Rope Burn

There was a branding at the college here the other day. I didn't know there was anything going on until I walked out to the barn to ride and I heard all the cows bawling. Suspicious, I asked around as I rode my horse and I discovered that they would be roping the calves to brand and vaccinate. Excited for the opportunity to practice in the branding pen (I gotta one-up my old man somehow), I came back later in the afternoon to get in on the action.

Being there from the beginning, I had the privileged of seeing how a student-managed branding went. Let me tell you, I am glad for my father's sake that he was not present. As it was, the instructor in charge, who is exceedingly patient with students, was running here and there trying to point students in the right direction to a) be useful and b) stay alive. Usually in that order. Here are some examples of things that wouldn't fly on the home operation, but that had to be dealt with in this situation (the italics represent a rise in both voice and blood pressure):

Instructor: “Okay, what are we waiting for here; why aren't we starting?”

Student: “We're waiting for the vaccines.”

Instructor: “Okay, who's getting them?”

*only response is a universal shrug from students*

*first calf is dragged through, Instructor tries to tell ground crew on heels what to do*

Instructor: “Why are you kneeling? Sit your butt on the ground!”

Student: Sits, confused.

Instructor: “Put your foot above the hock on the ground and stretch it forward, then hold the top leg back!”

Student: Sputters, confused. Tries to do the thing, but has the wrong foot on the hock.

Instructor: “Other leg! Put your other leg on the hock and stretch it!”

Student: Sputters, more confused. Tries to put same leg on other hock.

Instructor: “Put your other leg on the hock!”

Student: Still confused. Her wrong foot now twitches between going to the correct hock and incorrect hock.

Me: “Switch your legs around!” I tap her leg, trying to make it clear.

Student: Sputters again, still confused.

Instructor: “Why aren't you using the other leg?!”

Me: “Here. Move this leg away,” I grab the leg and pull it away, “and put this leg on the calf.” I grab the correct leg and drag it into place.

Student: Is still confused, probably, but relieved no one is yelling at her anymore.

Instructor: “Make sure that corner gate is closed! Someone left it open last year and calves got out; you cannot do that!”

*five minutes later, gate is wide-as open*

Instructor: “Why is that gate open?! That needs to be shut or the. Calves. Will. Get. Out!”

Instructor: Makes eye contact with me and non-verbally communicates exasperation.

Me: Non-verbally communicates “What can you do?” by shrugging.

There were only around 60 head and plenty of ropers, so the rotations in the pen were pretty short. I still made my mark, but not in the way that I wanted.

First of all, Mack, the horse I was using, was being good. None of this is his fault. I just want to commend him as a good boy, because I feel bad for what happened to him.

So here's how it went down...

It was my turn in the branding pen, but there were four ropers, so to give everyone fair shots, usually one person goes to the prime spot where all the calves bunch up, then when they miss (as happened more often than not), they would move aside to reset their rope while another student tried. It was a good safe system, especially for inexperienced students, where tangled ropes were a definite hazard.

Instructor, being more experienced and able to handle his rope than the others, would go in at the side, snag a calf, and drag it out without disturbing the other roper's progress. This system was perfectly functional until my turn.

At this point, I had caught two calves pretty efficiently and dragged them through, so Mack was settled in quite well and doing just fine. I was focused in on my target as I went for my third, so I didn't see as Instructor came in behind me and snagged a calf. Unfortunately, I dallied and turned to drag my calf at the same time that Instructor did. Being a little closer to the gate than me, that put me in line to turn right into his rope.

As Mack and I committed to our turn, I saw Instructor's rope in my peripheral vision. I quickly spurred his other side then, trying to get him out of the turn, undallying my rope as I did, so I wouldn't get tangled in that one. Unfortunately, Mack is conditioned to the “turn-and-drag” system of roping in the branding pen. He was not prepared for the “turn-just-kidding-turn-back” system. In other words, though he undoubtedly felt my frantic spur and was probably confused by it, he thought he knew what I wanted and what I wanted was a turn-and-drag. As a result, some of Mack's feet went over Instructor's rope.

My horse was thrown into the confusion of me telling him to do one thing then changing my cue very rapidly, a tight rope raking his legs, and a bawling calf beginning to make its way, albeit not by choice, between his legs. Mack panicked, and rightly so.

Thanks to the ground crew who were watching the gate, as well as this scene before them, there were immediate shouts of “Watch out!” and “Instructor! Let go!” I am very grateful for this, as I was in no state to shout anything coherent, though I think I did do some shouting of some sort. Maybe it was panicked screaming – who can say? That part's a bit of a blur.

Anyway, despite the yelling the rope remained tight as Mack began to scramble around in the mess. It was because of this that my sister, to her infinite credit as a loving older sister, tried to aid my cause by yelling very aggressively at Instructor to drop his rope. Like, very aggressively. I don't deserve her.

As it turned out, Instructor did drop his rope and right from the first sign of trouble (which was the first bout of yelling). Unfortunately, as he released, a coil caught on his horn, which is what caused Mack to become as entangled as he did. All of this I pieced together after the fact. At the time, I was rather preoccupied.

Just a side-note to slip in here on Mack: he's a very patient, level-headed horse. The one or two times he has “bucked” with me, it has just been a little kick up of the heels. No freak-outs, no crazys. So if, in the future, I describe a blown gasket or a fit coming from him, take it with a grain of salt. His freak outs are not that bad.

When Mack felt the rope the first time, he wasn't terribly out of control. It was when he tried to get out, only to be met with more tight rope to trip on (when Instructor's coils caught), that he kind of blew a gasket (though a Mack gasket is not that bad, as I said before).

First, we kind of hopped, skipped, and jumped (and tripped – don't forget tripped) to one side of the branding pen. That was the preliminary round. At this point, Mack was not committed to a full-on fit; he wanted to make sure the danger was real. He jumped once but still felt the rope (Goodness gracious, thought Mack, this is scary. I want to get out of here.). He swept sideways but still felt it (Oh dear. It's still there. I must move.). He jumped (and tripped) forward and still felt it (Danger! Danger! Must attempt escape!). Finally, he jumped straight up. But he still felt the rope (OH MY GOODNESS THE DANGER IS FOLLOWING ME AND I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING RIGHT NOW!!)

Then we started to motor. I think he wanted to stay on the ground, he really did. It's just that every time he touched the ground, a rope tickled his legs again. After the initial bout of jumping, he was no longer tangled, but between my and Instructor's rope laying across the ground, that was a lot of places there was rope. It's no wonder he lost himself a little and resorted to head-down, nostrils-flared, wide-eyed (I was, anyway) crow-hopping.

Such is the nature of this amiable horse that I didn't realize he was really doing this thing until he was about halfway through. I thought it was just going to be a spook... then a series of spooks... then a prolonged series of spooks... then I realized he was actually bucking. By this point, I was no longer sitting directly on top of my steed, but out at a rather extreme angle. My reins, which were so short for roping, had been ripped out of my hand somewhere amid the prolonged series of spooks. It was at my moment of most dire need that I regained myself enough to regain my horse.

I had a choice before me at that point, prior to gathering the reins. I was somehow clinging to the saddle at such an angle that would not be supported long-term and Mack was bucking our way to the panels. I knew at the panels he would make a turn. Because physics. If he turned left, I might be able to get my seat back, since I was hanging off the left side. But he would not turn left, because the calves were all huddled in that corner. He would turn right, and I would either be dumped into the calves or hit the panel. Neither of those were my favourite options, but then, this whole scenario wasn't the best either.

Just before Mack executed (me) his decision to turn right, I managed to grab hold of his left rein and crank him around enough that he hesitated on his right turn. It wasn't much of a hesitation, but it was enough for me to get back in the saddle before he took his final leap to the right. I had his reins then, and got him to stop.

Both of us being rattled, I let Mack (and myself) stop and process everything. He took some big, snorting breaths with his nose to the ground, and I, likewise, took a sigh of relief. As Mack stood there snorting, Instructor came up to explained that he had tried to drop his rope immediately, but the coils had caught for a bit. I think he felt bad, even though it wasn't really his fault any more than my own. He then told me to grab a rope and make sure I got Mack good with it again.

I rode Mack around a bit, swinging the rope and letting him watch other calves get dragged. It took him a while to settle down, but he was good when we dragged another calf out. After that I let him quit, but did some ground work with a rope later.

After the branding, Instructor came to look at Mack's leg; he had a bit of blood where a rope had burned him, so Instructor advised me on a product I should get at the vet. He explained again that he had dropped his coils, and I assured him that it was no one's fault; it just happens.

Maybe he also felt bad because Sister yelled at him so aggressively. I'll have to rein in my Rottweiler.