Excerpt from the autobiography of Taft Rowberry WRATHALL (1909 - 1985)

[Written approx. 1980 (age 71)]

Horses

It is a truism that, if one has a lawn, he will have crabgrass, and just as surely one living on a cattle ranch must contend with horses. Nearly every direction one looks he will see a horse, every breath of air he takes will smell like one, and it is seldom quiet from pounding hoofs. This situation usually works out fine as most people love horses. I have really only known one person who was raised on a farm, and especially a cattle farm, who didn't like horses. This "one-in-a-million" person was me. I don't like horses now, I didn't like them then, I never have and probably never will and I'll tell you why.

Reason 1: As a little kid barely able to climb up into a buggy I did and sat beside Jay my brother and behind old "Sky", a tall muscular bay named because of his height, who was on this day harnessed between the buggy shafts. Jay had the reins in his hands. We were soon gliding serenely across the mud flats near Fishing Creek. Suddenly Sky decided things were moving too slow for him and he bolted. He was a lanky old rascal and he really flew. I looked at the line of telephone poles as they went by and they looked like a picket fence. There was no mud guard in front of us, and with each stride we both got a face full of mud from Sky's hoofs. The only thing Jay said was "Hold tight, Tip". In Grantsville, from that time on, Tip was my name. Jay's admonition to hold on was unnecessary because Tip was fearfully doing just that. Luckily it was flat country and we didn't overturn, and before long, panting and covered with foam, Sky slowed down to a trot.

Reason 2: Father [ James L. Wrathall (1860 -1932)] had purchased a black and white Shetland pony for use by the kids in the other family [that of his first wife, Penninah]. How I happened to be riding it I don't know, but I was at a gallop through the meadow. Suddenly the beast jumped sidewise without missing a stride. According to Newton's Second Law, "A body in motion will continue in motion, in a straight line, unless acted upon by an external force", so when the pony suddenly changed its direction, I continued in motion, in a straight line. To avoid the possible serious consequence of the application of yet another of Newton's laws, the law of gravity, I reached out and grabbed the pony's neck. I managed to get my arm around his neck but with each step dropped lower and lower, until I was riding under his neck. This was more serious than if I had just let myself go at the beginning. Here I was hanging under his neck just in front of him. Unfortunately, when I did finally let go, I rolled up like a ball and he just ran over and through me. I ended up with badly skinned upper arms and legs, and numerous bruises from his sharp hoofs.

Reason 3: One horse I sometimes didn't mind riding was my father's own personal, favorite horse, a broad-backed black pacer. When a horse paces, it moves both the back and front leg on the same side in the same direction, either forward or backward. The two legs on the other side would move in just the opposite direction, producing a smooth, happy motion for the rider. One day, as I was on this trusty horse bringing the cows from the pasture, he decided to get home right now and, accelerating to a fast gallop, headed toward home. This sudden maneuver came as a complete surprise, and, as I'll freely admit, produced considerable fear and trepidation in me. My grip on the reins became progressively weaker as my grip on the horse's mane became progressively tighter, until there was no governor at all on the horse power. Things wouldn't have been so bad if he had carried out his original intention of just going home, but as he rounded the corner going into the home stretch he suddenly stiffened all four legs, so his feet ploughed into the ground and in a cloud of dust everything came to a very sudden stop - that is, everything except me. I turned a couple of somersaults as I want over his head before I hit the ground.

Reason 4: Among the collection of good candidates for a glue factory was a grey pony with evil eyes which were kind of yellow. A "pony" is larger than a Shetland pony, but smaller than a horse. When anyone tried to mount this dude, he would swing around and try to bite them. I was helping someone get on by holding the reins near the pony's head so he couldn't move his head. It was a routine thing and I was just standing, half-asleep, holding the reins rather gingerly. Suddenly he jerked the reins out of my hands, whirled around, reared up on his front feet and let me have it flush on the chin with his back feet. I was literally lifted off the ground and landed on my seat some distance back. Oh brother - I saw stars aplenty!

Reason 5: I had numerous other unhappy experiences with horses. They tromped on my feet numerous times, squashed me against the side of the stall, bit me, hit me with their head and lashed me with their steel tail, but I'm happy to say one never fell on me. It was with a feeling of relief when I said goodbye to these critters and moved to Salt Lake. It turned out that my relief was temporary. I took ROTC at the University of Utah, and, as the military brass felt all its prospective officers should be proficient in horsemanship, I was required to ride 2 hours every Friday afternoon. Most of the ranch horses at Grantsville were tough and wiry, but the Government Issue [horses] were big and brawny. Wanting horses that could stand the rigors of war, they specified big, big, big ones. I had never seen such big horses before, nor have I since. Just outside the ROTC stables, there was a long hitching post some 200 feet long. Every Friday afternoon to this hitching post would be tied a long line of these beasts, all primed with oats and ready to go. They were tied so they were all facing the same direction. We cadets would be issued a little English saddle, and then marched down the line behind the horses until all horses were covered. The horse we ended up behind, we rode. We seldom had the same horse twice, so each Friday was a completely new experience. Word soon got around about the bad temperament of certain of these horses, so, as the line was being formed, there was a lot of jockeying (no pun intended) to avoid these satanic creatures. I'm not exaggerating very much when I say some of the horses were so tall, I could hardly throw a saddle on them. What we did during the 2 hour riding exercise was to gallop around the hills back of Fort Douglas, practice posting, horse control and, most fearful of all, jumping. They had a jumping course with fences of various heights to jump over, and as the horses didn't like to jump, we all had our embarrassing moments. I would sometimes wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, dreaming I was on one of these horses.

Reason 6: Trying to make an impression on my girlfriend, named Mary Wallace (a cute redhead) [Taft's future wife] I invited her to go horseback-riding with me. Why I did such a ridiculous thing I'll never know, except it was a privilege we enjoyed as fledging cadets and it didn't cost anything. As if being walked on, run over, kicked, swished, spit on, squashed and abused other ways was not enough, I was now to be humiliated. After getting Mary on her horse, I couldn't mount my own. Every time I tried to get on, he would swing around to try and bite me.

It wasn't with a complete feeling of defeat that I finally said adieu to my relationship with horses. At least I had one brief experience of triumph to look back upon. These sly beggars were smart, and did everything they could to make life comfortable for themselves and miserable for me. The real smart ones would hold their breath or even extend their chest just before I pulled the saddle-cinch up tight. Later they would exhale and feel more comfortable because the cinch would then be loose. This unsportsmanlike conduct could produce an unexpected sort of ride. To eliminate this practice I learned to give them a sharp kick in the chest just before tightening the cinch. With the kick, air would be forced out of their lungs and, before they had a chance to inhale again, the cinch would be tightened. For these brief moments of triumph of homo sapiens over these herbivorous mammals I'm grateful.