Doing it wrong to get it right
Cowgirl Sass & Savvy

Julie Carter

Life's lessons are rarely learned in the classroom and, for country kids, they often involve some sort of event that includes pain, disappointment and then, hopefully, an "Aha" moment for improvement in the next go-round.

My dad wasn't one to spend a lot of time explaining things. I didn't know any better as a kid, but as an adult looking back, I know I learned most of what I know by paying attention. By osmosis.

He wasn't loud or aggressive about letting us know if we, my brothers and I, did something wrong, but he also didn't often acknowledge to us if we did something right. We just had to figure it out by watching his reaction.

When he was pleased, he would tell my mother and she would, in the way mothers do to encourage, pass on the information that Dad was proud of us for something we had accomplished.

In this manner, I learned how to read a horse, watch a cow and know where to get to not be in the way when holding herd or working in the alley. He "showed" more than he taught about working with colts, riding with easy hands, a light handle, and when it was time to establish who was in charge.

Sometimes for kids, doing it the wrong way is the best way to learn how to do it right.

When Dan was young, about 7-8 years old, his grandpa lost the coin toss and was delegated the job of teaching him the art of calf roping.

They worked their way through the correct positioning with the horse behind the calf, loop size, proper swing and then the tie. At last, they were down to the part where Dan was to actually get on a horse and make a run in the arena.

Dan's excitement had been building, listening as patiently as he could while his grandpa explained each step of the process. With great enthusiasm, he got on his horse, backed him the roping box and nodded with his eye on the calf in the chute.

The calf flew out and headed rapidly toward the other end of the arena. Dan and his horse broke of the box, clean and smooth. He threw a big loop, catching the calf somewhere around his belly button.

Not quite textbook style, but a catch just the same.

He correctly made a quick dismount off the right side, only to land in a heap in the arena dirt.

Getting up, he tackled the calf, managed to string two instead of three of the four feet that were kicking around, and stood up with his hands in the air, triumphant.

About that time, the calf used one of his free legs to take a kicking swing, tripped Dan, and put him back in the dirt.

Undaunted, Dan jumped up and made a mad dash back to his horse, correctly not spooking him into a backward run. About the same time, the calf had managed to kick loose of the wrap and hooey and stood there shaking his head.

Dan got back in the saddle, rode up and took the rope off the calf.

When Dan got back up to the chute, he asked Grandpa "What do you think I should do next time?"

With a serious look and tone, grandpa said, "Well, I think you should take dead aim at that calf, get a good break from the box and run right over the top of him."

Dan stood there a minute thinking about that and finally asked, "Why?"

Grandpa told him he had done everything wrong that he possibly could on that last run and running over the calf was the only thing left.

Some days, it just seems that it won't get better until absolutely everything goes wrong first.