The True Story

A guest post by Blair Stringam

Shammy. And humanoids.

Did you ever think about something that you did in the past and wonder “what was I thinking?”

If you have then we understand each other.

If you haven't then I guess you have your ducks all in a row.

I don’t.

My sister has told this story to you before, but I need to set the record straight . . .

When I was a wee lad of 5 years, summer on the ranch was a daily adventure. There were lots of places to explore, frogs to catch at the river, horses to ride, chickens to watch (they were very strange) and barns to explore. 

But one thing I was not allowed to do. Accompany my two older sisters on trail rides. 

The epitome of fun. The ultimate in summer adventures.

For everyone  but me.

And so I pestered.

I pestered until one day they finally relented and allowed me to follow them. And even more exciting? My sisters decided that we were not only going on a trail ride but we were going to have a picnic as well. I was beyond ecstatic.

I was to ride my horse Shammy, a very fat, very quiet, very gentle welsh pony that dad had given to me on my 3^rd birthday.

We saddled our horses. Well, my sisters saddled the horses. I couldn't reach up high enough to pull the cinch tight.

We climbed aboard and headed out across the river with my sisters leading the way. Just after we crossed, we picked up a cattle trail that followed, first the river, then a fence line up a steep embankment. 

I should note here: When fences follow steep embankments there are often high and low spots. Now, placing fence posts in the high and low spots is not a problem in itself, but when you string tight wires between said posts, it tends to pull the lower ones out of the ground. There are clever things that ranchers do to try to stop this but sometimes the posts have minds of their own.

Illustration by Blair.

Back to my story . . .

One of the posts in the fence we were following had pulled out of the ground and was hanging over the trail.

Chris rode by and ducked under the post. I watched her do this. Then Diane rode by and ducked under the post. I watched her do that as well.

Then I rode up to the post.

And didn't.

I don't know why.

It hit me (or I hit it) square on my forehead and I was peeled off the back of my horse.  I landed in a heap and began to cry.

I was mad and I was not going to be consoled even though my sisters were being very kind and soothing. Then (I think in desperation) Chris finally said, “Look at Shammy.  She thinks you are being silly.” 

I looked up at Shammy, who was standing just a few feet ahead.

She was looking back at me with a very puzzled expression on her face.

I was suddenly embarrassed and stopped crying immediately. A cowboy has to tough when he is around his horse.

I climbed back up, hoping that Shammy wouldn’t remember my moment of weakness.

We resumed our trail ride, had our picnic and went home.

Another note: Maybe Shammy didn't remember, but my sisters obviously did. 

It was a long time before I was allowed to go on a trail ride again.