Poetry

Growing Up

Growing up, I took our whole string of horses for granted. I’ll admit it. We’d always had at least 30 horses and my whole childhood I just thought that was normal. Weekends would be spent riding in the mountains to a cabin camp, every Friday dad and I would go to roping nights and sometimes I would even miss school to go on a 10 day pack trip in the fall. We had all kinds of horses: ones for packing, ones for riding, ones broke enough to take to gymkhanas, old faithful ones and young rank ones. To say the least, there was never a dull moment and something always needed to broke or put miles on. I specifically remember the day a trailer full of PMU horses came rolling into the yard. There was five rank 2 year olds that dad had bought for $500 a piece. The horses were: Dave, Junior, Shadow, Little, and Pal. They were all dangerous- my brothers and I knew to never go near any of them. I recall dad round penning Dave, a powerful young grey, thrashing into posts and flipping over backwards. Little was spooky and timid, it seemed he maybe would never grow out of it. Junior was the sketchiest one of all… I remember going up to him when I was about 8 years old and my dad yelling at me to “get the hell away from that dangerous horse!” He would kick, bite, buck…
Now? All those two year olds are pushing 19 years old and I am 23. They are all the quietest of the quiet, the calmest of the calm. It was just the other day I was putting a scared little girl up onto Junior’s back- because I know he is the safest old trail horse we own, and that he would take good care of her. Little is one of my favourite lead horses- energetic and willing. Dave is a bombproof pack horse, Shadow and Pal are trustworthy for any beginner to climb on. It is still mind blowing to me that these five superstars are the same “dangerous” horses I once knew as a little kid. They are so special to me and I feel very honoured to have grown up with them. In the last year or so I have learned to NOT take any of these horses for granted. One day they will all be gone. Its just a matter of time before all our current sketchy firecrackers will be the new quiet Juniors.

-Kenzie

A Bent, Felt Hat

A bent, felt hat.
Resting in long grass
Beside an aged outfitter leaning against an old stump.

It’s warped with sun’s fade
From jet black to a weathered grey.

It used to sit up on a store shelf
Perfectly shaped with a wide brim
Back in ‘92, it looked damn good on him.

It’s been hung off saddle horns,
Porch hooks and through country bars...

A groom’s final touch on the special day,

flown into the mud after a score of 88.

A bent, felt hat...
But it’s so much more than that.

Step By Step

Thank you to A/Z for supplying
Drinks, food and laughs
Whisky, Willie and Waylon

A drink that should be enjoyed
A man to be remembered
A horse to be wary of

Toby Creek, Ristol Creek, Dutch Creek
Throughout the summer, never a day to forget

Toby Creek;
A day of rain
Pouring, watching, waiting, thinking
“They’ll pull the plug”
But
They never did
Strong willed people they are

Ristol Creek;
Such grit was needed
Pumpkin, Rosie and Tequila the trusted steeds
However things go wrong
As expected
The cowboy way is to move on

Dutch Creek;
8 hours in
Hungry, tired, satisfied
5 riders
Brooklyn, Brent, Noelle, Olivia, Alex
Just as green as Robert

Four days in these mountains
Fourteen horses
Four green girls
One seasoned Outfitter

Step by step
Day by day
Green became seasoned
Seasoned became bored

Territories that reach hundreds of miles
Yet Ristol reaches Dutch
Creeks that run South
Waterfalls that fall with such force

Night brings stars
Big Dipper to Milky Way
Small and large

Wooden walls and tin roofs galore
5am storms for all to hear
Thunder, lightning, rain and echos
So very different from the prairie storms

Awake in the bunkhouse
Staring at black, a brilliant flash
To see for a split second
Then nothing more

Horses tied in camp
Some hobbled some loose
Come morning where shall they be?

Crackling and rumbling
Pelting hail and soft patters
The 5am storms lasts nothing but an hour

Horses and a mule tied
Ever so patiently to that far tree
But a donkey tied with chains
For he’ll bite his lead in a matter of minutes
If you’re not careful a wild mule he’ll be

This trip is not over yet
More stories will be told by the fire
Of that, I am sure
For now this is the end
But know the end is really a beginning
And there will surely be more.
•
There really aren’t words to describe the summer. The girls were amazing, the horses were characters, and the scenery was unreal. Huge thank you to Brent DuBois at A/Z for letting me work for the summer, I truly had one of the best summers ever. If anyone ever wants to go on a wicked ride in the mountains, I can point ya in the right direction!
As for the summer crew, Noelle Moore-King, Olivia Nolan, Kelly Stevenson, Quinn Duffney, Kenzie DuBois and Brooklyn Flowers, you guys made my first real time away from home an absolutely amazing time and I thank you all for the laughs and great times we had

-Alex Mason