How Many Lessons Has Life Taught Me?
‘Well, just count the bumps on my head.’
--Tenderfoot Dick
Long ago, in what seems like another life, I worked as Director of Advertising and Promotions. I was challenged with the job of creating a radio advertising campaign for an insurance company. Their goal was to reach out to rural Alberta with their product.
What I came up with was a radio spot that would air weekdays just after the dinner hour agricultural report. We called it ‘Hitching Post’. These time spots told true life stories about horses and their people. The spots began and ended with good words about the program sponsor (the insurance company). They aired five days a week -- one story per week for almost two years. That’s a lot of stories.
With the help of CFRN and CFCW radio stations I wrote, voiced and produced all the material that went to air; it was a lot of hard work.
Most of the stories were about heroism and high drama and left little room for any sense of the hee-haw. In order to put some comic relief into the programs I introduced the world to a close friend of mine, Tenderfoot Dick. As it turns out, this character lived on a broken-down ranch up along the Athabasca Landing Trail. He had studied red fox logic and the wild ways in the meadows, creeks and open spaces of the Ghost Horse Hills and on what would become some of our provincial Natural Areas. Dick studied horsemanship through the school of hard knocks.
A tenderfoot is a cowboy’s term for a rookie or a beginner -- someone lacking in experience and wisdom. These stories are all true -- just the names have been changed to protect the ?????I thought you might enjoy reading a long form of one of the condensed stories that went to air. They’re call ‘The Adventures of Tenderfoot Dick’ and that’s him over there.
By the time Dick was seventeen, for reasons no one could explain, he had put together a string of eight of the most dependable horses anyone could dream of. The reason for this may have been that he was poor, didn’t own a car and never went anywhere unless he was straddled over the middle of a horse.
It wasn’t too long before word spread that he had this string of great horses and that just outside the gates of his father’s farm were some of the greatest riding trails east of the Rockies. Soon, friends and relatives that Dick had never met started showing up at the farm expecting to go riding. The horses, hills, valleys and trails along the Athabasca Landing Trail were more than they could resist. There is truth to the old saying that you haven’t seen nature until you’ve seen it from the back of a horse.
One of the Sunday regulars that came out to go riding was Dick’s older cousin Bill. He was attending classes at the University of Alberta and would show up most spring weekends with a new group of his friends. Dick would catch and saddle the horses needed and off they would go. These Sunday visits were a lot of work, especially when Dick had already put in a six-day work week on the farm. But he enjoyed the company.
Then came a Sunday in late May. Cousin Bill showed up right on cue, this time with two carloads of friends. Except for Bill, all were girls. Dick started to catch and saddle horses and as he came close to completing this job he started to do some math -- one Bill and seven girls equalled eight -- three bays, two sorrels, one buckskin, one roan and one pinto equalled eight -- just enough horses for everyone except Dick. Panic started to take hold. Boy oh boy did he ever want to go on this ride. You just never knew that one of these girls might not need his help.
There was a solution to his problem standing in a big paddock back of the barn. The solution was in the form of a black stallion that went by the name of Shane’s Shadow. Dick knew better but he started playing with the idea of saddling the Shadow so that he could go. To ride him or not to ride him -- that was the question. But therein lay the rub. Shadow wasn’t like the rest of Dick’s horses. He had proven himself to be one nasty dude. He was in the practice of bucking off Dick just for sport -- and could he buck!
Quickly Dick weighed the options. Saddle Shadow . . .or stay at home. Maybe, even if Shadow did buck, he might be able to ride it out and look like a hero. That had never happened before so he put that thought out of his mind. Maybe today Shadow wouldn’t buck. Dick didn’t know. .. but the Shadow knew.
Dick made the only decision he could make given the circumstances. These girls were going to need his help so he caught and saddled Shadow. Within minutes the string of horses and people was out of the ranch gate and onto the trails. It was led by one Bill followed by seven girls and far in the rear rode one Dick on a Shadow. For the next 2 1/2 hours this cavie wound its way through the hills and dales that made up the landscape next to the Landing Trail. Dick always stayed way in the rear. He was busy doing everything he could to keep himself and the Shadow out of trouble. Besides, being way back in the rear if the black did explode it was less likely that anyone would notice. The downside was that he hadn’t gotten close enough to any of these girls to have even said hello. After a few more minutes everything came to a stop at the top of Lookout Point. All the riders stepped down to stretch their legs and to take in the beauty of the countryside that was laid out before them.
It had been almost three hours and the Shadow was still as tight as a fiddle string, letting Dick know that he’d best be doing everything just right or he was prepared to introduce Dick to the laws of gravity. After Dick stepped down off Shadow the unthinkable happened. One of the girls walked back and introduced herself to him. She then asked why he was staying so far behind and suggested that he should come up and ride with the rest of them. Dick began to explain, panicked and started to stutter -- a problem he had when he was around girls. Just then a call went out for everybody to mount up. ‘Saved by the Bill’ Dick thought. Another hour passed. By now the trail had turned towards home and it was only about 45 minutes back to the farm. Just then the black stallion heaved a big sigh and relaxed. Finally Dick thought. Maybe I can enjoy the rest of the ride. Still, best be careful -- Shadow’s moods can change in a hurry. Dick nudged Shadow forward, slowly catching up with the girl at the back of the string. As it happened, it was the same girl that had introduced herself earlier. Batting her eyes, she started up a conversation, chatting about this, that and the other thing and asking Dick questions that only required a ‘Yep’ or ‘Nope’ response.
As the trail opened into a field she asked the fatal question. ‘Can you show me how to handle my horse better?’ By now Shadow had flattened out and relaxed and Dick thought that he could take 60 seconds and tell the girl everything that he knew. He went through a checklist of does and don’ts, ending with, ‘when you want your horse to gallop, you squeeze your legs together like so...’ In that moment of time, Dick thought ‘What are you doing?’ He tried to take back the cue but it was way past retrieving. Shadow took five or six powerful strides that put him out in front of the rest of the riders. Then at top speed he stuck his head between his front legs and went to bucking. There’s an old cowboy saying that originated on the field of battle. It goes, ‘Powder River boys. Let ‘er buck!!’ It’s a recognition that things are out of control and that the best you can hope for is that you might be able to ride it out. This is what Dick was hoping for. . . and he was doing pretty good until Shadow made his high dive which left Dick spinning in the air. Mother Earth caught him , , ,with a thud. He hit the ground and the air left his lungs. He couldn’t breathe but his hearing was just fine. Above the gasps of the girls he could hear cousin Bill's ‘HAW! HAW! HAW! Are you all right?’ Trying to learn how to breathe again, Dick gasped that he was.
Slowly he got up, caught the Shadow, swung aboard, buried his boots deep into the oxbow stirrups and rode off listening to chuckles, snickers and descriptions about how high he had been thrown. Quietly he made his way home. Later that evening after the horses had been fed and put away and everyone had left, Dick’s father asked him if he was okay. ‘Yup’ was the reply. ‘I think I’ll just go and lay down’. He got up from the table, took a few steps and passed out.
A quick trip to St. Mary’s hospital in Westlock was made where it was determined that Dick had three separated ribs, a badly bruised shoulder and a concussion.
Life lesson lump #1: Never show off on horseback. Sooner or later you’re going to pay the price. It’s not worth it, even if the audience is seven university girls.
Tenderfoot Dick
On the left: The young tenderfoot on Valentine, one of his good horses.
On the right: Older and wiser, taking care of the little things.
On the right: Older and wiser, taking care of the little things.
