The situation was this, there were 45 head of horses in the camp and they all had to somehow get across the river in order to be hauled safely to winter pasture far from the grips of a bitter mountain winter.
With the Arctic front intent on staying the situation soon became dangerous, the more the river was given a chance to freeze, the more precarious the attempt to cross with the horses would be for both horse and rider. We had to move them and we had to get mobile and move them fast.
The outfit manager was fairly new to the industry and was a little less than confident around horses so the whole idea of trying to forge the icy waters of the river in such poor conditions was unnerving for the poor fellow to say the least.
There were four men in camp and it was decided that we would all pitch in and halter the horses, tying them along the old log fence and to some of the trees standing in the large pen. Once the horses were all caught up and haltered one of us would then lead 5 horses tied head to tail across the river at a time, handing them off to a man waiting on the far bank.
The outfit had constructed a suspended walking bridge over the river for the men to use and there were several corrals built as a holding area on the far side so we were fairly well set up for the adventure. The only thing we needed was a gent willing to climb aboard a horse and try to cross the river.
I promptly volunteered for the task after a short talk with the other men, we each had our strong points on the crew, mine was being able to stay in the middle of a horse while doing just about anything.
The first horse I caught up was a big solid chestnut gelding who stood an honest 16 hands and was without a doubt the most solid looking mount in the entire herd. The manager of the place rightly told me the horse was an outlaw, that he had piled one of the men hired as summer help and had been turned out and not used again in 6 months.
The animal had a good eye about him, although he stood straight and faced a man without a touch of cowardice he was not a mean horse, I could just sense it from him. I led him to the far corner of the pen and tied him under an ancient pine tree. He stood calmly while I brushed him down and, although never taking his eyes off me, accepted my saddle without grudge. I tacked him snuggly but not tight and left him to stand under saddle while the other horses were caught and haltered.
The adventure of catching up the herd was just that, an adventure and with a little laughter and some serious cussing we had the last one tied off just in time for a mid-morning coffee and biscuit. The whole while we were catching up the other horses I’d kept an eye on the big chestnut standing under the pine and never once did he so much as twitch his tail in displeasure, he’d turn himself to watch the hoo-haa but he never showed a hint of mean.
The camp cook had fresh coffee and hot oatmeal cookies ready when we came into the lodge, that was right about the time the other men started in on how the ole’ chestnut horse was gonna tie me in a knot out there in the yard. The laughter and the teasing were all in good fun but in the back of my mind I already knew that if that big sonofagun came unglued on me I’d have to ride like a mountain lion to stay aboard.
With a gallon of hot coffee gulped down and half a dozen cookies each we departed from the warmth of the kitchen and out into the icy air and eye watering sunlight. The sky was bright blue and there were flakes of frost floating lightly in the air as they fell from the tree limbs above. The frigid air and heavy frost made everything look as if it were part of a painted scene, even the steam rising from the spring seemed to freeze in the air, an amazing day.
A horse can sense a man’s inner most feelings from a considerable distance and I knew the big fella would feel my insides being a little tight. He stayed as calm as a rock when I approached and untied him, never twitching a muscle. I led him out from underneath the trees and walked up into the main yard with him, he acted like he was quiet comfortable with the whole idea and when we stopped in the front yard of the lodge he dropped his head to nibble at some grass that was sticking up out of the snow.
I reached around and gently lifted my stirrup up to the horn and while talking easy to the him I gently gave the cinch an easy tug, he turned his head and looked at me when I gave the girth the tug and when I gave it the second one he dropped his head and rolled his eyes back, exploding into a whirlwind of kicking feet and flying stirrups. There was no way I could hold onto him and I didn’t even try, I just stood in amazement and watch the horse go bucking out of the yard with jumps that looked to be clearing the roof of the lodge. I know the look on my face was that of total amazement but when he came around the back side of the lodge still humped up and bucking while on a path straight towards me, well I can only imagine the look in my eyes then.
The goofy horse had bucked himself completely around the lodge and when he made full circle he came to a stop, snow covered and hair straight back. I eased up to him and once again he stood like a rock and watched me come, never so much as a twitch. Gathering the now frozen lead shank in my hand I led him around in a circle only to have him follow every step without fault.
I had no more time to waste with the consideration of the gelding’s mindset so I warmed the bit of one of my snaffle bit head stalls between my hands and slid it up into his mouth. This was not a good idea as far as he was concerned and with head raised and tongue flailing he proceeded to very agitated. I quickly took down the head stall from around his ears and slid the bit out of his mouth, as soon as I did so he stopped fussing around.
The messing around was starting to get me a little agitated as well so I made a loop of the lead shank around his thick neck and tied it off to the chin of his rope halter. I stepped him out a few steps, pulled him tight towards me and hoisted myself up into the saddle while he was turning sharp, once there in the middle of him I gave him his head and he stopped and stood still.
With both feet in the stirrups and as deep a seat as I could get I urged the big horse to step out with a gentle nudge from both legs. He stepped out without hesitation and never blinked as I rode him around the yard. We quickly decided that the real test for the big gelding we now called Dan would be the river so off we headed, me, Big Dan and three fella’s who were placing bets I’m almost sure. Even the cook decided to come down to the bridge and watch the crossing attempt, camera in hand.
There are several things we forgot to consider during our discussions surrounding the river crossing, the first was how to get the horses out onto the bank ice and once out there, how to get them down off the ice into the chest deep water. The second concerning factor was how to get the horses up onto the bank ice on the far side of the river while trying to scramble up out of the freezing water. Both issues were of serious nature and the situation was becoming more dangerous all the time.
With pick and axe the four of use broke loose dirt and gravel from the overhanging river bank and with shovels made a path as far out onto the ice as we dare for fear of falling through into the freezing waters. The dirt and gravel we cast out onto the ice gave considerable footing and we hoped the discoloration of the ice would help give the horses some confidents in their footing.
It getting past noon and in order to get everyone across the river in the safety of daylight we had to get moving. I once again slid up onto Big Dan’s back while turning him into me and once again he gave no contest. We eased down the icy trail towards the river, Dan’s feet slipping and sliding as we went, never knowing when he would lose his footing all together and crash to the frozen ground and ice below.
The last down ward pitch of the trail before it entered the river had become very icy under our boots, something we over looked in our haste, something we soon realized when Big Dan came sliding down around the corner on his haunches and out onto the bank ice with a crash.
When Dan slid out onto the bank ice his hind end dropped out from under him and we went down hard onto his right side. My leg went underneath him but not to the extent of causing me any grief. As fast as he went down he scrambled up onto his feet, his agility was amazing for such a large animal, I could feel his muscles coiled beneath me like steel springs. He was indeed a horse among horses.
It took little urging to get him to walk out onto the gravel trail we had built on the ice, his confidence was amazing, it was if he knew the challenge the same as I and was eager to play his part in the adventure. He walked like a cat out onto the ice, stopping only when it cracked under his feet as we neared the outer edges. Urging him to take another step was enough and when the step was taken we broke through the ice and plunged into the freezing waters.
The water was stirrup deep in an instant and Dan leaned into the current with a strong shoulder as I turned him towards the far bank, never did he question my intent, he only took to the task with incredible strength of heart.
The freezing water boiled up around us as Dan pushed ahead, each powerful stride drawing us closer to the distant river bank, with each stride the water climbed his chest as the river’s depth grew, ice sheets floating by us as we moved ahead.
The icy water was considerably shallower on the far side and as we drew near the shelf of ice that skirted the bank I wondered to myself as to how we would manage to climb onto its slippery surface. My question was soon answered as Dan suddenly lifted a powerful foreleg and struck the ice with a solid blow, shattering the ice before us, breaking open a trail as if he’d done it many times before. Several times the big brute struck the ice before us, each time breaking free yet another mass of shattered pieces which were swept away by the current, clearing the path as we labored ahead.
When the far shore was finally reached Dan climbed the bank with a powerful lunge and I climbed down to give his legs and belly flesh a quick check, looking for any serious cuts that may have occurred while he smashed his way through the ice. Free of any serious injury I once again climbed aboard the powerful horse, turning him back down into the icy waters, heading for the awaiting men on the opposite bank.
Once again when the shelf of ice on the distant shore was reached Dan smashed open a path with his powerful forelegs, sending water and icy shards into the air as he struck the ice with tremendous force and when the ice became thick enough to support our weight he scrambled up onto the surface like a cat on a hot tin roof.
Although the big chestnut was up to the challenges of the river crossing the first string of tailed horses we tried to coax out onto the river ice was far more reluctant and soon the string of 5 became a tangled mess of sliding kicking horses. In an attempt to straighten the mess out I dallied the lead shank around my saddle horn and touched big Dan with a spur, sending him ahead with a powerful lunge. We soon had the string behind us stretched out and skidding out onto the ice and once in the water they settled down right off and concentrated on their footing instead of how hard they could make a fuss.
One string after another we led across the river, each trip taking its toll on Dan and although his heart stayed strong I could feel the icy waters draining the strength from his powerful body. It was the fifth string we had in tow and we were very near to the middle of the river when a large sheet of ice came floating down on the fast moving current and slammed into the side of big Dan sending him sideways down the river with tremendous force. I was almost sure the force of the ice and water would most certainly topple the big horse sending me into the freezing water and in a fleeting effort to free us from the ice I turned him down stream, allowing the ice sheet to roll off his side with the current. The idea worked but the sharp edges of the ice left a nasty gash across his shoulder and once out of the river and free of the string I jumped down from his back to have a closer look at the wound.
When the ice sheet had rolled down his side it tore a gash through the hide of his shoulder and although it looked nasty it was only that, a tear in the hide about 6 inches long with no damage to the muscles below the surface.
The best thing for a cut on a horse is plenty of cold water and the wound in no way put him in any immediate danger so I climbed back aboard the big brute and we headed back to finish the job we’d started.
When we finally reached the river’s edge with the last string in tow the sun had set behind the snowcapped mountains and dusk was upon us, causing the temperature to drop once again to more than 30 below.
I elected to park Dan inside one of the horse trailers for the night out of the wind. With a gallon of grain in front of him and a fresh bale of hay I took my time rubbing him down with handfuls of soft bedding straw all the while talking softly to the big guy, thanking him for is gallant effort and his tremendous heart.
It had been a long hard day for both of us and once Dan was bedded and fed I headed back across the walk bridge towards a hot cup of coffee and my warm and welcome cabin, warmed by the fire the cook had kindled for me an hour or so before. Once out of my frozen chaps, ice cloaked riding coat and gloves I lay back on my bedroll had gave silent thanks for yet another adventure filled day living as a man from the wilderness.
Written by;
Ron Arnett
"A man from the wilderness"
