The very first merit badge I ever did, was horsemanship. Growing up, I was very interested in animals in general, but particularly horses. In fact, I used to tell people that I planned to be a veterinarian. Turns out I am a veteran, but not a veterinarian.
About a 1/4 down the road from where I grew up was a good sized stable. They probably had 30 or 40 horses there. I am not sure exactly how I ended up "working" there, but I just started showing up and helping out with things. I was never on the payroll, I was probably too young for that. But, I assisted the regular workers with mucking out the stalls, replacing the bedding, feeding the horses, taking them out to pasture etc. In return, I would get some free riding lessons here and there. I would have done it without the lessons though. Barns are fun places to visit. The combination of the animal smells, the straw and the hay, is very comforting. There is usually a lot going on too, tractors moving big loads, horses being either tacked up or finishing up a ride, definitely better than TV. So I would go to this barn almost every weekend and do whatever was needed.
One particular event still stands out in my mind. I was bringing a brown mare, named Lucy, into the barn from the paddocks. This was pretty easy stuff, you went out with the halter and a lead line (a long piece of rope or webbing), put the halter on the horse, and led it to the barn. It was kind of like walking an exceptionally large dog. The thing about horses is that they spook very easily. It is as if they have no idea that they are as big and as strong as they are, and will easily scare. To me, that is one thing that has always impressed me with the horses used for police work, because they have been so well trained that they have gotten over their usual instinct to bolt at any loud noise or strange movement. Because it was winter, there were patches of ice and snow on the ground on the way from the paddock to the barn.
All of a sudden, I slipped on a piece of ice and went down. As I was laying on the ground, probably about 4-5 feet from Lucy's hooves, she reared up and turned to run. For whatever reason, I did not let go of the lead line. It wasn't my horse and I figured if it escaped I would have some answering to do. So Lucy dragged me along behind her. I can still see and feel the bits of snow and ice that she kicked up hit me in the face. After about 50 feet or so, I couldn't hold on anymore, and I let go of the rope. Almost immediately, Lucy slowed down from a gallop to a fast trot and then a walk. She probably only went a few hundred feet more, before she turned around and looked at me. I got up, noticed that my knuckles were bleeding because they had bore the brunt of being dragged, but otherwise I was in pretty good shape. I slowly walked up to Lucy, grabbed the line, and we walked without incident back to the barn.
So the first year I worked at camp, I wanted to work at our stables. Camp would have 10 or so horses for the season and the staff members were responsible for the care and upkeep and leading trail rides. Even though I requested it for the first and second summer, I never got the gig. Probably turned out for the best. I still helped out there on many occasions. There was a true cowboy who started working there part time. He did not have time to work there the entire summer, and had a family to support so he couldn't quit his main job. But, he had actually grown up around horses, worked ranches, the whole deal.
When I first met Jason, I thought he was in his mid 30s. He just seemed way too serious and mature to not be. Turns out he was only 24. He probably hadn't gotten carded since he was 13! He was all business at first, but it was fun to work with him because he knew exactly what he was doing at all times. He had this great rig set up for pulling fences tight, he built it himself in a couple of hours, it would have taken me half a lifetime to build it. He was also a very patient teacher, it turns out there is a very specific way to attach the fence to the fence posts. It is not the easiest way, but it lasts much longer. He also helped me out of a pretty good jam.
I was driving one of the nicer trucks at camp, in fact it was the Camp Ranger's truck. It was a nice Ford F-250, full 4 wheel drive, snowplow attachment, the works. However, being relatively unskilled in 4 wheel drive, I did not know that you had to lock the hubs to to engage the 4 wheel drive. So, of course, I got the truck stuck. I was technically doing work, not goofing around, but I was a dumbass to not properly engage the 4 wheel drive. I attempted to get it unstuck, but just succeeded in digging it deeper and deeper into the mud, until it was buried up to the Axels.
Jason, knew what to do, he got this John Deere tractor and we hooked up a chain, but the tractor did not have enough juice, even with me giving it full power in reverse, so it looked like we were out of luck. But, Jason knew something I did not know. Apparently, a single John Deere key will start all manner of equipment. Ranger Bob's son was in the logging trade, and every so often would park some mammoth piece of equipment at the camp. No-one messed with this stuff because it was pretty imposing. The wheels alone on these machines were more than 6 foot in diameter. Jason explained to me that he had seen one of these machines just up the road and thought that the John Deere key would work. I was skeptical, but I also really wanted the truck to be unstuck. So he ambled up the road to check it out. Sure enough, I heard this enormous diesel engine start and Jason comes trucking down in this huge wood skidder.
It looked something like this.
He was driving it super calm, cigarrete dangling out of the corner of his mouth - true Marlboro Man style. He hooked that beast up to the truck and told me not to worry, I could just put it in neutral. Just as he began to tug, he snapped the two chain. That is a ton of power, this was a thick chain and he just snapped it. Fortunately, he had a fix for this too, and we simply doubled the amount of chain between the skidder and the truck. And just like that, it was unstuck. I don't think he even needed to give it any gas. Since this machine could pull enormous trees, pulling a rather small truck was no big deal. Ever the teacher, Jason then instructed me on how to properly lock the hubs of a 4wd vehicle.
When we first started working together, I learned that if he disapproved of something, his go to phrase was "Not in my barn." This could range from the literal like not tying up a horse correctly "Not in my Barn" to the far more esoteric or political. For instance if you asked him if he supported the current policies of the white house, he was very likely to respond "Not in my barn." Naturally, I liked this phrase and took up using it all the time. At first, I think it annoyed him, like if someone asked me if I wanted a drink of milk and I would respond "Not in my barn." But, eventually, he came around and even started to overuse his own phrase. Plus, we really enjoyed shouting it. Nothing confuses a person more than asking a simple innocent question and you shout back, perhaps in unison, "NOT IN MY BARN!" It was a shame he could only come up on a few weekends, but I always enjoyed working with him because of his work ethic, sense of humor and skills.
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