Life out here on this cattle ranch has been nothing short of amazing. The mountains can block the sky sometimes, and the rolling fields stretch as far as the eye can see. It’s the kind of place that makes you feel free, like you’re part of something bigger.
The ranch horses here are tough—real tough. Almost too tough. They’ve been doing this work their whole lives, and it shows. I’ve been keeping up just fine, or at least I thought I was, until today.
We were out searching for cows when one calf broke away from the herd and disappeared into the woods. I picked up his scent in no time, knew exactly where he’d gone. Just when I thought I had him, a loud crash split the air—thunder, maybe a branch falling—I couldn’t say. I’m not the biggest fan of loud noises. My original owner didn’t take the time to ease me into them properly, so sometimes they still get the better of me.
Before I knew it, I’d reared up, spooked clean out of my senses. The cow hand riding me wasn’t quite the bronco-buster he thought he was and took a tumble. The calf bolted, and I was ready to go after it, but the cow hand stopped me, acting like I was going to run off. He was none too happy and walked me back to the barn.
The other horses didn’t say much, but I could tell they weren’t too happy about how things went. I get it—this work is serious business. But one mistake doesn’t mean anything. Tomorrow’s another chance to prove myself, and I don’t plan on letting anyone down. That’s the cow horse way.
Happy trails, everyone.
—Amigo