The Pigs: A Short Story

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

After raiding the Snakes with High Back Bone his father bestowed a great honor to him, the name of his father, and his father before him, Crazy Horse. As his feats on the battlefield grew, so did his reputation and respect among the Lakota people. As Crazy Horse was raiding the Crows for nearly a month, the love of his heart was taken away from him by another. With his heart broken, it took a long time until he had gotten over it.

At the barn, Jackson pulled out a black on white pinto named Duke and handed the reigns to Frank. Next, Jackson saddled Bandit and placed his rifle in the scabbard on the side of the saddle before grabbing two canteens off the shelf and handing one to Frank. After putting on his chaps and gloves with his belt knife secured to his belt, Jackson led his horse outside the barn and waited for Frank to catch up. Therefore, once Frank led his horse down the path to the road, Jackson put his left foot in the stirrup and in one practiced and fluid motion mounted his horse. Understandably, it took Frank a little longer to climb onto his horse, and in the meantime Jackson circled him, urging him to hurry up as well as showing off as he sidestepped his

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

Buck grew up on a ranch and being a ranchhand made him more intrigued in horses. He packed his things and set out to find work. After several rejections he set out to a convention to try and get help. Being avoided all day as people passed he had no choice but to stop someone and show them his book. “When he spilled his drink in the middle of my book, I took it away, slammed it shut, and said Thank you for your time” (Brannaman 78).

On Monday April 24th, Mr. Hill asked me to meet him at the barn to look at three steer he purchased and decide which one I wanted. As soon as I walked into the barn I knew which one I desired, it was the one and only Charolais in the group! Mr. Hill warned me that the

His pack mule kicked out and Levi cursed its previous owner. A poorly trained animal took a lot of work, but right now, it was all he could afford. He loaded the last bag of the provisions on the mule and pulled a tarp over the rest of his supplies. When he turned around, he locked eyes with his widowed sister-in-law Rose. She wrapped her hands around a smooth handled shovel and stabbed it into the ground.

The young cowboy was barely learning how to be an actual cowboy. The young cowboy had a horse but the horse was not completely his until he knew how to ride it. It was still his father’s, his father had two horses one from his father that had recently passed away in tragic way his own animals escaped and his horse came after him and

There was a young man named John who lived in the village his whole life. John has a pet named Nick, a horse John met 10 years ago lying near his house with a badly injured leg. John bandaged his legs and took good care of him until he was able to walk around freely. Ever since then Nick has became attached to John and followed him wherever he goes. A few years after, Nick grew big enough to carry John.

The howling of coyotes, sound of heavy horse hooves on packed dirt, and the accelerated breathe of the horse and myself were the only sounds I could hear as we bolted through the meadow. As I tried to avoid every hole and uneven patch of ground, Marty, my horse, kept his eye on the predators through the trees. We trusted each other, took care of each other, and our bond was built on trust.

The book “The Three Pigs” is written and illustrated by David Wiesner. Wiesner published the book in 2001, but won the Caldecott Medal for his illustrations in 2002. David Wiesner starts the story out with three pigs that go off on their own and decide to build their own houses. One pig built his house out of straw, one out of sticks, and one out of bricks. A wolf comes along to the house made out of straw and says “Little pig, little pig, let me in.”

The sad hose wandered into a dark forest seeking protection. As he was trudging down a meandering, forest path, he surprisingly encountered a sly fox. The fox approached the dejected horse and inquired why his head hung so low. The old horse moaned, “Because my master has sent me out to the forest and the only way I may return is if I capture a lion. Greed and loyalty don’t

The story of the “Three Little Pigs” has been around for a very long time. Parents have been telling their children this tale for generations. This story tells the narrative of three pigs, who construct their homes of three different materials, one straw, one wood and one brick. Then, comes along a Big Bad Wolf, who blows down two of the three homes and then focuses on tricking the final pig into coming out of his house so that he too, can be eaten. In this story, the third little pig, who made his home of brick, was the most admirable because he was clever, hard-working and courageous.

It was spring time. New vegetation had grown. The rabbit yearned for the fresh carrots which grew by the river. One afternoon, as the rabbit took a few hops, the horse asked, “Where are you going my friend?”

When the master saw that the horse had done the labor he was in aw but then he came to his senses he said that he would take care of the horse. When he said this the horse believed him but what he didn´t know is that the owner was thinking that a horse that could catch a lion by himself was worth more money than he could have ever thought. When the horse was in the stable that night he was dinning on all of his favorite foods and then he felt a sudden sharp pain. When he felt this he noticed a little green feather sticking off of his side and then he suddenly became very drowsy and passed out. When he woke he was in a giant metal trailer and he looked out the window and he was able to make out the words on a sign that said welcome to Spain.