Talk of 'horse meat' in markets gets attention

Recently, there was a news story that probably ticked off horse lovers everywhere. There is apparently an upswing in horse meat availability in grocery stores and meat markets.

To my knowledge, I've never eaten horse meat nor would my parents have approved of it. However, one of my brothers would've gladly sacrificed "Pony" to the slaughter house.

Our parents were born and raised in farmingranching operations. Dad was in it in some form or another all of his life. So, there was daily exposure of the "livestock binniss" for his four sons.

For the first eight years of my life, we lived on a farm-ranch out in the wide open spaces. We moved "to town" about the time of my eighth birthday and we took some rural practices with us.

The lot on which our "town home" was located was only 50-feet wide and about 150 feet deep with a fenced back yard. At one point, Dad decided his sons needed a horse to ride, so he purchased a Shetland pony for me and next-oldest brother.

The only place to keep "Pony" was in that fenced back yard. Part of the "fence/barrier" on one side of the yard was a garage, which could be entered from the back yard by a regular door. Entrance and exit on the other side of the house was a normal gate through which perhaps two people could squeeze side by side. Also contained in that back yard was Mom's vegetable garden, plus there were clotheslines because she believed that sunshine was best for drying clothes.

There was an attachment to the back of the garage that was for storage, so that's where Pony's feed and gear to ride him were stored. Saddling him and feeding him were my responsibility since my brothers were too young.

Naturally, Mother was somewhat disenchanted with Dad's purchase of Pony, especially housing him in "her" back yard.

I was allowed to ride Pony within about an eight-block radius of our home and frequently required to take the next oldest brother with me. Brother No. 3 was still a toddler and Mother wouldn't allow us to put him on Pony. Brother No. 4 was still just a twinkle in Dad's eye.

Pony was an ornery critter with a mind of his own. Dad told me to use the rein-ends on him if need be to get his attention. However, Dad had never ridden him or he would've known that an eight-foot cedar fence post was more appropriate for "controlling" Pony.

Much of the time I rode around the neighborhood by myself but, as mentioned, sometimes had to carry next-oldest brother behind me on Pony's backside.

Sometimes, Pony took offense at me, his "master," riding him but he was downright ticked off when I foisted little brother on him.

On one such occasion, we managed to make about that eight-square-block run but made the mistake of circling within eyeshot of the house. That's when Pony's orneriness surfaced and he decided he'd had enough of this two-kidson his-back routine. He headed for the house and "his" back yard. He went through that narrow back gate at a substantial trot, skinning my ankles in the process.

Then, the clothes lines loomed and I ducked. Little brother was not so lucky and Mother's 10-gauge line caught him across the bridge of his nose sending him in a predictable flip off Pony's backside. Fortunately, the nose abrasion and my skinned ankles were the only damage and neither was serious enough for anything but a little first aid.

Little brother still bears a slight scar on the bridge of his nose and, to this day, maintains that I saw the clothes line soon enough to warn him and prevent his undignified dismount.

Did not.

(Willis Webb is a retired community newspaper editor publisher of more than 50 years experience. He can be reached by email at wwebb@wildblue.net.)