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Rifles, Reloading, Optics, Equipment
Rifles, Bullets, Barrels & Ballistics
Building off of a savage action
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<blockquote data-quote="lesvoth" data-source="post: 1368905" data-attributes="member: 100864"><p>Good Horses</p><p>By Les Voth</p><p></p><p>When I was wee bitty baby boy I went to horse shows all summer with my dad - and our horses. One day at Crystal City this guy comes riding into the fairgrounds in his work clothes. His horse was not show horse pretty.</p><p></p><p>This young guy had a horse he had raised himself and worked cattle with every day. It was not yet high stepping, hand-fed, shampooed mane and tail braided baby. This horse was tall, narrow, lean and had a head that came offa his daddy two years after he died.</p><p></p><p>That kid rode that dirty-saddled oversized cayuse straight into the show ring. He had arrived just in time for a performance class.</p><p></p><p>Well, all them pretty ponies with their show gear went through their pretty paces. Some of them did not too bad. Then the kid showed the entire audience what it takes to be a performance cattle working horse. I'll never forget that.</p><p></p><p>The bond between that kid and his horse was something I've only seen a couple of times since. They LOVED each other. They TRUSTED each other. They WORKED as a flawless team. It was an HONOR to watch that unforgettable demonstration.</p><p></p><p>While he was working his horse I heard the conversation around me from the locals. They were saying:</p><p>He raised that horse.</p><p>He ain't gonna place.</p><p>The judge don't like him.</p><p>He rode 12 miles to get to the show.</p><p>That kid's gonna be mad when he finds out . . . </p><p></p><p>It was obvious to the entire crowd that the kid had the best horse.</p><p></p><p>When the judging started the judge never even looked at the kid. He placed them all in a row, in the order he wanted them, but totally ignored the kid like he hadn't even existed.</p><p></p><p>The kid saw what was happening. Just before the ribbons were awarded he left the arena and the fairgrounds without a backwards look. Everyone was in agreement. The judge had no class. The kid and his hammer-headed horse had won. </p><p></p><p>A couple of things I learned that day:</p><p>It matters far more what you do with what you've got, than how shiny it is.</p><p>A good horse don't have a bad color.</p><p>Just cuz you've got a title don't mean yer right.</p><p></p><p>That was 46 years ago. I was 12 years old that day. None of these things have been proven wrong since.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="lesvoth, post: 1368905, member: 100864"] Good Horses By Les Voth When I was wee bitty baby boy I went to horse shows all summer with my dad - and our horses. One day at Crystal City this guy comes riding into the fairgrounds in his work clothes. His horse was not show horse pretty. This young guy had a horse he had raised himself and worked cattle with every day. It was not yet high stepping, hand-fed, shampooed mane and tail braided baby. This horse was tall, narrow, lean and had a head that came offa his daddy two years after he died. That kid rode that dirty-saddled oversized cayuse straight into the show ring. He had arrived just in time for a performance class. Well, all them pretty ponies with their show gear went through their pretty paces. Some of them did not too bad. Then the kid showed the entire audience what it takes to be a performance cattle working horse. I'll never forget that. The bond between that kid and his horse was something I've only seen a couple of times since. They LOVED each other. They TRUSTED each other. They WORKED as a flawless team. It was an HONOR to watch that unforgettable demonstration. While he was working his horse I heard the conversation around me from the locals. They were saying: He raised that horse. He ain't gonna place. The judge don't like him. He rode 12 miles to get to the show. That kid's gonna be mad when he finds out . . . It was obvious to the entire crowd that the kid had the best horse. When the judging started the judge never even looked at the kid. He placed them all in a row, in the order he wanted them, but totally ignored the kid like he hadn't even existed. The kid saw what was happening. Just before the ribbons were awarded he left the arena and the fairgrounds without a backwards look. Everyone was in agreement. The judge had no class. The kid and his hammer-headed horse had won. A couple of things I learned that day: It matters far more what you do with what you've got, than how shiny it is. A good horse don't have a bad color. Just cuz you've got a title don't mean yer right. That was 46 years ago. I was 12 years old that day. None of these things have been proven wrong since. [/QUOTE]
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