The Wandering Equestrian : Back in the saddle again

So I suppose the old name fits again. This past summer I decided I wanted to be a wrangler on a dude ranch. Because the highlight of my summers growing up was to do a 50 mile trail ride in Montana on a dude ranch.

So I applied to places, did several phone interviews and eventually got a job at a ranch in Colorado. Not my number one choice, but top five. Hooray! So I signed the dotted line, got all my stuff ready (wranglers have very specific wardrobe requirements that I needed to find- such as button down western shirts with yolkes, chaps or chinks, cowboy hats- felt or straw, wrangler jeans. The wrangler jeans and I had a problem, because my ass does not fit in them. At all.) anyway, I packed my car and drove out west. To work at a place I'd never seen before with people I'd barely talked to. Let's face it, it isn't exactly the first time I've done that. At least here if it sucked I could just drive home.

The drive was tedious (Kansas you suck to drive through), I split it into two parts. As soon as I got to the ranch I started unpacking my stuff. I was to share a small room with the other incoming female wrangler. The part the owner did not let me know was, *surprise!* we'd be moving into the bunkhouse (above the barn)... where the male wrangler had lived for the last year or so. Alright, I thought to myself, I lived in a co-ed dorm. I can deal with this fine. And in truth, it wasn't the fact that he was male that made it awkward, it was more the fact that he'd been living there by himself and suddenly he's got two new flat mates invading his space. And it was his space- except for our room, it was covered in his stuff. The other new wrangler wouldn't be there for another week or so. Also he was just kind of an awkward person.

The kind of person who has to know something more than you about everything and wants you to know it. For example: We had a disagreement about salting water or putting a drop of olive oil in for cooking pasta. He said my 'Italian grandmother would be ashamed of me'. I replied with 'Actually Franca did this in Italy when she cooked and it was awesome.' Nope. He'd read that real Italians didn't do that. My response to that was.... which of us had actually lived in Italy? (I say a month counts.) Nope. Still didn't believe me.

Anyway, he showed me around the ranch and told me which things were "suggestions" and which weren't, which was nice of him. I met the ranch hand/ sometimes child wrangler and his wife. (His wife is lovely, but i clashed with him a bit) And I did barn maintenance and clean up before the season started. Tried to learn the trails- which, in case you were wondering; the easiest way to learn a new trail is NOT to lead it for the first time. It's to follow and then try leading.

Ah, but TT you say, talk about the horses, that's the good bit!

They had their own breeding program (it was part of why I chose this ranch) and most of the horses were either palomino or buckskins. With few to no markings. Let me tell you how much fun learning all 50 names of horses that look very alike was. For example, we had a pair of full sibling buckskin mares, same height, same build, same everything, except one had a sock on her left hind leg and one had a sock on the right hind leg. One had a slightly crooked nose. Now go out into this huge pasture and catch only the second one! Naturally they're at opposite ends of the pasture, so you'd better hope you pick the right way!

But the program was nice because the horses were bred and raised there for the most part.

This little goober was born the day before I got there. How cute is she?!

They had a nice stallion, good mares and a good training program with a professional trainer. Who I am sad to say I barely got to work with. He was great. Horses were started halter breaking and ground work from young foals. They're exposed to the guests as babies as well. The one above was so friendly, she'd happily leave her momma to come see people. Then they're left to grow up for a couple of years, before the trainer starts them at 3. Then his assistant rides them, then the wranglers ride them, and eventually the guests ride them at about 6-8. Hopefully. My steeds of choice were 7-9 year old mares who made good wrangler horses, but not so good guest horses. Of course I like a quick, sensitive and well trained mare, so it worked out great for me. Each wrangler got an assigned colt, and some other projects.

Project one: the mare I rode most of the summer.

My first week there the male wranglers were giving me shit for not being able to open and close the different gates without dismounting. (Hey, it's not something I have to do...ever.)

"Oh your horse is really good at opening them!" They said.

So I felt like a failure. It wasn't until a couple of weeks after I'd mastered them that they finally told me they were lying and my horse actually sucked with opening gates. Thanks boys, you're a peach. By the end I was one of the only ones who could open and shut the big double wooden gates without getting off.. that took some serious maneuvering. So ha.

Project two: the one I wish I'd rode most of the summer. Not that I didn't like the first one, but this little girl had such a beautiful handle on her. And she was super easy to pick out of the herd.

One of my "colts". It's a good thing he's pretty.... I wanted him because he was gorgeous. (And he had an amazing canter- I'm talking prince charming coming to rescue the damsel in distress amazing.)

Full brothers, both are sweet and will make good guest horses... Because both of them are dumber than rocks. The trainer said this line of brothers (the third was already a guest horse) made him wonder if he knew anything at all about training, because they were just so hard to teach.

Basically my least favorite type of horse to ride.

The second "colt" had been held back due to an injury. He'd already been a wrangler horse but needed some more saddle time. In my opinion, stick a guest on him because he's good to go unless he's leading. But never in my life, and this includes Europe's warmbloods, have a ridden a trot as bad as his. The worst trot ever. No guest will ever be able to ride it. There is NO sitting it. If the bronc riding trainer couldn't really sit it.....

So my first time trotting on him we got part way around the arena... before I stopped him with a look of horror on my face. 'What is this hell?!' I complained to the other wranglers. They told me it wasn't *that* bad. So I had the guy get on first. He made it about 45 feet before stopped and started laughing so hard he had to dismount, So then the female wrangler got on, 30 feet in she stopped, laughed and said "Oh yeah, you're screwed." It was that bad.

So I talked to the trainer and our conversation went like this:

"He has the worst trot ever, is there any way to make it better?"

"Did you try collecting him?"

"Yes."

"Posting?"

"Yes."

"Didn't help, did it?"

"No!"

"You want my advice?"

"Yes!"

"...... lope."

I hear you now in your heads- this sounds like the dream though! You get paid to ride horses all day in beautiful country! Make no mistake, it was beautiful and nestled in the start of the rocky mountains.