Slim pickin’

Tall, dark and handsome. Fit his name: Slim. Your mother would have approved.

A swagger worthy of John Wayne’s Hollywood. Him saying’ stuff like “Shucks, Ma’am” only sounded normal.

One so with such unquestionable trustworthiness, Mom would say,” Honey, rope that one!”

Never a problem when we asked the grownups on the porch if it was OK to go find him.

“If you can catch him, you can ride him. Sure, go ahead”

And they would laugh to themselves knowing we’d be busy for quite a while.

“It ain’t right, I tell you. You out there and us tied up with chores.Lassie would know what to do.”(USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)

Slim was the boss cattle horse at the farm. He knew what he was about.

He always pretended not to see the pack of kids headed his way with the halter.

We always had a plan of attack cornering him – stealthy like Indians circling the wagon train.

We knew he’d never run us down, but he knew just when to gather himself up and slide between waving arms.

Then you’ve never has been seen a more beautiful high-stepping trot: flowing tail held high with head proudly up topped by alert sculptured ears. Few fine gaited show horses could match his elegance. All natural without gait training boots or lines. Unusual for a horse greatly skilled in cattle work.

With a twinkle in his eye he gave us the horse laugh. Dodging this way and that.

Eventually Dad or an uncle would appear with a bucket of feed and a wordless call at which point Slim would give in, walk calmly to the barn to be saddled up…with only a little puffing up so you had to tighten up the girth a second time. Like he was smirking at us, “You don’t expect me to give up my leisure time too easily do you?”

“No we are not going across the way to pick dew berries. That bucket of feed only buys you so much riding time.” (USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)

Everyone around knew how intelligent Slim was. Smarter than kids and plenty of men.

He knew what he was about – easily measuring who was in the saddle.

There are pictures of me as a toddler in front of my dad in the saddle with hands gleefully woven into Slim’s mane. Another photo has four grubby barefooted kids of assorted heights draped over him as he stately stood.

Put a cowboy on him and he’d shift into cutting horse gear. Cows just gave up when Slim showed up.

Apparently he and the men had discussed the perimeter the kids were permitted to ride.

Inside the fences pastures he was pretty amenable to wandering anywhere, but outside the property’s fence, he was always calculating distances.

It was like there was an invisible line in the sand: just this far and no more. Slim would just halt a certain point, look around for some tasty greens to eat while totally ignoring the mad windmilling on his back until he was bored at which point he’d turn around going back the way he came. No matter the protests.

Once Older Brother and I were trotting down the sandy road – approaching the shut down zone at the edge of the property – when Older Brother whispered, “Hang on. I’m gonna make him go on to the store so we can get a coke.”

We gathered speed – past a trot. Actually past a trot! It was happening. We’d break the jinx. Older Brother seeing the corner fence post, gave Slim a mighty kick and a whoop.

At which point we would have flown over the horse’s head if he had lowered it. Slim didn’t even bother to pause, but simply spun around and speedily, cheerfully delivered us back at the front porch.

As I was shoved off, I was given that 5 fingered warning that the incident was never to be mentioned.

I swear the horse was chuckling to himself.

“Yes just down there. Not far. The little stores and ice-cold cokes!”  But we weren’t flyin’.(USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)

When Slim was over 30 yrs, he was retired from the heavy cattle work.

He didn’t mind retirement. Slim knew what he was about.

Enjoyed leisure time unlike that gorgeous paint horse which had to be sold because he was such a workaholic that he was cutting calves from the herd during off hours in the pasture. Skinny cattle don’t bring much at auction which is a problem if cattle paid the bills.

Slim settled in with a few grey hairs on his muzzle and a delighted spring in his step.

It was odd late one dreary, miserable winter afternoon when all the other animals showed up to the barn for dinner, but Slim wasn’t there. 

Watching the fading light, uncle pulled on all the warm clothes available and started walking the pasture.

Startled a few deer in the brush before he spotted Slim: standing perfectly still in the grey drizzle.

Slim saw him and did that flip the head up “Hey, over here” thing, but didn’t move a muscle.

Fearing the horse had injured an ankle or leg, uncle hurried over as Slim nodded a couple of times, “I knew if I waited, you’d come.”

Once beside Slim, it was obvious who the problem was: the horse had stumbled into a tangle of barbed wire thoughtlessly left behind by someone.

Now most horses would have torn themselves up fighting to get free, but Slim was not most horses. He just stood perfectly still and waited. Hardly a scratch on him once released. Even Trigger or Fury couldn’t have been smarter.

That old horse lived a long time even after that – seems like another 10 + years or so.

He picked a nice grassy spot on a slope to finally lay down. And he was left right there.

Uncles said “It’s where he wanted to be. Wouldn’t have felt right dumping dirt on him. Slim always liked to be out in the open where he could see the stars.”

Slim was a horse who knew what he was about.

A difficult cow pony to follow.

Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.

Ever notice that no matter how animated the Hollywood star is, the horse looks totally bored. It’s like “Ok, job done. Check, please.” (USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)

 

---

Discover more from Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge

Subscribe to get the latest posts to your email.