RIDING RANGER

1968 – February 18, 2007

by Redhorse

Ranger and I were Trail Bosses on the 

Big Bend Stillwell Ranch Trailrides from 1987 to 1995.

RANGER wasn’t just any horse; he was one of those horses that they stopped making 25 to 30 years ago.  He had the constitution of a buffalo and the inside nature of a lamb.  Bought through a Sheriff’s sale in Midland County, he was thought to have come from the Scharbauer Ranching interests.  Though his past was unclear, a few facts did surface through a gentleman working for the FDIC.  RANGER was a rogue, wild stallion running with a herd in New Mexico until he was five (5) years of age.  Cowboys decided to make him a working horse and he was gelded.  The process of breaking him and making him a working horse put a suspected number of 5 cowboys in different hospitals.  

When I acquired RANGER, I named him.  His history implied he’d been on the range awhile.  The most obvious sign that he didn’t want to be ridden at first was his “cow kicking”.  As soon as you reached for the rear girt strap, he’d try to kick you.  An aged farrier friend, Tex Wilson, advised me to kick RANGER in the stomach “as far as your foot will go” precisely at the time RANGER tried to cow kick me.  The timing was crucial.  The second time it happened, the timing was perfect, and not once more did RANGER try to cow kick when being saddled.  Once he figured out no men would be riding him, we made a wonderful team.

 RANGER and I have ridden more Texas than some Texans have seen.  We rode all the trails at Land Between The Lakes, Kentucky .  In 1990, we crossed the state of Wyoming (from Ft. Casper to Cody) during their Centennial.  It took 30 days, and we were outriders for a beautiful red stagecoach with a six-up team of spotted Appaloosas out of Iowa .  (This was a “no support vehicle” event; my clothes were in Elmer Stockton’s ( Safford , AZ ) Chuckwagon and my food in Chap Paulson’s ( Las Cruces , NM ) Gypsy Wagon.  All wagons were authentic; no rubber tires.  All I had to worry about was my tent, saddle and RANGER).  We enjoyed riding trails in Oklahoma , Arkansas and New Mexico through the years.  

Where horses the last 30+ years are being bred for looks, grace or size, RANGER was bred from the old range stock.  Where younger horses race for the barn when it’s lightening or thundering out, he’d casually graze along; with not a hint of stress or fear.  When a “newer model” horse gets a little thorn in their side or leg, they might display exaggerated pain or trauma.  RANGER almost bit about one-third of his tongue off when we bottomed out on one hill and promptly started up another.  He never gave into it.  In fact, it was probably 6 months before I even knew of the damage.  His attitude was always like that of a quiet, proud and silent older man.  If another horse or animal aggravated him, he’d squeal and stomp the ground one time.  That was always sufficient to let them know how he felt.  He’d tolerate Mammie, our resident goat, to share his stall or rummage for dropped food near his trough.  When he wanted solitude he’d just grunt or make an “Ump” sound and Mammie knew to scoot along.

 RANGER represented 27 abused horses in one of the original Dr. Elizabeth Rohr abused horse cases by showing up at a hearing in Southlake, Texas.  Beside him tied to the trailer, was a white poster board that said, “I’m 30 years old and this is what a healthy horse should look like!”  Several television stations noted his presence and he and his message were on the news.

 The arthritis in RANGER’S right front elbow and later hips required me to shoulder the offside when the farrier came to trim his feet.  It was most obvious on his last day that he couldn’t get up after a welcomed roll.  I’d vowed to him and myself that I’d never allow him to suffer or endure less than a normal lifestyle.  Every critter on my place knew what was coming, and has grieved since.  They are counseling each other by staying close to each other and sharing the days.  Mammie actually lay on RANGER’S resting place a few days after he was gone.