Mickie, the Maple and Mischief

Mickie was one of those horses who just knew.  A beautiful buckskin she understood when her rider wanted to run through the field out of necessity or fun.  She knew when her rider was timid and scared. In this case, she would walk slowly, purposefully giving her rider a cautious trip without threat of accidental dismounting.  She could plow her way through the remnants of a blizzard to help her rider care for other animals on the farm. She was, by all accounts, a good horse.

Perhaps it was Mickie’s sweet, gentle, knowing nature that saved two fool boys one summer afternoon.  The boys – brothers – were around the ages of 10 and 12. As the saying goes, “old enough to know better, but still too young to care.”  They were growing up on a beautiful farm in a small close-knit farming community in the southern Appalachian mountains. It was the late 1950’s, maybe early 60’s.  The boys were expected to help on the farm and when it was time to play, they made their own fun. During these imaginative, inventive moments they often thought of wild adventures and enticing activities.  This was such a day.

In the boys’ front yard there were two large, gorgeous maple trees flanking the front of the white farmhouse forming the perfect frame for the lovely old structure.  The maples were both hundreds of years old with top branches that stretched beyond the rooftops. The boys longed to climb the trees. To journey to the top and see what they could see.

“I reckon,” Joe, the eldest of the boys said this fateful day, “I reckon Mickie could get us to the top of that tree.”

“Really?” Mark, the younger brother said sounding intrigued, “How?”

After talking it out a bit, the boys set out to put their solid fool-proof plan into action.  They saddled Mickie, gathered an exceptionally long rope, and made their way to the maple.

The plan was this: Loop one end of the rope around the saddle horn.  Throw the other end of the rope over the closest branch (which was still pretty high) and tie that end of the rope around the waist of a boy.  Next, the untethered boy would smack Mickie on the butt causing her to lunge forward at a gallop. The tension on the rope, these physics-minded young engineers figured, would pull the boy up in the tree.  They discussed the importance of the un-tethered boy to stop sweet Mickie at the same time the boy in the tree landed on the branch. Thus, allowing them something they had always dreamed about, being in the top of one of the maples.  They thought of just one problem. Which boy would be pulled to the top of the tree?

“I’m the smallest.” Mark stated eagerly, “She can pull me up easier.”

“Yeah,” conceded Joe, “you are the smallest.”  His voice was disappointed, but his eyes glinted with just the slightest bit of knowing.

So, the plan was put into action, the rope was tied around the saddle horn, thrown over the tree branch, and secured around Mark’s waist.  The boys were full of wonder, and butterflies, and excitement. They were both bouncing with anticipation.

“I’m ready,” Mark exclaimed. “Do it!”

Nodding, Joe held his breath and nudged Mickie on the rear. 

The brothers expected the horse to take off like a shot.  To propel Mark into the top of that tree so he could see their farm from the heavens in all its glory.  She did not. Instead the good, knowing horse slowly took one step and then another. Mark was barley inches off the ground when the saddle girth snapped.  The saddle slipped off the horse and dropped him to the ground with no more than a hard plop.

The brothers were sure disappointed, though they never tried that particular stunt again. Who knows how old they were before they realized Mickie had save a life that day.  Probably two, if their momma had ever found out what they were up to.

The brothers grew up.  They thought they had escaped their payback for their own rowdy childhood when they had two lovely daughters each.  Time has caught up with them now, as between them both, they have four rowdy grandsons (and 3 sweet granddaughters).