The Adventures of Ramblin' Rose: Ricky The Goathorse

1 - I can do better 2 - Jury's out 3 - Pretty darn good 4 - Splendiferous 5 - Awesometastic by 5 people | Log in to rate

Ranked #3,615 in Entertainment, #98,493 overall

In A Former Lifetime I Was A Cowgirl

In this story, I share the time on our guest ranch when a goat named Ricky thought he was a horse and in his short life, taught them all some manners.

Copyright © 2008 by gia combs-ramirez. All contents of these modules may not be reproduced or reprinted in any manner without the permission of the author.

The Story of Ramblin' Rose 

How she came to be...

Before becoming an energy healer and intuitive I grew up on a Dude Ranch in Montana and did everything from wrangling dudes and horses to cooking, cleaning and square dancing.

Here's the story of how I developed my Ramblin' Rose persona...(and if you've read this already, go ahead and skip on to the story about Ricky The Goathorse):

I grew up in one of the most beautiful places on the planet...the Montana Rocky Mountains. And I grew up in one of the most unusual businesses, unique to the United States...a dude ranch (i.e. guest ranch).

The dude ranch began in the early 1900's as folks from the East visited their adventuresome friends who had moved out West to try ranching. Teddy Roosevelt had a tremendous interest in the West and visited Yellowstone Park, setting the stage to bring lots of folks behind him. Gradually the Western ranchers began to see the possibility of a new business and began charging those friends money for staying with them.

Finally some intrepid adventuring souls branched out and built ranches specifically for these Easterners. Known as greenhorns or "dudes" because they didn't know how to ride or handle themselves out West, these fascinated-with-all-things-Western folks created the niche industry that became known as Dude Ranches. My folks bought one in Montana when I was four, and I have lived on this ranch part of almost every year since then.

In the 1990s I discovered my love of writing and began to write for a now defunct paper called The Trout Wrapper. I wrote anonymously under the pseudonym of Ramblin' Rose and shared many of my adventures of growing up on a dude ranch. Of course, living in a small community, everyone shortly knew it was me that was writing.

By the late 1990's, my life took a different turn and I left my Ramblin' Rose persona behind forever. I thought. But as that immortalized quote from Field of Dreams, says "If you build it, they will come." Seth Godin and others built Squidoo and that has provided the perfect platform for publishing these stories again.

I'm going to start off my Ramblin' Rose series with my five favorite stories, then I'll add one every three weeks or so. If you want to be notified about upcoming Ramblin' Rose stories, get on my fan club and you'll receive announcements about new editions.

I hope you have as much fun reading them as I did writing them. These stories are best when shared with a loved one. Read them to your kids, your parents or to an adopted grandparent in a nursing home. And then tell a story from your own childhood!

Still The Favorite Activity At The Diamond J Dude Ranch

Ricky The Horsegoat 

Growing up on the ranch with over 60 head of horses, I knew them all by name. There was old Roanie who never went faster than a walk, yet 8 kids could climb all over him and not worry about being tossed off. Tartan was the beautiful buckskin we brought with us from California when we moved to Montana in 1959. Mistake was the pack horse who could be counted on bucking everything off at least once before allowing himself to get packed up. King, Brown Doll, Ant, Mouse, Gip (backward for Pig)...all were part of our herd, each with his or her own distinct personality.

Every afternoon the horses were turned out to pasture a couple of miles from the ranch. It was always an exciting part of the day. One wrangler would get in front to lead the way, while another brought up the rear. Whooping and hollering, sometimes popping bullwhips, the wranglers had their dramatic moment. The entire ranch stopped to watch the thundering herd with flying tails and manes, race out of the barnyard, down the hill and across the bridge, and then gallop up the narrow canyon road in a huge billow of dust.

During the day, the horses that weren't out on a trail ride stayed in the corral. Bored and confined, they often got cranky and ornery with each other as territories weren't easy to keep. There were injuries as one would kick another in the shoulder with a plunk and a squeal, or take a nasty bite out of a neck. This orneriness would occur even on the trail rides, as dudes let their horses get too close to the rear of the horse in front of them. Oftentimes the resulting kick landed on a human leg instead of a horse leg.

To make matters worse...

"I was dressed in my customary outfit of baggy jeans with one pant leg stuffed inside my boot..."

I Get An Ant's View of a Meadow 

And I don't mean the horse...

The growing problem of the horses fighting became as apparent as a crystal clear mountain lake one day when we stopped for a mid-morning break. I was dressed in my customary outfit of baggy jeans with one pantleg half-stuffed inside a boot, a cowboy shirt with the tail hanging out, and my red, felt cowboy hat that had lost most of its shape during the first June rainstorm. It was hanging down my back by the chin strap as the bouncing nature of my Shetland pony, Lucky, tended to keep it everywhere but on my head. My hair was still freshly cut in its once-a-year cut called a Pixie. That hair cut was not about enhancing the plain face of a six-year-old who had freckles on her nose and several gaping holes in her teeth when she smiled.

Getting back to my story, I was just stepping down from my pony with my usual flair when the horse behind us leaned in and took a bite out of the big brown spot on Lucky's backside. Before I could get my foot out of the stirrup, Lucky took off. I lost the reins as I fell down, and discovered my foot still in stirrup. We had an interesting rip around the meadow as Lucky dragged me through sagebrush half as high as she was, as well as some ripe cowpies, before coming to a stop pretty much where she had started out. I stood up, a bit shaky but basically all right except for my dashing outfit that was a bit worse for wear.

Back home I didn't lose much time letting my father know about the mishap. He didn't show much of a response, so I generally forgot about the whole incident.

That next spring, however...

Too Cute!

Ricky Enters Our Lives 

Before the dude season got going, my father brought home a beautiful, brown-haired goat with soft doe eyes. He had read that keeping a goat with the horses kept certain infections down in the herd...as well as making them easier to work with in the barn. He decided to give it a try. Ricky was named after our favorite Western cartoon strip Rick O'Shay.

Ricky took to the barn and horses like a duck to water. He was low enough to the ground that he could run under the horses' bellies and right behind their tails. As you can imagine, he got kicked a lot. But Ricky was not faint-hearted and persisted in being with the horses even when my father separated him from the herd for a while to let him take a break.

Ricky, obviously, never thought of himself as a goat. He was a horse, through and through. Each afternoon, Ricky left with the horses to go to the night pasture trailing behind the racing horses, doing his best to keep up. Each morning he was "wrangled" in with the herd.

Gradually, over the course of a month, the horses began getting used to Ricky running under their bellies and behind them. They stopped getting ornery with each other, not only in the corral but also out on the trail.

In the imaginative view of a 6 year-old, the horses got so polite with each other that it seemed as if they stopped on the trail before crossing every bridge to say, "After, you" and "No, after you."

But all things come to an end and that fall...

More On Rick O'Shay 

Stan Lynde, the creator of Rick O'Shay, came and stayed with us at the ranch. He drew each of us our own individual comic strip based on the character he thought we resembled. I was Moonglow.

"During the winter, I had grown a bit. I traded in Lucky, the pony, and got a bonafide horse."

Winter Brings School and Growth 

After a summer of paradise, would always come hell. I got to ride the big yellow bus for an hour and then sit locked up in school day after day. For the horses it meant pasturing in the valley to get away from the high mountain snow. Ricky could not make the run, which lasted several hours, nor take the cold winter winds of the valley. He stayed in the barn that winter with a couple other older horses. Like me he pined for the rest of the herd and the freedom of summer. I often went to the barn after school to visit Ricky and mope with him.

Spring finally came back and with it the herd from the valley. Infused with excitement, Ricky ran from one horse friend to the next. I laughed to watch him and did my own greetings of old friends from the top rung of the corral.

Winter had seen me grow some. I traded in Lucky, the pony, and got a bonafide horse. Most of the horses had kept their good manners and Ricky barely got kicked at all. That summer we returned to our routine. I would ride out with the dudes and Ricky gentled the herd in the corral. It was a golden summer, with nary a mishap for the horses, Ricky and me.

But fall loomed once again and with it tragedy...

"When that herd of horses left, they took Ricky's heart with them..."

Thank you, Ricky 

When fall came, my father decided not to keep any horses in the barn that winter. He locked Ricky in the barn and sent the wranglers and the herd down the road to the valley. When they were almost out of sight, my father turned Ricky loose. Off tore Ricky trying to catch the horses. They had too much of a headstart, though, and he couldn't catch them. He was still trying when my father caught up to him with the pickup and brought him back to the barn. Ricky laid down and wouldn't get back up.

When that herd left they took Ricky's heart with them, and also his will to live. Deciding that a life without his horse buddies was no life at all, Ricky closed his lackluster eyes and died within a few short hours.

That winter was as barren as the summer had been golden. It seemed like my own spirit went away for a while. Every day returning home from the dreaded school, I went straight to my room, never looking at the barn. Although time and a new season of Montana wildflowers renewed us all, there was no talk of getting another goat. There was only one Ricky, and although he was gentle and small, his effect on the world was great.

The horses that knew Ricky kept their good manners for years to come, perhaps in honor of their fallen buddy. As new horses replaced the older horses, crankiness and bad manners gradually crept back in to the herd. Now we watch as the herd kicks and bites at each other and we know the remedy...but we keep silent.

Somewhere, though, in that Great Green Pasture in the Sky where all horses go, there is a very polite herd of horses that never kick or bite and always say, "Please" and "Thank you."

And darting here and there, under this belly and around that tail, is the smallest horse of all...a goat named Ricky.

Till our next adventure,
Ramblin' Rose

Fainting Goats? 

Fainting Goats

Fainting Goats

Runtime: 78
6702632 views
4288 Comments:

curated content from YouTube

The Great Goat Book 

The Year of the Goat: 40,000 Miles and the Quest for the Perfect Cheese

Amazon Price: $15.61 (as of 12/21/2009)Buy Now

Explore other adventures with Ramblin' Rose 

Goat Cheese and More 

All those sad animal stories led me to healing... 

These are posts from my blog Science of Energy Healing. Who could have guessed this is how my life would have turned out?

Loading Fetching RSS feed... please stand by

How did you like Ricky The Horsegoat? 

Thanks for leaving me a message, lensrolling, starring, stumbling and any other way of promoting the lens. It's much appreciated!

submit

by Ener-G

My name is gia combs-ramirez. Before I became a soul intuitive, energy healer, writer, speaker, mom and aspiring skinny person, oops I mean...metaphys... (more)

Explore related pages

Create a Lens!