SATURDAY NIGHT AT THE WESTERNER

The magic of a boy and his horse

by Juliie Carter

With C.S. Lewis's The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the movie, bringing a wonderful old story to a new generation, many of us from prior generations are rediscovering the magical imaginations we formed when we were children.

I know my dad would have found it hard to believe, but there was a time I rode winged horses high over tree tops and brandished a sword to fight off the evil invaders of my kingdom while waiting for a prince to come fight by my side. Although my horses never talked, they did plenty of listening.

Whistle them up

Every morning just after daylight but before the school bus arrives, a boy whistles up the saddle horses and feeds them a token amount of grain.

That simple chore puts a smile on his face and a spring in his step that sets the tone for his day ahead.

Smart old saddle horses know when it's feeding time and who is going to feed them. At the sight of the boy and the sound of his whistle, they'll come in at a high lope, offer up a couple nickers and head tosses, and maybe even an obligatory buck as they dive through the gate to the feed bunk.

Captivating magnetism

There was a time, like in the days that C.S. Lewis carved an entire set of magical stories out of his childhood, when the act of a morning chore tending to horses was the norm, not the exception.

But even Lewis knew the captivating magnetism that is created when a child and horse are put together in a partnership.

His third book in The Chronicles of Narnia series, A Horse and His Boy, has captivated my boy's imagination because he can take the story into his own life and relate to it.

The mythical elements of the story are quickly transposed forward in time and place to a stocking-legged bald-faced sorrel horse with the finely honed ability to beg for grain and look good while doing it.

Most ranch kids get to experience that special relationship with the horses they own while growing up. Long before a horse is simply functional equipment for the business, he is a friend, a confidant, and absolutely the best thing a kid could have.

I don't have the exact equation, but I believe that relationship builds something into the character of the child -- a foundation of love and trust that may just make a difference in his adult world.

No matter where life takes him, those hours, days and years of having that unconditional love from a horse (well okay, unconditional except for the oats) seals something in his heart that no one can take away.

Those evil invaders

And my own personal winged horse? He was one of several very regular ranch horses that I rode during my formative years.

My sword? Read that "willow branch" torn from the nearest tree.

And the evil invaders of my kingdom? Those, of course were my younger brothers. They were so very gullible.

The secret to my kingdom was to always ride faster horses and learn to duck flying objects. Those evil invaders were also not so very forgiving when they found out they had been duped by the princess on the flying horse.

© Julie Carter 2006


Beavers

by Larry Gabriel

"Grandpa, why do beavers build dams?" the grandson wanted to know as they surveyed the handiwork of a family of beavers along the Cheyenne.

"They are just made that way," Grandpa explained. "Some people are like that too. They are just born to build something."

"Do they ever finish?" the boy asked.

"Do you mean the beavers or the people?"

"I mean the people. I know the beavers move when the trees are gone."

"Nope. They never finish. You can move them to a new location or a new profession, but they just keep on building. When they finish one job, they find some new place or thing to build."

"Are there many beavers in South Dakota, Grandpa?"

"Not near as many as there used to be."

"Why is that?"

"People killed them off because they objected to the trees being cut and the creeks being dammed. They thought the beavers were a threat."

"Were the people wrong? What if I don't want my trees cut down or the stream blocked?" the grandson asked.

"That would mean you are not a builder. Not everybody is a builder."

"But, what if the beavers cut down my favorite tree?"

"If you are a builder you will think of a way to protect that tree, or you will remember that trees are a renewable resource, just like corn. We can always plant more of them."

The boy had to think about that for a while. He was not so sure a corn stalk and a tree were comparable.

"Grandpa, what if I just don't like beavers?"

"That would be different. That is a statement about you, not about the value of beavers. For example, if someone does not like you, that is statement about him, not about you.

“Emotional intolerance is a risky thing. Many unwise choices are based upon it.

“Much of the time what we really need is a thing we dislike. Not all medicine tastes good."

Larry Gabriel is the South Dakota Secretary of Agriculture.