Shortgrass
Well-known member
This is an article I had printed in Country Extra Magazine a few years ago.
I read the article in your Feb/Mar 2003 issue of "Country" about Mrs. Kempfert's memorable midnight ride that stirred old memories. The editor then asked if we had memories of a horse that was special to us. For me, that horse would have to be "Doc". His papered name is "High Country Doctor", a son of "Doc JJ". In ranch country, "Doc" horses are plentiful, and many are favorites of their owner.
I ranch on the prairies of eastern Colorado, and it's been my pleasure to pull the girth on a lot of horses; some pretty good ones too. I recall something that happened 40 years ago when I was still a teen; one night we arrived home from a trip to town after dark. Included in our daily chores at the time was milking a cow. I saddled up to go to the pasture to get her. Riding "Bill Baily" along a familiar trail in the pitch black I could tell when he left the trail and circled around something. Almost immediately the unmistakable buzz of a rattler filled the night air. I learned that night to respect the ability of a horse to see things at night even when I can't. Many times since that night I have ridden horses in the dark. Usually it is before daylight or after a long day. Sometimes I will need to get a cow in the corral to assist in a difficult birth, and that may be at night.
One Saturday afternoon a few of years ago my wife, Janice, was checking water, while I was away on the truck. She found the windmill broke down, and the cattle nearly out of water. After I arrived home, she explained the situation. We had plans for after church Sunday, so I decided I could gather this pasture in the dark, and our lifestyle would go uninterrupted the following day. My daughter was a junior in high school, and quite willing to be in on some scheme that makes little sense; Sarah caught "Ghost", and I saddled "Doc". It was around 9:30 PM when we left the barn. Despite having no moonlight, we made good time, arriving at the pasture (2 miles distant) about a half hour later. Although our breeding program leans heavily toward the white Charolais Breed, this pasture contained all Black whiteface Cattle. The cattle were not at the windmill, so we rode parallel about 50 feet apart and went to the next spot where I was sure they would be. I could see the shadowy figure of Sarah on her big gray as we hoped to find our pairs. After about 15 minutes. I could detect the unmistakable figure of some cattle. Pleased at our good fortune called to Sarah, and rode toward the nearby cattle. "Doc began side stepping first one way, and then the other. Trusting his judgment I patiently continued to encourage him to go around the cattle. Sarah finally said "Are we at the fence, Dad?" It was the fence and they were the neighbor's stock and the fence was between us. Doc had been going back and forth along the fence line! I am glad he could see it. After going over the half section (320 acres) once and starting over, we did locate the pairs, and moved them into an adjacent pasture where they could water until we repaired the mill. It was after midnight when we shut the gate, and pointed our ponies toward the barn. Searching for black hided cattle at night is kind of a foolish errand I guess, but we did accomplish the job and made a wonderful memory for both daughter and dad.
Doc horses are bred cow horses, and mine is no exception; he has cow savvy. He is a respectable calf horse, and the kind of cutting horse that has caught the eye of many cowboys. Once I was going to bring a sick calf and her mother to the corral to doctor and observe a day or two. The calf wouldn't stay with mom, so I decided to doctor it there in the pasture. I dabbed a loop on it. Remembering then that the medicine was at the house—you folks are getting insights in my planning—about a quarter mile distant. I stuck a front leg of the calf through the loop so he would not choke, and walked to the house, got the medicine and pickup, and started to head to the pasture, when a neighbor stopped in. After a brief visit, I explained my situation, they left- quite impressed that my horse would do that- and I went to the pasture where Doc had held the calf for about 30 minutes without incident. There are not many horses that could be trusted that way. For an example, I had once roped a calf off of a different horse to doctor it and hurriedly tied my reins to the rope so that my horse would have to face it. I then flanked the calf only to have the reins come untied and the horse turned and ran away to the nearby fence, dragging the calf out from under me. Luckily the calf survived, but had experienced quite a ride. Wrecks like that have never happened with Doc.
I have trusted him with the much more precious cargo of grandchildren or other children and Doc could always be trusted to shift out of cutting horse gear and into kid horse gear.
Another memorable incident occurred one spring. I was planning to brand calves the next day, and six first calf heifers and their babies had been hanging off by themselves about 3 miles from the corrals. Doc and I went to gather them into the home pasture for the next day. Things went fine. I located the cattle, and drifted them for home. A sudden thunder storm came up, so Janice came to get me in the pickup. Horseback on the prairie is no where to be when the lightning is dancing about. I had just put the cattle through the gate into the home pasture when she arrived. With my head bent into the wind and rain, I tied the reins up to the saddle horn, slapped ol' Doc on the butt expecting him to beat me to the barn, shut the gate and jumped in the pickup. As we headed north for the gate onto the county road, I noticed my horse. He was gathering the cattle I had left and was taking them the remaining mile to the corrals. We drove in via the road, while Doc took the cattle west across the pasture. He had driven the pairs by himself within a quarter mile of the pens when Doc shook his head in a manner as if to express his disgust at me for quitting him, and trotted to the barn where one proud ol' cowboy pulled his hull off as fine a horse as I ever swung a leg over.
Maybe love is a pretty strong word for horses, but I've got pretty strong feelings for that ol' pony. Many times I have walked up to him in the horse pasture, swung up on his bare back with nothing but a baling twine under his neck and rode him to the barn to go on with our work. He will be 21 this spring, and I have often said," I don't want another horse; I just want Doc to be 6 again". It will not happen, so I have a nice black 4 year old under me now. She's athletic, will cut a cow from the herd, travels nice and will make her own place in my heart. But there will never be a horse that I love like my ol' Doc….
This article is submitted by Clyde E. Chess. My wife, Janice and I have raised 3 daughters and a lot of calves on our ranch south of Rush, Colorado. I once mentioned to one of my daughters, that ranches were a pretty good way to grow up. She then made the observation (for my benefit) that ranching was a pretty good way to grow old too. Well we're working at it.
I have traded the black mare because she bucked too much for a Sorrel that is not a stick horse, will cow, but not like Doc.
I read the article in your Feb/Mar 2003 issue of "Country" about Mrs. Kempfert's memorable midnight ride that stirred old memories. The editor then asked if we had memories of a horse that was special to us. For me, that horse would have to be "Doc". His papered name is "High Country Doctor", a son of "Doc JJ". In ranch country, "Doc" horses are plentiful, and many are favorites of their owner.
I ranch on the prairies of eastern Colorado, and it's been my pleasure to pull the girth on a lot of horses; some pretty good ones too. I recall something that happened 40 years ago when I was still a teen; one night we arrived home from a trip to town after dark. Included in our daily chores at the time was milking a cow. I saddled up to go to the pasture to get her. Riding "Bill Baily" along a familiar trail in the pitch black I could tell when he left the trail and circled around something. Almost immediately the unmistakable buzz of a rattler filled the night air. I learned that night to respect the ability of a horse to see things at night even when I can't. Many times since that night I have ridden horses in the dark. Usually it is before daylight or after a long day. Sometimes I will need to get a cow in the corral to assist in a difficult birth, and that may be at night.
One Saturday afternoon a few of years ago my wife, Janice, was checking water, while I was away on the truck. She found the windmill broke down, and the cattle nearly out of water. After I arrived home, she explained the situation. We had plans for after church Sunday, so I decided I could gather this pasture in the dark, and our lifestyle would go uninterrupted the following day. My daughter was a junior in high school, and quite willing to be in on some scheme that makes little sense; Sarah caught "Ghost", and I saddled "Doc". It was around 9:30 PM when we left the barn. Despite having no moonlight, we made good time, arriving at the pasture (2 miles distant) about a half hour later. Although our breeding program leans heavily toward the white Charolais Breed, this pasture contained all Black whiteface Cattle. The cattle were not at the windmill, so we rode parallel about 50 feet apart and went to the next spot where I was sure they would be. I could see the shadowy figure of Sarah on her big gray as we hoped to find our pairs. After about 15 minutes. I could detect the unmistakable figure of some cattle. Pleased at our good fortune called to Sarah, and rode toward the nearby cattle. "Doc began side stepping first one way, and then the other. Trusting his judgment I patiently continued to encourage him to go around the cattle. Sarah finally said "Are we at the fence, Dad?" It was the fence and they were the neighbor's stock and the fence was between us. Doc had been going back and forth along the fence line! I am glad he could see it. After going over the half section (320 acres) once and starting over, we did locate the pairs, and moved them into an adjacent pasture where they could water until we repaired the mill. It was after midnight when we shut the gate, and pointed our ponies toward the barn. Searching for black hided cattle at night is kind of a foolish errand I guess, but we did accomplish the job and made a wonderful memory for both daughter and dad.
Doc horses are bred cow horses, and mine is no exception; he has cow savvy. He is a respectable calf horse, and the kind of cutting horse that has caught the eye of many cowboys. Once I was going to bring a sick calf and her mother to the corral to doctor and observe a day or two. The calf wouldn't stay with mom, so I decided to doctor it there in the pasture. I dabbed a loop on it. Remembering then that the medicine was at the house—you folks are getting insights in my planning—about a quarter mile distant. I stuck a front leg of the calf through the loop so he would not choke, and walked to the house, got the medicine and pickup, and started to head to the pasture, when a neighbor stopped in. After a brief visit, I explained my situation, they left- quite impressed that my horse would do that- and I went to the pasture where Doc had held the calf for about 30 minutes without incident. There are not many horses that could be trusted that way. For an example, I had once roped a calf off of a different horse to doctor it and hurriedly tied my reins to the rope so that my horse would have to face it. I then flanked the calf only to have the reins come untied and the horse turned and ran away to the nearby fence, dragging the calf out from under me. Luckily the calf survived, but had experienced quite a ride. Wrecks like that have never happened with Doc.
I have trusted him with the much more precious cargo of grandchildren or other children and Doc could always be trusted to shift out of cutting horse gear and into kid horse gear.
Another memorable incident occurred one spring. I was planning to brand calves the next day, and six first calf heifers and their babies had been hanging off by themselves about 3 miles from the corrals. Doc and I went to gather them into the home pasture for the next day. Things went fine. I located the cattle, and drifted them for home. A sudden thunder storm came up, so Janice came to get me in the pickup. Horseback on the prairie is no where to be when the lightning is dancing about. I had just put the cattle through the gate into the home pasture when she arrived. With my head bent into the wind and rain, I tied the reins up to the saddle horn, slapped ol' Doc on the butt expecting him to beat me to the barn, shut the gate and jumped in the pickup. As we headed north for the gate onto the county road, I noticed my horse. He was gathering the cattle I had left and was taking them the remaining mile to the corrals. We drove in via the road, while Doc took the cattle west across the pasture. He had driven the pairs by himself within a quarter mile of the pens when Doc shook his head in a manner as if to express his disgust at me for quitting him, and trotted to the barn where one proud ol' cowboy pulled his hull off as fine a horse as I ever swung a leg over.
Maybe love is a pretty strong word for horses, but I've got pretty strong feelings for that ol' pony. Many times I have walked up to him in the horse pasture, swung up on his bare back with nothing but a baling twine under his neck and rode him to the barn to go on with our work. He will be 21 this spring, and I have often said," I don't want another horse; I just want Doc to be 6 again". It will not happen, so I have a nice black 4 year old under me now. She's athletic, will cut a cow from the herd, travels nice and will make her own place in my heart. But there will never be a horse that I love like my ol' Doc….
This article is submitted by Clyde E. Chess. My wife, Janice and I have raised 3 daughters and a lot of calves on our ranch south of Rush, Colorado. I once mentioned to one of my daughters, that ranches were a pretty good way to grow up. She then made the observation (for my benefit) that ranching was a pretty good way to grow old too. Well we're working at it.
I have traded the black mare because she bucked too much for a Sorrel that is not a stick horse, will cow, but not like Doc.
