I Surrender All
Lesson From a Horse and a Rattlesnake
My friend is Crow. She invited me to help a Native family round up their cattle from the Little Big Horn on the Crow Reservation. On our trip out to Montana we noticed an unusual number of bears. When we arrived at our base camp, we were startled to find a cow with her head knocked half off by the single swat of a very large bear. It was rumored that some bears from Yellowstone had been released into the Little Big Horn.
My mount for our three-day round-up was a very large red and white paint who soon gained my deep respect for his surefootedness. He was head shy and cautious, while possessing amazing strength and endurance. I assumed that someone had beat him around the head, so I vowed to gently gain his trust. At the time I didn’t know how important that decision would be.
Our mission was to round up 400 head of cattle from the mountains and bring them down to base camp. It took a couple of long days of riding to locate most of the cattle.
Well into the first day, we realized how right we had been about the prevalence of bears. Berries were stripped, logs clawed for ants, and bear droppings dotted the trails. Several times a day we would sight a bear in the distance. Needless to say, we were cautious and constantly singing to alert the bears of our presence. We definitely did not want to surprise a bear or get caught in an aspen grove with one. We knew that the bears could outrun our mounts.
Near the end of the third day we had succeeded in collecting almost all the herd and were working them back toward our base camp, which sat at the end of a long mountain draw. Ole’ Sure Foot and I were riding at the back of the herd when a lone cow decided to turn up the side of the canyon wall and head to an aspen grove topside of the draw. Knowing that my mount was very sure-footed, I decided to race ahead, cut up a rocky canyon trail and get between the cow and the grove. We all wanted to avoid the chance of meeting up with a bear in that aspen grove.
The plan was working until my mount and I lunged up over the top of the canyon trail only to land in a very active rattlesnake pit. Sure Foot’s hooves came down with a thud in the middle of a community of rattlesnakes standing at full attention and rattling to beat the band. I found myself thrown into a hightened state of awareness, simultaneously terrorized and deeply peaceful. Sure Foot froze where he stood, statuesque, not moving a muscle. I melted into his body and we became one. In this moment I totally understood what it meant to “surrender.”
A silent voice spoke out top the rattlesnakes from our One Heart. “Oops! We apologize for landing in your living room. Please grant us peaceful passage.”
An eternity passed in those few seconds, and then the largest snake of all came down from his point and slowly slithered backward. He must have been the Chief because all the surrounding snakes followed his lead. The path they left was no more than five feet wide. With the greatest of dignity and aplomb, ole’ Sure Foot walked from that pit in the slowest of “slow motion.” I often joke and say, “It was as if he was on quaaludes!” I remained unmoving, one with my mount.
When he cleared the pit, he tucked his tail and leapt from harm’s way.
It is well known that horses are terrified of snakes and will typically explode in their presence. On this day, Ole’ Sure Foot earned a life of leisure with me on our ranch in Oklahoma. We named him Sedona Sure Foot and brought him home where he has lived for the past 20 years.
Sedona has learned to trust us and he has earned the title of “Professor” here on The Ranch. It is Ole’ Sedona Sure Foot who leads the young colts on all their early trail rides and teaches them patience, trust, and surrender to our touch. Sedona Sure Foot saved my life and taught me the power of surrender.
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