Descriptive Essay Rodeo

Traveling is one of my family’s favorite things to do. The family has visited numerous places throughout the United States, however, none are as memorable as Atlanta, Georgia. In Atlanta, there are many places to go and sights to see such as: Cola-cola factory, Cabbage Patch Kids Factory, Under Ground Mall, the Zoo, Atlanta Braves Stadium, Six Flags Over Georgia, Stone Mountain Park, and the Atlanta Aquarium, are all in or near the city of Atlanta. The three that we visit on every trip to Atlanta are Six Flags, Stone Mountain, and the Atlanta Aquarium.

Leading the horse to the adjoining pasture, Jackson buttoned his coat, put on his gloves, pulled his stocking hat over his ears and put his cowboy hat over the top Since it was March and there was still a good bit of snow on the ground, he didn’t intend to go far, it was too cold for that. All he wanted was to get the feel of the horse and see how well he responded to him as a rider. For his first ride, he already had quite the audience on the other side of the fence. He mounted the horse and had quite the audience on the other side of the fence for his first ride. Taking the reins, he mounted his horse and queued him into a walk using his voice and legs. Once they were going he put the horse through his paces, first at a trot and then a full

Every day I would lug myself out of my bed while my alarm clock flashed 5:30 AM in bright red. I would forage though my dresser for a pair of worn out Wranglers, which I would match with an old button down shirt. I would slink down the stairs and out into the garage where I kept my aged boots and hat. I would restlessly pull the black square-toed boots over my tried feet and position the old dusty brown cowgirl hat on my head before I made my way to the barn. When I got to the barn I would gather up the eight main horses and lead them into the barn three at a time, and into their stalls. While the horses were preoccupied with their morning grain and hay, I would try to groom the young, untamed horses without getting my face kicked in. Once, they finished their meal I would lead them out to the pulling fence that was made out of large log telephone poles. The pulling fence was the site where these young horses would learn some hard life lessons. When I had fed all the older horses I would move on to the north pasture and gather up the colts and yearlings. I would repeat the same feeding and grooming regimen with them. All in all before I had my own breakfast, I would have seventeen horses curried, fed and tethered to the fence of the

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mom running out to Kelsey. In that moment, I suddenly knew what I needed to do. With a clarity that I can’t remember having before that day, I became focused and knew what needed to be done. My mom had rushed to my sister’s side, but that had left my three year old sister, Katelyn, on her pony unattended. I quickly trotted my horse towards her, dismounted, took control of both horses, and helped Katelyn off her pony. The ambulance would soon be arriving and I had to get all the horses, including the spooked mare, into the stable. A spooked horse can be extremely dangerous if no one takes control. My task was clear. I was the one who needed to corral that mare. I swallowed my fear and approached the mare. The mare’s wide eyes told me that she was still spooked and could be unpredictable. My mom’s words came to mind, “Get in front. Take the lead.” While still holding the reins of the two other horses, I reached out and grabbed the mare’s dangling reins. With Katelyn a few steps ahead of me, I led the three hoses to their stalls. When Katelyn was safely sitting on a bench where I could see her, I still had to remove the bridles and saddles of all the horses, who could have easily rejected my awkward and inexperienced handling. The ambulance and rescue workers had now arrived, and I knew that soon my mom and Kelsey would be headed to the hospital. The responsibility for the

Tanka was a stubborn and sassy sorrel mare. I really didn’t ride her on my own because she probably would’ve taken advantage of me being a beginner. Since I couldn’t ride her on my own my sister Lisa usually rode along on Tanka while I sat behind the saddle, holding on to the edge of it for dear life. One cloudy mid September day my mom decided we should go on a trail ride. Since we didn’t have enough horses for everyone who wanted to come on the ride, my mom came up with a plan.

In Schwenksville, Pennsylvania, during the summer of 2016, and event occurred that gifted me with a new perspective. My family had just concluded dinner with my dad’s friend and his wife, and the adults were outside with my mom’s horse, Chip. My dog, Sally, was injured by a blow to the head from his hoof, which threw us into distress over possible outcomes. This event took place because Sally, a foolish boxer, was jumping behind Chip, while my dad’s friend’s wife attempted to mount. Being an optimist, I was counting on Sally’s survival, despite the seriousness of the situation. My misery was obvious, but this story unfolds into more than simple sorrow.

As I bounced along in the saddle, holding onto Dogger as if my life depended on it, he pristinely sat perched upon the saddle with ease as if we weren’t galloping at lightning speed across the field. The wind blew across my face as I pondered how to tell Dr. Liveseys all that had happened that night. About midnight, while the moon was straight up above us, I could see the shadow of the other men who had accompanied Dogger in his rescuing of me and my mother. I looked to my right and recognized the shopkeeper Mr. Tressler; I gave him a friendly wave and he nodded in return. I looked over to my left and was surprised to see a chestnut colored horse carrying the newest inhabitant of our town, a man who had identified himself as Barry. I looked

While on the way to the fields we are passing through Oklahoma when the truck starts jerking. Brian's cell phone had just muttered the words that were least appealing at the moment. The fuel pump on Brian's truck had just went out and we looked at each other and we both knew what had happened. “We don't have time for this” ,i muttered, “we have to make it to Kansas and be set up in the blind in 5 hours and we

My Uncle Bob lives on a horse ranch in a small town in southern Wyoming. Seldom do we visit our family out west, but for a couple weeks the summer I turned seven, we did. This was the first time I had been to my Uncle’s horse ranch ever since I was about four months old. When we visited before I was too young to ride them, so this was a whole new experience for me. I was fascinated with horses even though I had never been around one. I had seen pictures of horses and watched movies about horses, but I had never in my life ridden a horse or been close to one. Throughout our visit it was rainy almost everyday, but one day when I peeked through the blinds the sun was shining. I grabbed my aunt, my uncle and my cousins and told them that now was our chance to ride.

Although, Straight Line was hurt, I refused to give up, I endlessly searched to locate a replacement horse. Thus came Princess, a buckskin mare that I borrowed from an acquaintance of my sisters. My mother and I traveled to Goodland for a little test run and at the end of the day we hauled her home. Thrilled is not a word I would use to describe the idea of running on her, but what choice did I have. I needed a horse, any horse to ride at the finals, since Straight Line was no longer able to run. Princess and my personalities clashed, there is only room for one princess and I already occupied that position. Trust me when I say that typically mares have bigger attitudes, than most teenage girls. Even though, I gave it my best shot, considering my situation, we just could not find a rhythm together. Despite of my efforts, I knew it was going to be a long week as I unsaddled her after the worst practice that I had ever had. Consequently, I remember walking to the barn from the arena and feeling the blood run down my leg from clobbering the barrels. I had bruises, all up and down my legs, from plowing into barrels during our one and only practice. Finals were approaching fast and I could

The keypad to the barn door was cold to the touch as i entered the code into the lock. As i entered the barn, the smell of hay and horses flooded the air. The smell reminded me of why i love this as much as i do. I walked to my horse's stall with a handful of apple flavored treats, and waited until her velvety nose and cat like whiskers filled the palm of my hand to take her treats. She blew her warm breath at me and the musical munching of the treats filled the crisp air around us. The horses in the stalls around us are creating the white sound munching on their hay, and the barn cats run silently past on the pads of their feet, hunting for their next meal. All the tack closets sit full of freshly oiled bridles and saddles, and freshly washed

Morgan had not a clue how to ride the four legged real barn animal. She was very comfortable with pretending that she was the best competitor in the world with her plastic barn animals. We stepped into the barn where you can see stall after stall of neutral colored horses. My horse, Austin, was black, and a little undersized, and perfect for a beginner. She couldn’t wait any longer, so as soon she got on the horse, she told me It felt natural, she wasn’t scared. It did not take her very long to learn how to steer the majestic earthly creature. The more she coiled around the barn the wider her smile got. After a while she settled getting her own trainor.

“Do you think Brandon will let me ride Buck, Mom?” I asked. It was not the first time I had asked. I hardly slept the night before out of excitement for this day. “I am sure that you can ask him. He has always been good about giving you a ride on his horse. I think that today won’t be any different, sweetheart.” My mom patiently answered. “But now I really need you to clean up your room before we go, remember the longer it takes the later we will leave.” It took no further urging, I raced to my room and began to pick up the toy horses that were scattered along the floor where I had been playing with them. I also straightened my books into a pile by my nightstand, Western Rider and Western Horseman magazines that I had subscribed to

The wind howled louder each time Paul spoke the name of the race horse. Worried, She pulled Paul and wrapped him in her arms. She felt the vibrating, muffled moans seep from Paul’s buried head. This time she heard another voice inside the room, but they were alone, right? She turned her head to the rocking horse that was subtly swaying back and forth. Face to face, she stared at the horse’s large, glassy eyes. The horse’s once goofy expression seemed unsettling and it almost appeared as if it was crudely taunting her. Chills ran down her spine and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. A faint wheeze escaped from its mouth. Wide eyed and disturbed, she laid Paul down daintily, stood up from the bed, and began backing away slowly, until she heard a ghastly shout!

It was January 2013. I suppose I had known this would come. After Dad had started coming home later each night, more exhausted and drained than usual, I began to realize that our current residence might not be as permanent as I had wanted. We had relocated here, to the outskirts of Humboldt, Tennessee, four and a half short years before, to have enough acreage for our horse Clyde to stay at home. Our previous location in the city had not allowed for that, and stable boarding expenses were piling up. In the country, we could go riding any time we wanted, without having to make a long drive to the stables. We began to like this, and fell into a routine. Dad had now had his job for eight years, and I expected everything to stay the same as it had been. I was in for a surprise.