You know what I love? Old cowboys. I don't know what I would do without them. Yesterday I went out to the Randals' to play with my pony and when I got there I had to go in and tell my father (who was doing some technical work for them) that he can't leave without me. While I was in the house, Al, (the "ol' cowboy" in this story) asked me what I was gonna be doing that day. I just told him that I thought maybe I would put Tango to work hauling some oats with the calf sled from the grain bins, across the yard, to the barn. It would let me practice working with the rope and Tango got to do something new.
Al, in all his wisdom (and I am NOT being sarcastic (seriously I'm not)) suggested that I make sure Tango was comfortable with me roping off of him, he also reminded me to make sure I did two dallies and kept my thumb up, out of harm's way.
So we got saddled up and I found an old rope and led Tango to the driveway. I swung it over his head from the ground and ran it over his back end. He stood there with not a care in the world, except for what the other two horses were doing at the moment. Since he was so relaxed I got up in the saddle and swung the rope a couple of times while he stood there, then I let it drag on the ground as we walked and had it bumping against his legs. He took it all like the pro that he is. Then it all went downhill from there.
When I got down from Tango to tie the calf sled to my rope a moment of pure genius, and foresight struck me, almost as if God had reached down from heaven and smacked some sense into me. I realized that it was possible my horse had never seen a calf sled before. Let alone be worried about a rope he may be spooky around things that slid across the ground behind him. And wouldn't you know it when I brought it out his head shot up from where he was nicely ground tied (meaning his reins weren't fastened but in theory he shouldn't go anywhere, in theory). He took one look at that "Massey Ferguson" red (more like "OLD Massey Ferguson" red, not that it matters since John Deere is better;) and turned tail and took off at a very determined "I'm getting out of here" plod.
Sighing, I caught him and tried to get him to follow me, thinking to myself that, "Tango trusts me pretty good, he should follow me and everything will be A-O-Kay," or so I thought. That horse threw his head up in the air and did the prettiest sidepass I ever did see. All of it, just to get away from that gosh darned sled.
Finally I got him to stand really still beside it. He stood there and licked his lips and I thought he would be okay with it after that, boy was I wrong. I took his reins in one hand and the calf sled rope in the other and started walking. Well Tango swung his royal, red, shedding bulk around me so he could walk with his eye on the "enemy" and his shoulder making a beeline for the furthest point from the "red monster". He calmed down a little after a while so we stopped and walked around the sled and stood quietly for a while.
It went on for about half an hour until I got an idea, it came so suddenly that I was a hundred and two percent sure that there was a little lightbulb flashing above my cowboy hat (to my disappointment there wasn't). I thought to myself, "What does Tango love more than me?" and it really isn't as hard a question to answer as I'd like it to be, but the answer is inevitable, "Food, more specifically: oats."
I left Tango where he was, standing calmly with his reins hanging into the sled. He stood fairly well though and I was proud of him for being such a big boy, but when I got back out of the barn with a buck et full bribes in the bottom, he was standing at the door, waiting for me. I guess the sled was just too scary for him to stay with.
We walked back to the sled and I placed the oats in the bottom. Tango, who had been following the bucket, stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at me and I could have sworn that horse raised an eyebrow in suspicion. With a wicked grin I picked up the rope and started walking, dragging the sled behind me. Tango put his head down and inched forward after me, when he got close to the sled I would stop, and he'd find that scary so he'd back up. I'd start walking again and he'd continue to follow me. Finally he put his nose into the sled to reach for the oats and I stopped. I let him munch for a while before walking again, and he followed. Finally I stopped and dropped the rope.
Swinging one arm over his neck I gave Tango a good scratch along the edge of his mane. He munched and licked his lips, and thought about what was going on. Then when he was done he turned to the lariat in the bottom of the sled and nuzzled it, then grabbed the end and picked it up. He stood there, holding it in his mouth, then he saw some deer on the road so he dropped the rope and watched them for a while.
With a cheek splitting grin I picked up Tango's reins and led him back to the barn, he had done good enough for the time being, and I had learned a new lesson, next time I thought everything was going to be all alright I needed to talk to an "ol' cowboy" and think on it a little more.
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