RIDE EM COWBOY

Korero (AEWS), Volume 2, Issue 20, 9 October 1944, Page 27

RIDE EM COWBOY

A good tough game of Rugby is enjoyable, and ice-hockey, they say, is fast, but for sheer concentrated excitement and thrills give me the hurricane-deck of a thoroughly roused cattle-pony. There’s more action packed into sixty seconds of such experience than sixty minutes of anything else. The usual “ Western ” thriller, when it includes, as it almost invariably does, an account of taming an “ outlaw,” gives the impression that it is a pitched battle of unbridled ferocity between horse and rider for an hour or so. The picture needs toning down. Although a bucking horse indulges in some weird contortions, they only last in their intensity for about a minute as a rule. Even outlaws must breathe, and between each fierce bout the “ bad ’un ” spends his time in harmless pig-jumps. Then when he has got his wind he will get back to business. The whole affair will last about twenty minutes to half an hour.

For mustering sheep and cattle in New Zealand a horse is indispensable, and so there is still plenty of horse-breaking. There are the regular horse-breakers who go the round of the big sheep and cattle stations each spring and “ bust ” the

unbroken horses. On a big station the horse-breaker will stay three months, perhaps. Two horses a week, sometimes less, is his rate, and when he has handled, bitted, and mouthed them for three days, and ridden them for another one, they are turned over to the shepherds to ride. They still need to be taught paces and manners—canter, trot, and, above all, walk. Riding after, and cutting out, cattle will teach them to answer the reins, and waiting by gates will give them patience. Many of them resent their newly found servitude and buck at unexpected moments. All of which adds to the “ shepherd’s sweet lot.” Many shepherds break in their own ponies, and their method is an abbreviated and rough-and-ready copy of the horse-breaker’s. Sunday being the one free day on a station, the shepherd will run his pony in before breakfast, and afterwards rope it. Then during the morning he handles it, puts on a bridle with a mouthing bit, and, before lunch, gets on its accoutrements —saddle, breastplate, and crupper. Round the yard prances and minces the animal, wondering what the blazes has happened. After lunch a little more handling, and, finally, with the help of a couple of friends, the hectic side of the business. Horse and rider, as the cavalry-sergeant said to the recruit when he gave him a freshlybroken horse to ride, have got to find each other out. The rider’s pals squat on the rails of the horse-yard and watch the fun. If the rider is any good, the pony soon knows its master and “ packs up.” It is a superficial method of breaking in, and the pony will try at odd intervals during the following week to “ dump ” its burden, and after a spell in the open paddock will make a determined effort. If the rider is thrown, it is a more difficult business next time, for the animal has tasted power. Another couple of falls, and unless someone is there ready to show the pony his mistake, an outlaw is in the making.

A horse does not buck until it sees the man on its back, and feels his weight, and fear and ignorance bid him strive to rid himself of the unaccustomed encumbrance. Once the animal loses its fear it will not bother to buck. If plenty of time is taken with the preliminary handling, the first shock is lessened. With this in mind, but without the time, some owners tie a large sack securely in the saddle,

and let the pony work off its first energy on that. All these methods are short cuts, however, and a horse broken this way will buck when it has the chance until the fire of youth is out of its veins. The shepherd approaches the task in a dual spirit. To him the pony is a necessity and a means of earning a livelihood, and the breaking in is a commercial venture as well as a trial of riding skill. A pony which thinks it is boss is a confounded nuisance, and liable to buck at the wrong moment. So the shepherd takes precautions. A colonial stock saddle is the most favoured. Some use the Mexican type, but not many. The horn on the pommel is dangerous if the pony falls or goes so far as to roll. Stirrups are tied under the horse’s belly. This gives purchase and grip for the knees, and, incidentally, means that the feet will come clear if you are thrown. A “ monkey,” a strap looped several times through the dees on the pommel of the saddle, is fitted on. That completes the preparations for the

fray. Some make assurance doubly sure by strapping a surcingle over their thighs and round the horse’s barrel. These are the “ bushies ” and “ sailors ” on horse back who have no idea of riding, but simply mean to stick there by brute force. And if a shepherd graduates in that school and fancies his chances, he can try a hand at riding the outlaws at the agricultural shows which are held in every district in the spring-time. He will have a monkey, but no stirrups, and a halter and reins instead of bridle. Then, if he can ride, is the chance to show it. Not brute force, but balance and skill, will keep him in the saddle. And if he wants to learn how it’s done, let him visit the circus next time it comes round, and watch a rider of the calibre of “ Snowy ” Thomson. With a sack across the horse’s back, and another rolled up across his withers and only a halter on his mount he’s there for good, no matter what trick the outlaw pulls. “ Oh, stay a very long time, cowboy ! ”