Helping a friend is a high calling, but I'll never offer to halter break a horse again

Did I ever say I got smarter as I got older? I might have lied. I agreed to take a colt, a 2-year old colt, and halter break him for a friend. Another lie, that guy could not be a friend if he talks you into taking a 2-year old gelding to halter break. I mean this mustang has only been handled to geld and that was not pleasant for any of the participants!

He, that friend, delivered the horse a week later and we kept him, the horse, in a box stall all week. I fed him and he sorta settled down to the point of not trying to jump the gate to get me. I got his approval with the rolled oats and good hay after a couple of days and started feeling like this was a job I was sure to enjoy. We even got to the point of me touching him without any backing of ears or lurching.

I decided to let Bruce, that is what I called him, out into the run. This run is about 12 feet long and has the advantage of sunshine for the animal and the advantage of gates for me. I thought he needed to look around the farm and see other living critters, might assure him we were not a butcher shop.

Bruce did pretty good until he heard Snip nicker. That colt went silly again, so back into the box stall. I was sure disgusted with myself and my hot air about being able to halter break horses.

We went through the exercise of going to the run and returning to the stall for many days before I felt safe to go into the stall and muck it out. Bruce watched and stood still, never threatening me or acting upset. He had decided Snip was not going to come to his aid and maybe it would be fine to live like this. I fed, he ate and we visited. I got my hands on him and brushed his fore quarters, then his hind quarters. I figured I had about 200 dollars' worth of oats invested in him when I brought out the halter.

We agreed to disagree for four days before I finally got it on Bruce's head. I let him drag the halter shank around with him for a week before I took hold of it. That brought on a fit like you have never witnessed. He snorted, bucked, yelled and did didoes for 30 minutes and finally stopped dead still. All four feet were planted firmly, his head down, eyes were white ringed and he was blowing hard. I eased up to him, picked up the shank, expecting all heck to break loose.

Bruce followed me back into the stall like a puppy. As the old saying goes, I had better sense than to tie that horse solid so I just left him standing and shaking like a wet dog.

It is my opinion, and everyone has one, helping a friend is a high calling and one we need to answer. Helping a friend with the simple things in life is a rewarding endeavor and one I love to add to my name.

I will never again offer to help anyone, friend or foe, halter break a horse. I will keep my mouth shut, leave the premises or walk out in traffic at 5 o'clock before I will ever offer to assist with a thing like that again. I aged about 10 years as I approached that wild-eyed hunk of trembling horse flesh and I can't afford that again!

Bill is the pen name of the Gravette author of this weekly column. Opinions expressed are those of the author.

Editorial on 09/17/2014