Thursday, July 4, 2013


5" x 7" 

SOLD (Thank You!)

Wichita is another horse from the Philmont herd I worked with in the summer of 2010. He's a sweet little horse and I rode him the second week of topping off. We were going great, walk, trot, lope, all in line with the 30 other wranglers in the large arena. And then it happened, Wichita tripped. Now, when horses trip, they catch themselves because they don't want to fall. But I guess we were going too fast around the corner and a dirt clod just happened to be in the wrong place. I remember his head disappearing and then I'm being thrown over his right shoulder. THUD. And I roll. I look up and see hooves, flaying legs, and blue sky. I roll more. I feel my heart thumping in my chest and I'm short of breath. I look around and see Wichita scrambling up; good he's ok. But I'm in pain - shoulder, arm, back. The bosses "escort" me to behind a solid wooden round pen to see if I'm seriously injured while the ambulance (modified SUV) is on its way. I went to the Philmont hospital, get checked out, and given pain killers. Nothing broken, but I sleep in a recliner for the next three or so nights because it's too painful to lay down all the way. Bruised, sore, but not broken. I have no hard feelings to Wichita. He was a willing little pinto pony who didn't do it on purpose (unlike some of the other new horses who were down right crazy - that's another story).

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