Prime_Time_winter_2019

Paul Marchant | Rancher/Columnist | idahomarchant@gmail.com REFLECT IONS AND RECOLLECT IONS Irons in the Fire

Horse Poor and Spare Parts

W ay back, two or three decades ago, I spent the summer between semes- ters at college working on a ranch for a couple with five kids. I remem- ber the parents lament- ing to me one day about

funny little cowboy witticism, depending on my ultimate reaction to the statement. “You know, you can’t keep him for spare parts,” he deadpanned. As much as I know he’s right, it doesn’t make life’s hard choices any easier. There isn’t much joy that accompanies the task of getting rid of an old or crippled horse, or putting down your old dog. I’m not particu- larly fond of sorting off the open cows into the cull pen or sending my kids off to col- lege or kindergarten. There’s often something blatantly incon- gruous with doing the right thing. That’s the bitter truth and a bitter pill to swallow. Why is the right choice so often the hard choice? Why is it that so often the payoff and reward for making the right decision is so far down the road? Wouldn’t an im- mediate payout be nice once in a while? Wouldn’t it have been cool to get an adren- aline rush and a pile of cash when you had to ground your son from the dance after the Friday night football game because you caught him skipping class and neglecting his chores? Instead of the sound of coins clanging from the slot machine, the only change you got was a hateful glare and a slam- ming door. In the moment, it’s pretty tough to come to terms with the hope, more than the fact, that this is a long-term investment. When, and if, payment on life’s momentari- ly crappy investment decisions comes, you may not even realize it. But doing the right thing and making the hard choice will pay for itself, even if you aren’t necessarily the one who cashes the check. I’m guessing, though, that when the daughter who argued with everything you ever said during her entire high school career gets a perfect score on her master’s thesis, and that former, compost-for-brains

their lack of good horses and how tough it was to keep all five kids adequately mounted. I secretly scoffed at the notion and told my new wife that I found it ri- diculous that they found it necessary to keep and service a remuda big enough to service a Custer-era platoon, just so their 5-year-old could spend an hour or two atop a horse every once in a while when they moved cows. It was only about 15 years later that my wife reminded me of that conversation as we scrambled to keep enough half-decent horses around the place so each one of my own five kids could be well-enough mount- ed to help push the cows on the mountain or pose for the annual Christmas card picture. We’ve been horse poor for as long as we’ve been parents. We either have too many poor horses or too few good ones. A couple weeks ago, I ran into a friend of mine. I’d bought a nice little gelding from him three years ago. A year ago, the horse somehow ripped the hide off his right hind leg, just below the hock. After months of attentive doctoring and TLC, all I have to show for it is a past due account with the vet and a three-legged horse. I knew quite a while ago it was a lost cause. The leg is never going to heal. My horse trader friend asked me if I’d “taken care” of the crippled pony, yet. I of course answered in the negative. I told him I hadn’t mustered up the heart or stom- ach to do what needed to be done. He then gave me some sage advice, or simply a

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Akaushi Prime Time • Winter 2019

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