AQYHA

It’s 96ºF (38ºC) today, and so humid that your clothes stick to you everywhere (yes … everywhere). It’s overcast, and there’s the occasional rumble of thunder, but I think it’s all big girls’ blouses, because it’s been like that all day and we haven’t had a drop of rain.

The heat doesn’t bother me too much – if it did, I’d have to head over to the mall, and shuffle round shoulder-to-shoulder with the thousands of others that decided to do the same, and I couldn’t stand that. So instead I headed over to Fort Worth’s best-kept secret – a day of free entertainment at the Will Rogers Equestrian Center. First, I went to the flea market, in barn Number 1 (apparently reserved for the porcine community, though I’ve never seen anything but horses and cattle in the whole place). I really like this flea market, though I’m not sure why – it’s indoors, it’s big, but not too big, the people are friendly, and there’s always little nooks and crannies I haven’t noticed before.

Cowgirl

There’s almost always something going on in the Equestrian Center – this week it was the American Quarter Horse Youth Association (AQHYA) championships. I swear there are a thousand of these associations: the American Paint Horse Association, the National Reining Horse Association, the National Cutting Horse Association, the National Barrel Horse Association – need I go on? Of course, you can Google it for yourself. And every one has a youth chapter. Today I found out what a “snaffle bit” is. It seems I no longer have to explain how ignorant I am when I ask people these patently silly questions – I suppose, by now, I must exude a general aura of ignorance in this area. And talking of exuding: you know how people who smoke think they’re being very noble by going outside to smoke, but then come back inside completely oblivious to the fact that every item of their clothing (and probably every pore in their skin) exudes the smell of smoke? Well, I think that also happens to people (including me) who partake of watching indoor equestrian events – except that the aroma in this case is of a combination of cow and horse poop (or “divots” as those of us immersed in the cowboy lifestyle prefer to call them). Note also my careful, and quite deliberate, use of the word “cows”. We’re in Texas here, not Wisconsin, so the female of the species has only one role in life. So it’s hardly worth the bother of distinguishing between them: cows, calves, bulls – they’re all just “cows” to us cowboys (otherwise, I suppose, we might be “calfboys”, and that wouldn’t suit the image at all).

Although the event is completely free, you’d be wise to dress appropriately. As is the case in the rest of life, the ladies can wear anything and get away with it. You guys should at least spring for the boots, jeans and belt-buckle. You can wear your Justin boots, but everyone will know you bought them at WalMart. Better stick to Lucchese or Mercedes – after all, a good pair of boots will last a lifetime: it’s not worth skimping. And not just any jeans. If you turn up in your stone-washed, aesthetically-ripped designer jeans, you’ll be laughed out of the arena. And forget Levi’s. It’s Wranglers. Dark blue. The finishing touches would include spurs and a hat. I don’t bother with the spurs, mostly because I find them difficult to drive in. As for the hat, I’m tall enough as it is – with built up heels and a hat I’d be hunched over in the car, so I give that a miss, too. Otherwise, I fit in pretty well.

Roping

Today’s event was … well, I don’t know what it’s called, but a friendly cowboy explained that they had to run a pattern (a sort of convoluted figure-of-eight) in the arena, then bring the horse to a sudden, sliding stop; then spin the horse around three times (the judges are looking for a rear foot firmly planted, and a fast spin); then do the same on the other side of the arena (sounds a bit like country dancing, doesn’t it?); then a “cow” (alright, alright, it’s really a calf) is let into the arena, and – well, you’re probably not interested in the details, but they have to move it around according to some bizarre rules known only within AQHA circles.

These were all teenagers, and a lot of them – from just about every state. I’ve never owned a horse, but I think there’s a lot of responsibility goes along with the job. Watching these kids, that was very evident. I’m sure they let their hair down just like everyone else, but they were all well-dressed, polite and well-behaved – unlike the hooligans that were running around in the hotel last night (I soon put a stop to that!).

So I’m learning a lot about horses, which makes me a little sad that the only time I did take riding lessons (a birthday gift from Val), I never got past the “me-going-down-when-the-horse-was-coming-up” stage. But I know enough not to longe when I’m not supposed to.