THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF KEITH MALCOLM HUNT
The first summer of 1961 at the horse ranch was quite the teaching experience. I’ve told you that Gord’s working with horses was the best I’ve ever seen from anyone. What he didn’t know and didn’t do, you could put in a match box and throw it in the lake.
His ranch was first a general riding stable— people came to go out and ride; some came for trail rides, they were limited horse riding people; some came to learn how to ride a horse; young guys came to run up and down the trails. I and some other regular lads took out the ones for trail rides. We had small little ponies for small little kids——leading them around, getting their first experience on the back of a pony, which to them looked big.
People boarded their horses with Gord, another way to have money coming in.
Gord bought and sold horses——many never being touched by human hands——the real true wild ones, and they are way different to handle and to break; but Gord showed us young bucks every way possible to break a horse, from the fast way [in a bucking shoot], slap a saddle on and let them go till the buck is all out of them.
Then you had the slowest way to break a horse; slow, slow, and more slow. Getting the horse to trust you; letting you brush it; putting a saddle blanket on, then a saddle, then slowly tightening the cinch.
There were still methods of breaking after that was done; tie the left front leg [fet-lock area] with a strong soft rope, to the saddle horn; get up and down in the saddle many time, a horse can’t buck on three legs. Or you hitch up a broken horse and snub it close to the one your breaking, it gives that horse some peace of mind and assurance.
Gord taught us how to lay a horse on the ground—- he’d say, “When you have a horse in this position, and you sit on its neck, he knows YOU are the boss, not him.”
He taught us how to throw a lariat around the back legs of a horse that’s moving.
We learnt the way to stay on a bucking horse—— one hand on the horn of the saddle and the other hand rapped around strong leather strips you try your sleeping blanket to when going over-night. After learning that I never came off a bucking horse again.
On my own I bought a Farrier book, studied it well, and from then on I could trim my horse’s feet, and became skilled at it; trimmed many a horse and never had a lame one. I did not learn how to shoe a horse, scared of those nails—but Gord knew how to shoe and did it when he saw a horse needing it.
He had the expertise of what saddle fit what horse, and what bit was for which horse. He had a variety of them—— some regular snaffle; some tom-thumb; some straight bit; some rubber bit; some curb bit, and some no bit at all, they were in a hackamore.
Gord’s ranch was close to a cattle stock farm; now and again they would phone him to have him come on his horse and lasso the long horn cattle, or whatever their breed was that “got loose.” He’d be off on his roping horse to do what needed to be done.
Gord also bred some of his mares to a stallion he had, and that horse was off limits to everyone but himself. So we always had two or three foals each year; it was fun getting to know them and they knowing us; they are inquisitive creature and will not be afraid of you, but come to you to check you out. Over a couple of years being around humans there was not one bit of trouble to break them for riding— easy as putting on your cowboy boots.
I was out one day before anyone else arrived, it was Saturday morning. Margaret said to me, “Keith, our Daisy mare cannot deliver her foal, Gord wants you to help him, at the stable, he’s there now, waiting for you.”
I thought what on earth can I do, I know nothing about trying to bring a foal into the world—- well a huge experience I was about to get.
Gord puts his arm inside this mare, in about ten seconds he pulls his arm out and in his hand are something six inches long; I was stunned as to what was going on, I’d never seen even any photos of a foal being born. Gord takes the rope he had in his other hand and with both hands ties it around this six inch of whatever it was [it was the legs of the foal], then he turns to me and says, “Okay Keith I want you to pull with me; ready….pull!”
We pulled out this foal—— it was a “she”—— in a minute or so it was sucking its Mom’s teats. I was amazed!
Everything was just fine, Mom and baby—— that foal grew up to be the sweetest filly; breaking her at two years of age was easy as easy can be. She became part of the string of horses for the trail rides we did with people.
I worked for Gord that summer.
I helped him build his new stable, so that was interesting wood-work, and shingling the roof was new to me, but not very hard.
He called his ranch “Buckhorn Stables.” I painted a lettered sign in red and white, on some wood about 8 feet long— Buckhorn Stables—— then we nailed it above the stable door.
He had this old one horse buggy; I painted it red and white; and he taught me how to harness a horse into it; I would then often ride around the stable land in this now lovely red and white buggy.
I was getting good experience at trimming my horse’s feet, as well as some of Gord’s horses and ponies.
He would still be buying and selling; buying these wild horses never touched by human hands. He taught us how to halter break them with a lariat nerve line. You take a lariat put the loop around its head at the back of the ears, then down and around the top of the nose area. It now acts as nerve line; when a horse pulls back and it tightens he is held like being frozen stiff. As the horse moves a tiny bit forward the pressure is released. If he pulls back again the whole process begins once more. Within about 3/4 of an hour you are leading this horse around. Then you begin to slowly get closer and closer to this wild horse. After a few days of this you are finally up to its head and neck; the horse is no long petrified of you. You then eventually reach out to put your hand on its neck; then eventually on its head, stroking it slowly and speaking soft words to it.
Everything from there is slow and easy, when breaking a wild horse, real slow and easy. After you get the fright of the horse out of itself, you body brush. When the horse is now fully calm around you, has accepted you as a friend and not the enemy to eat it up, you continue with the slow and easy breaking, using all the methods Gord taught us.
Ya now and again we’d do it old cowboy style—— ride the buck out of the horse.
One day the boys my age and a few older guys said to me, “Keith you have to come to this rodeo on the Indian Reservation; yep you gotta come.”
So being still naive I went to it.
One of the first events was to pair up with another cowboy, one had the lariat the other the saddle. The horses, tame ones, were all crowded into a good size corral where they and us could move about feely. We were to lasso a horse and put the saddle on. Well I had the lariat—— this was the first time for me to throw it on a horse—— to my amazement my very first throw went over the horses head and down its neck. I think more luck than skill. My other cowboy partner put on the saddle. I can not remember if we came in first or second—— that was great fun!
Of course all the cowboys were saying I just had to ride the bare-back event.
I did, but lasted about 4 seconds only and I was on the ground.
Then came the saddle bronc riding. This is where I was really naive, and the cowboys took advantage of it. I had heard that some times a cowboy comes off and his foot gets caught in the stirrup—— dangerous!
They bring in these wild horses. They chose a heavy horse for me about 1500 pounds. The large coral where the bucking shoots were, was very soft dirt in the middle but hard a concrete around the middle.
I’m ready— the gate is opened— the horse is bucking away— after about 5 seconds I’m getting thrown off. I’m coming down to the ground and—— O no! My foot is caught in the stirrup! The horse was in the middle of the arena. He puts his back foot into by back just below the shoulders; I am pressed into the soft dirt, I feel the dirt coming up as I’m pressed into it; as the horse continues on my foot comes out of my cowboy boot, and the cowboy boot stays in the stirrup! I’m getting up, and three or four cowboy Indians are running towards me. The one in the lead get to me and with a frightened look on his face says, “O my, O my, you are one of the luckiest cowboys I’ve ever seen!”
I walked away with only a few scratches down my back!
Everybody was thinking what would have happened if I’d come off not in the centre but on the hard as cement ground around the center.
I knew the Lord would look after me, even as I now realize I was so naive. I have somehow known the Lord was with me, and had plans for me….well my plans for myself, but would find out they were not at all the plans God had for me.
I watched these cowboys try putting a saddle on another wild horse in the shoot. It must have taken then at least 20 minutes; the horse was going wild with them. Finally they had the saddle on, the rider was ready—— out the horse comes—— this is when I now saw how a wild, not so heavy a horse, bucks. It bucks like a bull! There is no bucking in a straight line as you see in pro rodeos, where the cowboy can get into a rhythm. A wild horse bucks like a bull, every which-way; nobody can ride a truly wild horse, a wild horse young and healthy.
The Calgary Stampede has a horse in its “Bucking Horse Fame”—— just about no cowboy could ride it. When I saw a film of it bucking I knew why— it bucked like a bull, and it reminded me of what I’ve just told you at that rodeo on the Indian Reservation in 1962.
That was it, that was my first and last rodeo ride.
I did continue to break horses for Gord, but had learned to have one hand on the saddle strings at the back and one on the saddle horn.
Gord bought a 14 hand pony that had been in small town rodeos as a bucking horse. He was hoping we could get the buck out of him and use him for a trail riding pony. That never happened— he would go fine for 1, 2, 3, 4, days, no bucking, then out of the blue one day along the trail he would start bucking. He was completely unpredictable.
I arrived one morning and was greeted by Gord, “You know Cody [the name of the bucking pony] just bucked me off—— pulled himself back and the saddle and I came off over his head, the cinch still done up.”
“O tell me another story; your kidding me.”
“Well go saddle him up and see if he will do the same as he did with me.”
“Ya okay I will.”
And I did.
Cody is bucking away towards the wooden fence, I’m wondering what he will do when we get to the fence. We got there—— he sucks himself back, the saddle and I go over his head, my arms are over the top rail, the saddle is under me, with the cinch still done up, and Cody is long gone!
I would never have believed it unless it happened to me, which to my shock happened and as smooth and quick as the blink of an eye.
It was a very good summer I had in 1962 at the Buckhorn Stables; especially learning to ride bare-back on my Thoroughbred mare Laso.
And to top it all off there was the “Pioneer Days” in Saskatoon; they now call it “Saskatoon Stampede.” Back then there was no rodeo; there was lots of wagon horses, all fancied up, horse and wagon. I remember this one cowboy had…. It must have been 15 or so pairs of horses pulling a wagon; I have never seen since a cowboy driving such a long line of paired horses; it was truly an unreal sight.
I did end up working that Saskatoon show, working for a few wagon drivers; painting their harnesses. It was “Brazilian Dye” a deep purple-ish dye that was real good for leather. The harnesses had all those fancy chrome pieces, and you painted the leather between them. The dye dries with a little shine—— O those harnesses looked good, and the guys I did it for were sure pleased with my work.
During that summer I tried some of Gord’s horses out to see if any of them had the wherewithal to be a trick-riding horse. The ones I tried did not.
The winter was coming upon us and it was time to slow down at Buckhorn Stables and prepare for what was back in those years, a long Saskatchewan winter.
I found a few part time jobs over the winter and helped out some with Gord as needed, but the horse world came to a full stop in those early 1960s.
I was listening to the radio in the evenings, and there was one local station that played a number of 1/2 hour Christian religious programs; I enjoyed listen to them all; there was one I especially enjoyed. And I did send for their magazine during that cold 1962/63 winter.
It was in the Spring of 1963 that something really got my goat and made me sit up straight with Christian religion.
That’s for next time.
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