MEMOIRS PART 22 - SMOKEY THE COW PONY

I spent the summer living with my parents and working on the farm, doing many of the same things I had done while I was in college. I helped with the haying, combining (harvesting), plowing, etc. I don't recall doing any milking, probably because by then Dad had electric milking machines. I bought another car, a 1942 Buick hatchback, which was old and beaten up, and I had to put a new engine in it that winter.

About the only thing I remember clearly about that summer involves the horse I broke to ride. My father had a small herd of semi-wild horses in the pasture near the old barn at that time, one of which was a dark gray male which I thought would make a good saddle horse. He was about 15 hands high, of good configuration, and was about 4 years old. I called him Smokey after a horse in a movie of that time.

I got permission from my father and went about training him. In this operation, the first thing to do was to catch the horse, which I did with a lariat. Next I put a halter on him, tied him to a stout post and tried to get him to accept my presence without trying to run away. This took a day or two; finally I untied him from the post and began to teach him to lead, which meant that when I pulled on the halter rope, he was to follow me. This took several days, but in time he came to recognize me as a friend and not as an enemy.

Next I began to train Smokey to accept the saddle, which was difficult, and in the process he got away from me and bucked around the corral until I could catch him and calm him down. It is common knowledge among cowboys that if you permit a horse to buck just once it will try to do it again every chance it gets. Smokey was no exception, as I will note later.

Mounting up required the help of a tame horse and a helper. The tame horse was old Sport, and the helper was Clark Imlay. In a few days we managed to get Smokey calmed down enough so that I could get on and off without difficulty. Then we were able to begin training him to be guided by the bridle.

I rode him the rest of the summer, and he became and excellent cow pony. He seemed to enjoy chasing after errant cattle. He also became relatively gentle. When I left for college in the fall, I turned him loose with the herd of semi-wild horses again.

That Christmas when I returned to Grantsville for the holidays I caught Smokey again with a lariat, put the saddle on him, and mounted up. He promptly started bucking, threw me off, and ran away. I was able to catch him again with the lariat, and this time when I got on I was ready. He bucked a little, but nit very enthusiastically. and I was able to ride him around the field without further trouble. I turned him loose again, and that was the last time I saw him.

When I returned to Grantsville the next spring, all the semi-wild horses, including Smokey, had disappeared. I didn't ask my father what had happened to them because I kept expecting him to volunteer the information. He never mentioned them.

During the summer I went to Salt Lake City several times, made arrangements to re-matriculate at the University of Utah, and to live at the Sigma Nu fraternity house.