an afternoon horsemanship competition for the rodeo queen contest. Makeup on, hair curled and all dressed up for the day, I stepped outside to quickly load my horse and drive into town. Ginger was not having it. She must have felt my sense of urgency, and she refused to step into the horse trailer.
I pulled, I pushed, I put feed in the trailer, but my mare Ginger would have none of it.
Next, she backed up, pulled the lead rope from my hands and ran off down the street. Hands still stinging from the lead rope burns, I took off in a full run after her in my women’s Panhandle Slim suit. Sweating fully, makeup melting, I finally cornered her at the end of the street. I loaded her in the trailer and was finally on my way. Navigating the country roads, off the freeway and down to the Fort Worth Stockyards, I parked quickly and unloaded my horse, who is also now covered with sweat.
Everyone else was now casually headed to the arena, and I just had minutes to get ready and catch up. I brush the horse, saddle the horse, put the bridle on and then, she lifts her head up and sneezes. The biggest horse snot sneeze ever, all over me. Apparently, horses have a sense of humor, and she had the last laugh. I just wanted to cry and go home. Instead, I gathered my reins, rode across the street and into the arena to compete.
Despite the horse snot specks all over my suit, it was a lesson learned and my win for the weekend was the title of Miss Congeniality.
Haley Ruffner — Colorado
We ride out from camp long before sunrise each morning, and at the back of the string on a black horse, my vision is relegated to flashes of the dim red beam of the guide’s headlamp far ahead. Cisco walks carefully beneath me, leaving enough distance around trees that he never scrapes my leg against bark. The hunters, riding ahead of me, catch branches on their outstretched forearms or hat brims, and I listen for the scrape of pine needles on fabric to avoid them when I ride past. Although I can’t see Cisco’s expression, I know his ears are perked forward. I can feel his neck shift left and right, and he hesitates when the horse in front of him slows to step over a fallen tree or navigate a rocky section of trail. Sparks burst up underfoot when metal horseshoes slip against rock. It’s Cisco’s first hunting season and my second in the Colorado backcountry, and so far I’m thrilled with how the anxious, green gelding is flourishing in the mountains.
We have several hunters with us this morning – one fully guided hunter, plus two unguided ones we’ll drop off on the ridge to let them hunt and hike their way back to camp. As the wrangler, it’s my responsibility to take care of the horses and make sure they and their riders make it back to camp in one piece. I often ride out on our greener horses or ones that might need schooling and make trips back to camp to pick up pack horses as needed, which means I get to spend a lot of time alone in the backcountry with just horses for company.
We drop two of the hunters off along the ridge shortly before sunrise, and the guide and third hunter ride on. I turn around to take the extra horses back to camp when the sky has lightened just enough to see the tops of the pine trees. I have nowhere to be in a hurry, so I drape in my reins and let Cisco pick his way back along the ridge trail toward camp. He’s never been on this mountain before, and never navigated this terrain, except on the ride out this morning at the back of the herd. The two extra horses – both steady veterans of our outfitting group – trudge behind me, keeping slack in their lead ropes. Cisco follows the faint trail on a slight downward slope, then chooses a different track through a copse of small pines. I leave my hand on his neck and let him decide, curious to see where he’ll take us. Back under the cover of the trees, it’s still dark enough to obscure the trail and leave a glow of stars above. I leave my headlamp off – dawn is coming soon enough, and I figure I have my bearings enough to be able to find our way back to camp eventually, even if Cisco takes us exploring.
The trees grow thicker, and I stop Cisco a few times to let the two horses behind navigate tighter gaps between saplings. He catches on to this pattern almost immediately and slows his gait for a few strides when he has to wind through close-growing trees. As the sun crests over Trinchera Peak, Cisco breaks out of the tree line again and stops in a clearing. The valley sprawls out below us, sunrise casting long shadows off the edges of rocks and downed trees. Snow-capped Trinchera gleams in the sunrise, and, for a minute, all three horses and I stand and watch the gold morning light inch its way into the valley below. A small woodpile at the edge of the clearing catches my attention – Cisco has brought us to our old camp spot from years past, which he has never seen before. Did I subconsciously steer him this way? Did something else draw him to this spot? Did the other horses somehow communicate knowledge of our old camp to Cisco? Aside from the leftover wood, there’s no sign we were ever here, nor is there a real trail from this direction into our old camp. I nudge Cisco forward again, and, without hesitation, he finds the way back to camp, leaving me to wonder what goes on in horses’ minds. I hear distant gunshots once we’re back on the main trail, and my phone buzzes with a text that one of the hunters has dropped a big bull at the far end of the ridge. I water the horses, load the two pack horses with game bags and panniers, and head back up the way we came. In total, we rode over 20 miles that day, and Cisco earned his place in the hunting string.
Sarah Rieg — New York
My permit year with the Women’s Professional Rodeo Association was 2018. I threw my horse, Suede ( his registered name is Up Up Up), to the wolves when I decided to go for it. He was coming off a year break due to me being pregnant and on bed rest. Prior to that, he had just finished his (extremely short) racing career. When I entered him in his first rodeo, it was a pro rodeo. He’d been to a handful of barrel races and that was it. He shocked the pants off me when he clicked with the rodeo ground and atmosphere. Soon, we were pulling checks. As our season here in the Northeast wrapped up, I was $36 short of filling my $1,000 permit. We headed to New Jersey for a permit race to go for our last shot at filling it and to attend the award ceremony.
The morning of the divisional circuit finals and permit race, I saddled Suede up and went back to my trailer to get ready myself. As I was walking, I had a seizure (I’m epileptic). I was rendered unconscious and cracked my jaw and face on the pavement. When I came to, another girl had seen it happen and I asked her to get me back to my trailer so nobody would see me. I was incredibly shaken up and in a ton of pain. Apparently, after she left me in my trailer, she went to the arena and got some of my fellow competitors. These women rushed to my trailer, got me cleaned up and finished getting Suede ready. I was determined to make my run and I trusted Suede to get me through the run safe, sound and fast.
Sure enough, I got on him — tunnel vision, nauseated and just a little out of it. He was antsy as usual and wanting to go, so my friend, Wendy, was leading us around. I had to keep my head down because my face was a bloody wreck, and if anyone told my circuit director, she would’ve made me scratch. When my name was called for being in the hole, she looked at me and asked if I was sure I wanted to do it. I told her yes and she replied, “If you’re going to do it, ride like hell,” and she flung Suede down the alley. I only remember that run because of videos. We ended up placing second and finished third out of all the permit girls. He’s given me so much and I trust him completely.
James Lockhart — Oklahoma
No Benchwarmers Here.
When I was 5 years old, I had my sixth ear surgery. My left ear kind of grew back half-cockeyed from all the times it was basically cut off when they did surgery on the ear. I wasn’t supposed to go swimming or take any hard knocks to the head because of my bad ear. That was a hard pill to swallow for a boy growing up in the hills and hollers of southeast Oklahoma. I played little league baseball, but I was kind of a benchwarmer. I would get a little dizzy sometimes, and I think my coach was afraid I’d get hurt. I hated it when my buddies got to play and I sat on the bench. I can remember being given a trophy one time and telling dad I didn’t deserve it — I never played an inning.
My great uncle, Clarence Haynes, had a small ranch that joined the Ouachita National Forest. I began spending time with him during the summer months when school was out. He had horses and he let me ride them. He also hosted trail rides during the spring and summer. Before long, I was helping him clear the trails and make new ones. For whatever reason, the horseback riding helped with my dizziness. I still had dizzy spells, but they became less and less intense. Uncle Clarence taught me how to swing a rope on those long days clearing trails. I’d rope the brush and drag it out of the way. My first roping dummy was made from scrap lumber and a crooked stick of firewood. One summer, after a few years of clearing trails with him, Uncle Clarence put on a junior rodeo at his house. I entered all the roping events. I won the ribbon roping. From that day on, I was hooked.
I won second in the breakaway at the first indoor arena I ever roped in. My mom and dad didn’t have a tractor, so when I built a practice arena behind the house, I had to disc my roping arena with an old rototiller my grandpa gave me. I went to college on rodeo scholarships and was the vice president of the Oklahoma State University rodeo team.
I met my wife in college when I was called to shoe her horses. We’ve been married over 20 years and our kids have grown up on the back of a horse as well. Both of our children love horses. They were kind of like me — not quite starters on the ball teams, and, like me, they didn’t like being benchwarmers. They, too, chose the way of the horse. We’ve been fortunate — my daughter’s barrel horse and my son’s calf roping horse were both ridden at the National Finals Rodeo before we got them. Both horses were well past their prime, but they’ve been great coaches for my kids. Both kids have had a lot of success in the arena. There’s no benchwarmers at a rodeo, playday or even a trail ride.
This evening, as I was brushing my horse, I realized everything I have is because of a horse — my wife and kids, my college degree, even my job. There’s something about a the smell of a horse, the creak of a good saddle and knowing you can trust your horse to do its job completely. The National Day of the Horse is December 13, 2022. Let’s not ever forget what these magical creatures do for us.
