With the Olympic in mind...

Here is a repeat of 2005, I post this with the equestrian of the Olympics in mind
Probably should be titled.. how I never made it to the Olympics.


Thursday, June 30, 2005

BUCKY
Where do I start? I have thought this over in my head
and now to try to put it down on paper so to speak, how do I write
it?
My mother was a horsewoman. A true blue horsewoman . You know the
type. She live and breathe horses. When sh erode horseback, she was part
of the horse. No matter what kind, American SaddleBred, 5 gaited or
jumpers. They were all one - she and the horse. I think in all of my
mothers life she was happiest on a horse. I, on the other hand, was the
greatest frustration for my mother, especially when you mixed me and
horses. I loved horses, don't get me wrong. Just I didn't jive as
well. They told me for years how at the age(of no fear) 3, that we
had a horse that was a barn rat. It always ran back to the barn. Sometimes
I could turn this horseback around before it got to the barn. Othertimes
the horse made it in to the barn,but within seconds the horse shot out
of the barn and back to the ring with me still on and at the reins. That
was at 3. It made my mother so proud and she would brag to friends.
Somewhere between 3 and 8, I guess I became horse stupid. As there
was a time I was taken to a show and put in aclass. I don't know what
happen in that class, but I ended up in tears and cried to get out of the
class. Which my mother lead me out and back to the trailer with her head
hung low. MARY RICHARDSON'S DAUGHTER CRYING TO GET OUT OF A CLASS?
How mortifying . She didn't retell that story, only the end of how
embarrassing it was.At about 10, a mouse colored gray with black mane
and tail, and a single black stripe from mane to tail - pony arrived at our
place. Mom gave him the show name of Mighty Mouse. He ended up with the
stable name of BUCKY, which he came by honestly. Bucky was to become my
show pony. So in the Spring, he and I started out. The practice was to
be 2 times around the ring at a walk. 2 times around the ring at a trot. 2
times around the ring at a canter. Then reverse on the ring. Same process.
We started out ok. The walk went fine. The ring was oblong. One end near
the barn. We trotted ok. Then at the top of the ring we were to start to
canter. Which Bucky did about 7 steps - bucked me off and headed
across the ring to the barn and stopped at the gate. I picked myself
up and went back to the gate and got Bucky. I got back on and back around
we went and I was bucked off again. I went back to Bucky to arrive at the
same time as my mother .Who was watching from the dining room window. My
mother was a tough task maker when it came to horse riding lessons. I got
a tongue lashing for letting go of the reins. NEVER EVER LET GO OF THE
REINS. A lesson that is still drilled in my head. Bucky and I were
dispatched back out to the ring. I was bucked off again. Another lecture
about staying on. I did keep the reins. And was dragged. Bucky also got a
lesson from Mom. After several tries, Bucky and I decided we better
stick it out together. With a few exceptions, Bucky and I got along so
to speak for the summer. Then from October to April our only contact was
feeding, stall cleaning and brushing daily. Which Bucky took in stride.
Then came Spring. Where Bucky would buck again and Bucky and I would go
through Mom's wrath and lectures to becoming one again. This was our
yearly ritual.Then one summer Mom decided we would become jumpers.
She had Holy Smoke. Jumping Champion of R.I. and Southern New England for
5 straight years. She would train Bucky and I. We started out ok. Mom put
up 1 foot jumps. And we took that in stride. The next day 2 foot jumps. Then
we had the pro jumps with crossed bars, which was 2 feet. We did those. It
was fun Bucky and I decided. The next day was 3 feet. It looked bigger as
it was straight across bars. With much apprehension we galloped up to it -
and we made it over.. 2 days later she went to 3 feet 6. Now I know 6
inches isn't that big of a deal, except when you are galloping up to it. On
a pony. Well, I guess Bucky thought it looked bigger too, as we galloped
up there, he decided to go under it. Leaving me with the bar on my hands
for at least 10 feet before we got rid of it. So Mom put one set of crossed
bars and one straight. We made it over. Well, kind of. When we went over,
there was so much space between Bucky and I, you could throw a dog
through. But we got to the other side, mostly together. I was still
sitting in the saddle - mostly. My mother's face was of surprise and shaking
her head. She gave me a quick lesson of how to lean forward to the neck of
the horse (pony in this case) to lift my hind end up slightly. So we did a
few more. I don't know how Bucky felt but to me that jump didn't get any
smaller. Mom felt good about it as the next day, after a few more -
she raise the jump to 4 feet!!! Well, off we galloped. The closer we got,
the more I hated that jump. I guess Bucky did too, as he skidded to a
stop. With me on his neck.
Mom said take a 20 foot or so more for the lead
into the jump. So we went back and around the top of the ring. Off we went,
around the corner and down towards the jump. Mom was closer to the jump
this time. What the heck is she doing, I thought. We were almost to
the jump - I hate this jump. And Mom let out yell that scared the hell out
of Bucky and I and we made it over. I don't know about Bucky but my heart
had had it. We came around and she said go again. So we galloped up again.
And I was saying PLEASE Bucky get me over this jump. I hate this jump.
Well, He must have heard me as he got me over that jump!! HE didn't go.
He planted all four in to the ground and I sailed across and down on to
the ground JUST in time to spook Bucky who put it into reverse. AND OF
COURSE, I am still hanging on to those REINS and so the jump and I come back
at him. 30 feet later Bucky, in blessing, came to a stop. I now have
dirt in my eyes and mouth, my shirt. I have been banged on the jump bars and
holder. AND MY MOTHER SAYS - GET BACK ON. -- YEA, RIGHT. No way.
But then I remember the saying. Hell has no fury, as that of a woman's scorn, but
even worse is my mother's. I got back on. I am shaking. Bucky is shaking. We
gallop up and it is skid city. Bucky wants no part of this and neither do
I. So she gets on and she races him around the corner and over they
go. She goes around again. And over the jump she went. NOT Bucky.
But Mom did. End of lesson for the day. The next day we were back to
3 feet 6. Sometimes Bucky felt up to it and sometimes he didn't. I had been
under, over AND through those jumps. I was sick of it. Finally Mom gave up
us being champion jumping pony partners.

As the years went on Bucky and I went on to be great friends. I could take
him out to the big field and we would play Gene Autry or some other western star.
Up and down the little ridges. And then we would relax. I would put on a halter and off we would go. I would lay on his back as he ate, and I would make things
out of the clouds as they floated by. We had a big nursery across
the highway, that Bucky and I would go to and down to the creek and have a
picnic. I use to be able to stand on his back and ride across the field.
Got my brother up there too. But he fell and somehow land on my foot as I
came down too. I was in a cast for weeks. Then in 1955 I rode Bucky to
a friends house across the island and we rode around. I was late getting
back and was walking Bucky to cool him down and Mom was mad. April
5th. there was a trailer in the driveway. I wonder what horse Mom was
getting now. We weren't. They were loading Bucky. It was my 15th birthday.
I never got to say good-by. It took 20 years for me to get close to horses
and my mother again.
Teen years are hell on parents and teens alike. I had a few horses of my own.
Rode a few that belong to others. But now I see a
horse and I can understand how an old truck driver feels when he sees a
semi truck go by. You sure miss them but you can't afford them anymore. And
don't have the room to ride them anymore.

For those of you who do. Bless you, my spirit rides with you.
And from a woman point of view and maybe guys
too. There is nothing like a horses neck to rap your arms around and have
a good cry, when things go bad.
May God always have room on earth for horses to roam.

And that is why I never made it to the Olympic's... lol