By Luke Sauer
Nobody says Happy Birthday like a cowboy in Texas Starting our third season of the show in a land where everything is bigger, we battled 100-degree plus weather, a harsh barren landscape, camping in the elements and my 28th birthday. I had spent my last two celebrations on the road working on "Cash and Treasures" and all had their own eccentricities, but this year proved to be the most interesting yet.
Working the last few days on the Woodward Ranch looking for Red Plume Agate had been fun but exhausting. West Texas was in the middle of a heat wave, and we were all completely zapped of energy. No matter how much water or Gatorade we were able to choke down, it never seemed to be enough. Our bodies were on the brink of meltdown. So it was at 10 o'clock the evening of my birthday that we rolled into Railroad Blues, the most happening spot in the area.
Let me back up a bit to earlier that day. We were wrapping up our shoot at the ranch, and I was inside shooting some B-roll when Kirsten tapped me on the shoulder motioning that I should follow her out into the courtyard. Coming outside, I found her holding the reins of a horse patting his saddle, "Your birthday present!" Since we were already over budget on excess baggage, I figured that she meant a ride and not the animal itself. I know you may find it hard to imagine, but until that point, I had never been on a horse. I had ridden a donkey once as a kid in Mexico but somehow, that doesn't quite compare.
Being up in the saddle was more intimidating that I imagined For one, there are no brake levers and no handlebars, two things to which I am extremely accustomed. Secondly, it would be a big fall from that perch if it ever came down to it. I am not the most graceful person, and I am sure a fall from the top of a large animal certainly would not be an exception.
So climbing up on ol' Rusty or whatever his name was, I kind of slapped the reins around his neck a bit, like I had seen done so many times in Western movies, but nothing happened. The horse just stood there. I tried it again, this time with some sort of encouraging command like "Get on there!" or "Go, darn you!" but still nothing. Laughing, Kirsten came up to show me the finer points of driving a horse, "You have to give him a little kick it the gut!" Well I am not too sure about horses, but if someone kicked me in the gut as motivation, I sure as hell wouldn't do what they wanted! So prodding him with my heels, I was shocked as the horse lumbered to life and started chugging across the ranch.
Steering the horse seemed pretty simple, pull his head to the right he turned to the right pull his head left and he goes left. It seemed that if you could keep him going, as long as he was looking in the general direction of where you wanted to go there were no problems. I was feeling pretty good about my equine mastery when Kirsten came up and asked if I wanted to go faster. "Sure I do!" was my foolhardy answer. She told me to kick my heels into poor Rusty's gut again, and I swear she slapped the animal on the butt because in no time I was off running.
I consider myself to be a fairly coordinated individual with an average sense of balance, but riding at what felt like full speed ahead was something else. It didn¿t take but two seconds before I had no clue which way was up and which was left or right. I must have looked like one of those inflatable nylon personages used at car dealerships to garner attention. My arms were waving all around, and my body was rocking back and forth like I was possessed. John Wayne I was not.
Finally getting the animal to stop, I quickly dismounted and handed the reins off. I did my best to smile and thanked both Kirsten and Trey, the owner of the ranch, but I am sure my face showed relief at being back on the ground.
So back to the bar: We finished shooting a segment and all decided to sit down and have a cold drink. A band was playing, and the whole place was packed. I was just beginning to think that I had avoided any sort of embarrassing birthday revelry when I heard a voice like amplified gravel call out from behind me, "Hey Luke!" Horrified, I turned around to see the entire band and half of the bar staring at me. "Hey man, how old are you today?" the lead singer asked. Reluctantly I answered. "28!" "How have you gone 28 years and never been on a horse until today? Where are you from?" Before I could spit the word "California" out of my mouth, he struck up the band and began what either was the best or most terrifying rendition of "Happy Birthday" I have heard in all of my 28 years on this Earth. What a day!
RSS Feeds