Horses tend to panic easly which tends to give us some good busters now and then.

We camped about 200 yards from the large waterhole so the cattle could water quietly.
So a bunch of us were leading our horses down to water them before being hobbled out.

One young Jackeroo was late for some reason, off saddled at the camp, and jumped on bareback.
This pony was quite keen to catch up to his mates, and just happened to be a bit hard to hold also.
We had about 75 yards to go when Gray Ghost came thru at a flat gallop, maybe even a bolter.

Just before the water there was a gutter which he jumped, which probably loosened up young Bob.

As Grey Ghost landed he decided to go hard right, which finished Bob off. He sailed about 10 yards out into the creek and disapeard into the biggest splash I'd ever seen. After sizing up the situation, Grey Ghost decided to go in also, so I leapt on my good old Fidget and got him out.

Trouble was Fidget wanted to jump up the bank, and Grey Ghost wanted to hold back. That pulled me off into the mud but I was still laughing while flat on my back.
Bloody horses Ya gotta love'em.

Funny story....that's exactly why I hate horses. The damned things have a mind of their own. I don't want to spend all damned day dealing with horses I want to hunt!!! Thanks for the story though. I'm sure this post will stir things up a little.

the chef

Hello;
Ah, the Great Canadian Pack Horse Race. My wife likes to tell this story and she usually gets some good laughs. I'm just happy, I survived.
A few years ago, a group of us held our annual week long trail ride in the Hummingbird Creek area. Frankie Keirle brought along a gelding, named Cat, that he wanted to break as a pack horse, so we loaded him up with a couple of wooden pack boxes, weighted with some rocks and just for good measure we put in a tin can with some pebbles. There were about a dozen of us on the trail, with Frank bringing up the rear, leading Cat for the first couple of miles or so. Things were going well, so he let him loose to follow. Car however, had enough of this shit and set out back towards camp. I should have left well enough alone, but muttering something about horses being born suicidal, I set off in pursuit.
I hadn't gone too far, when Cat came galloping back up the trail, making the most god awful racket. My horse, also green, took one wild eyed look, wheeled around and departed for parts unknown. Every time Cat looked like he was gaining, we put on another burst of speed. We were past gallop, more like a dead run, with me hanging on for dear life. There was no whoa and since I had a steep bank on my left and a thick curtain of young evergreens on my right, circling was not an option. This went on until we came to a fork in the trail, which appeared to head uphill, where I thought I might be able to end this rodeo. instesd, we put on a magnificent show for the rest of the group, who were riding on a lower trail. Eventually, I found a small clearing and managed to get the situation under control, but for the rest of the trip, there was no way my horse would let Cat get near him.
Grizz