Put me back to sleep...Jack

I still have the hat...and just bought some more cowboy boots

Poco Hijack - the horse, that is. Last night I woke up dreaming I was trying to fix a PowerPoint. Because - you guessed it - that's what I needed to do at work today. Unfortunately, once awake, I began obsessing (just a little bit) about it.

So in order to put myself back to sleep - I needed to think of something else. Something calming. Thanks to Jennifer Deter's recent Facebook post about aging cowgirls, where a bunch of former Atlantic cowgirls reminisced about riding horses around town, I've had my horse Jack on my mind recently. I decided to think about a day in my life, taking care of Jack.

His full name was Poco Hijack - out of Poco Bueno and High Life Beauty. He was a Registered Quarter Horse. I was proud of that fact, and loved looking at his papers. I got him as a three-year old, when I traded in my mare Frosty in for him. I bet you didn't know you can trade horses in like cars. The people I bought her from in Yale, Iowa (with Wayne Rodger's help) wanted her back - so they offered Jack to me (plus we had to pay some cash, since he was registered an all). That winter we took him to Les Walker, a horse trainer in Bondurant, which wasn't contiguous with DSM back then.

A group of people in Atlantic were pretty forward thinking - they decided to build a condominium for horses. Mostly it was Wayne Rodgers and Ron Guttenfelder it was on his land) - but they rounded up some more investors, who included Leroy Nelson and me. I'm drawing a blank on others. I received a bit of cash when my mom's parents passed away so I used that money.

The place is a steel building with an small indoor arena. It has eleven stalls - six with outdoor runs - a place for the ponies to step outside, and five indoor only. There is a wide center aisle that I think was asphalted. Wayne hooked old leather straps to wooden posts on each side of the aisle so one could hook a horse up to groom him. There is a small tack room next to a hallway to the arena and the saddle room. Above the stalls there is a storage area for small bales of sweet smelling of alfalfa hay. Above the walkway, a hinged door was built so you can drop the bales through to the floor. In my day, one of the stalls held oats and bags of Bright Eyes feed from Walnut Grove, where Wayne was the General Manager.

Before I could drive myself, my mom or my sis Cindo used to drop me off at "the barn" as we called the condo. Even if I didn't have time to hang out with my fave guy, Jacko, I had to feed him each night - 1 flake of hay and a quarter of a coffee can of oats. There was a guy named Dean (yeah - that's another owner) who fed in the mornings. I paid him $.25 a day. That was my first experience with a checkbook and at being responsible to pay for something.

Working with Jack was so relaxing. Even cleaning the stall. Little did I know that I was recycling back then - using sawdust as bedding, and dumping the dirty stuff into a spreader for Ron's fields. We got an electric waterer - heated so it wouldn't freeze up. It still needed to be cleaned periodically. The best part was grooming. I was thinking about my tools - the wide flat leather brush, the aluminum mane and tail comp, and that thing we used when they were shedding - a long serrated blade with leather handles. It was perfect to scrape off his dead winter coat. And the hoof pick, to clean the crap out of his feet - taking care not to damage the frog - that's the tender part in the middle.

As I said, Jack was a youngster when I first got him. I was a bit scared of him! After his trip to Les Walker's, he was much better behaved. And once he and I settled in - we were fast friends. He was quite a character. One time at a horse show in Audubon he not only ate ice cubes, but a french fry! I liked to take him carrots and apples. Outside the barn there was a "loafing" area where I could turn Jack out while I totally cleaned his stall. Sometimes I would just lay on his back with my head on his butt, thinking teenaged thoughts while Jack grazed.

I didn't even start to think about riding Jack last night, when I fell asleep. What a joy it was to have a horse like Jack. I have been blessed in my life with many wonderful people who helped me - my parents who supported me in my desire to have a horse, my grandparents who made it financially possible and Wayne and others at the barn who helped me care for the horse. That big animal taught me a great deal.

Poco Hijack

After I'd had Frosty a couple years, the family that sold her to me wanted her back. They wanted to trade me a nice young 3 year old gelding Registered Quarter Horse. Which was a huge decision. So big that I burst into tears when I considered it.

Trading Frosty in seemed like something a traitor would do. I'm from the pets for life school of life. But the good thing was she was going back to a loving fam. And ooh that hunky sorrel with the blaze of white a a couple white socks. I couldn't pass it up.

So we got Jack, and my folks invested in a month of training for him at Les Walker's in Bondurant. Les taught Jack a few things about gait and put him on a tie down. He had a tenancy to rear up. Jack had a great temperament, but he was after all just a baby in horse years. He had energy, and was nothing like Frosty, a good 'ol gal.

Once I got Jack back from the trainer, I had lots of work to do. And I had a brand new barn to do it in. A group of us horsey types invested in a horse condominium on Guttenfelder property. It was a steel building with 6 stalls with outdoor runs and 5 without. Jack had a nice middle one with a run and an electric heated waterer. The best thing was the nice indoor arena with several inches of sand to work out on. There was a nice tack room and a hayloft above the stall area for nice small bales of alfalfa. We kept a manure spreader out back for cleaning out stalls.

I had Jack throughout high school, and he turned out to be a wonderful guy - calm but not boring. He let me slide off his butt, and on hot days I could feed him ice cubes. The outdoor arena at "the barn" as we called the facility was surrounded by fence and we could turn horses out to graze. Sometimes I liked to lay on his back as he grazed - on my stomach with my head on his back. One time when I was in this position, he was startled and began to canter - and when I sat up I was pointing backwards and was in no position to control a 1500 pound horse! I ended up rolling off him onto the ground.

Sal's dad Wayne was a good mentor for me and helped me arrange for shoeing and worming my horses. He helped me figure out what to feed them. Wayne had a nice horse trailer with a changing room on the front. He used it to haul Sal and me to horse shows in southwest Iowa, as well as to the Cass County Fair. Yep I was a 4-Her, forced into baking and doing artsy things in order to show my horse. Our group was named "The Glad Girls of Grove", for Grove Township in Cass County. Hell, at least I wasn't a "Gay Grant Gal".

I was not the most successful horse shower. Jack, though a good horse with good confirmation, was not a typical winner with a nice rocking horse gait. Nope he had a very rough (think Jackhammer) trot and a fast canter that caused me to have to pass people when showing - not a good thing in judge's eyes. Sally's horse Vissy was much more successful, and Jennifer ended up buying an expensive shower later, after her starter horse Drifter.

But I loved it! Hanging out with horse peeps in places like Anita and Audubon. Who could regret meeting people like the Campbell Soup Twins - twin girls from Exira who looked just like that little nerd that used to be on the soup commercials - reddish hair with very short nerdy bangs. And the Souths. Some people were in it for the speed - pole and barrel racing. Sometimes I'd participate in the egg race, fun stuff like that. Horse shows always had the best sloppy joes.

I sold Jack to a local family when I went to college. It was tough, but had to be done, since I wouldn't be around to take care of him. Later he was sold to some family friends and he lived at their farm. I took Paul to meet him once. When Jack was 16, he escaped from his fence and was hit on the highway and killed. So long old friend.