Hoofprints Across Time

Christy Wood

Description

Have you ever wanted to step back in time and ride in a wilderness that was rich in history? Then come with me back to 1877 and follow a trail the Nez Perce traveled in search of freedom. General O.O. Howard had orders to move the Nim-ee-poo onto a reservation and force them to live under white man’s rules. Chief Joseph refused and led nine-hundred people and two-thousand Appaloosa horses on a flight to freedom for thirteen-hundred miles. The exodus took its toll with winter setting in, starvation, skirmishes with the Cavalry, and the loss of life.

History has recorded the end of the trail and the outcome. But, to truly experience the Nez Perce National Historic Trail, you need to be in the saddle. This book will take you there, step by step by hoof print, boot, and moccasin, and your spirit will see the “Hoof Prints Across Time.”

Sujets

• Animal Sports
• Sports
• Horses
• Equestrian
• Recreation
• Horse
• Sport
• Sport équestre
• Sports équestres
• Sports équestres
• Sports équestres

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse
• Date de parution: 05 avril 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9798823005241
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Hoofprints Across Time
A Trail Ride to Remember
 
 
 
 
 
 
Christy Wood
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: [phone]
 
 
 
 
 
 
© 2023 Christy Wood. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse 04/05/2023
 
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0525-8 (sc)
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0523-4 (hc)
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0524-1 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023906273
 
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
CONTENTS
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Foreword
 
My Horse Life
Year One
Year Two
Year Three
Year Four
Year Five
Year Six
Year Seven
Year Eight
Year Nine
Year Ten
Year Eleven
Year Twelve
Year Thirteen
Conclusion
 
About The Author
DEDICATION
To Seymour Young Dog – my beloved friend – a true American Native!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It is said it takes a village when support is needed. My thirteen years on the Chief Joseph National Historic Trail has been successful due to the knowledge of the veterinarians at Lone Oak Large Animal Vet Clinic in Visalia, California. Thank you to Bill Bradley Horseshoeing of Hanford, California, for his expertise, talent, and devotion to keeping my horses sound and never losing a shoe in thirteen-hundred miles!
FOREWORD
Have you ever seen how blue the Wallowa Mountains are at dawn when the sun brings a new day? Or how the long stem wheatgrass of the valley meadows dance when a light breeze joins in? Then to look across those meadows at two thousand Appaloosa horses feeding their stomachs and souls from the peace found in this ancestral place.
This is what Chief Joseph absorbed in his being each morning of his childhood, adulthood, and then as inherited chief of the Nez Perce tribe. Tranquility and contentment covered his tribe, the Nim-me-poo, and their prized Appaloosa horses.
But the word so many of us dread in our happy lives is about to rear its ugly head: change. It comes as many questions: why now, why here, disbelief, disappointment, how do I fix this, and how do I move on? Chief Joseph will not live long enough to see the resolution of the tragedy of his people or horses. But history will remember his courage, diplomacy, resourcefulness, and will for survival. Chief Joseph will never know that his beloved Appaloosa horse will capture the hearts of a few men in 1938 who dedicated themselves to preserving this magnificent spotted animal. His flight to freedom will be recorded and written in many books. His memory will be kept alive through documents, film, pictures, ancestors, and most prominently, the historic Chief Joseph Trail Ride. This horseback ride was established in 1965 and follows the thirteen-hundred-mile trail Chief Joseph took to elude the U.S.Cavalry in 1877. He wanted to live in freedom and not under white man’s rules on a reservation. He wanted to remain a free man to travel, camp, train his horses, trade where he chose, and choose his own teachers and follow the religion of his fathers.
Chief Joseph gathered his nine hundred people and two thousand horses and set his sights on Canada to find sanctuary. Many of you know the ending, I will not tell you here. You need to follow me through the pages of this book to truly experience the history of the Nim-ee-poo trail. You will also meet the contemporary people who make this pilgrimage every year because of friendships, the history, and the beauty of riding the Appaloosa horse in reverence to the past.
This is not a historical document. The people in this book have all been given a Native American name to protect their privacy. The word Indian is used with the utmost respect, as a word that was used in early American history.
Within the pages of this book is what I have learned along the trail from descendants of Chief Joseph who ride with us and historians and park rangers who tell us of the events that took place in the region. I have listened to the great-great-great-great nephew of General O.O. Howard, who was assigned by President Ulysses S. Grant, to round up the Indians so more white settlers could move into the Pacific Northwest, tell his ancestor’s story of the struggle to change the lives of these peaceful Indians. Property owners have shared the stories of their great-great-grandparents meeting Chief Joseph as his tribe crossed their ranches and how peaceful they were. And finally, my Way-Ya-Kin spirit guide, who has shown me the past through the present in the form of bald eagles, hawks, deer, elk, moose, rivers, trees, and the wind on the mountains. Accompanying me on this journey was my mount for the thirteen-hundred miles, my beloved bay Appaloosa mare, Dollar. She absorbed this story daily in her heart and soul through her own Appaloosa heritage.
So, saddle up and ride the pages with me!
MY HORSE LIFE
Every story has a beginning. If you were to look back on yours and label each part like the piece of a puzzle, then you will see how they all came together to form the picture of your life. I was born in New Jersey as my dad completed his tour of duty in the Army on the East Coast. The first five years of my life were spent living by a lake that froze over in the winter. Snow was fun to play in but I was sick frequently being in the cold climate. When I was two years old, I became sick with the mumps and had to stay in bed for several weeks. It was difficult to breathe, swallow, or laugh. My older brother offered me some comfort in the form of a Palomino model horse. He placed it on the shelf above my bed. For days I stared at the beautiful model, studying every muscle, curve, and structure that formed a horse. I soon imagined myself riding this magnificent animal. I watched enough TV westerns that they gave me an idea on how to sit on the back of a horse and control one. I was starting down the path of obsession. My daily life as a young girl was consumed with everything that was related to a horse.
My dad received a job transfer with RCA, and our family was moved back to sunny California. My parents bought an acre of land in Tarzana with tall trees, and plenty of room for a corral, I thought. We had a tree in our side yard whose limb was low and parallel to the ground with a slight curve upward like a horse head. I would take a rope, make a pretend bridle, swing my leg over the branch, and ride this “horse” for hours.
As a teenager, when we’d earn enough money, my girlfriend and I would go to Griffith Park on Saturdays to rent two horses and ride the Hollywood Hills for a full day. We were allowed to ride bareback, and we always requested the same horses. Mine was a black mare. We rode for six hours and then Mom would come pick us up. I remember sitting in the back seat of the car and laughing so hard because we could not cross our legs from being sore. Still, it was all worth it.
I finally reached a point where I asked Mom and Dad if I could have a horse of my own. “Not at this time, Honey,” they would say. This went on for six months. Finally, they devised a plan that they thought would put an end to my badgering. “Okay, Christy, if you can raise enough money to buy your own horse and feed it for a year, then you can have one,” they told me. I had no idea how competitive I was until they challenged me. I worked at odd jobs and made the ultimate sacrifice for a young girl, to sell my prized thirty-count Breyer model horse collection. I sold them to buy the real thing. I was thirteen.
We started horse shopping and after looking at the different breed of horses, I chose an unregistered half-Arabian, half-Appaloosa mare. I named her Shannon Bay. We had many fun adventures together, like riding bareback in the rain near Mulholland Drive behind my home in Tarzana. On my next birthday, Mom gave me a used western saddle, and I rode with some friends at a stable down the road from my home.
When I learned the stable was putting on a horse show one weekend, I rode Shannon Bay down and sat atop her to watch the fun. I was intrigued with the precision riding that was going on in the arena. Class after class, the riders would walk, jog and lope at different speeds, turning their horses left, then right, and slide to a stop. They rode their horses over obstacles and in patterns. I was drawn in but not sure I could do that with all those people watching me. I was self-conscious like most teenage girls and, besides, I didn’t know how to get my horse to do all that. If I tried this at all, I would need to know what to do so I would not be embarrassed.
I rode home and talked to Mom. She made a few phone calls and found a woman who would meet me at a vacant lot for a one-hour lesson on how to show my horse. I did not want my friends at the stable to know what I was planning as I wanted to surprise them. In that one hour, I learned how to hold the reins properly, collect my horse to slow her down, ask and look for my correct leads, and present myself as a winner in the show arena. I was ready to give it a try. My mom borrowed a show saddl