Speaker 1: Welcome to this Country Life. I'm your host, Brent Reeves
Speaker 1: from coon hunting to trot lining and just general country living.
Speaker 1: I want you to stay a while as I share
Speaker 1: my stories and the country skills that will help you
Speaker 1: beat the system. This Country Life is proudly presented as
Speaker 1: part of Meat Eater's podcast network, bringing you the best
Speaker 1: outdoor podcast the airways have to offer. All right, friends,
Speaker 1: pull you up a chair or drop that tailgate. I
Speaker 1: think I got a thing or two. The teacher, What's
Speaker 1: in a name? Have you ever thought where some names
Speaker 1: come from? Why is old Spot called Old Spot? Well, well,
Speaker 1: the answer to that may be obvious, But what about
Speaker 1: sea biscuit Ren ten ten or Old McDonald's faithful sidekick.
Speaker 1: What's in a name? And should we put more thought
Speaker 1: into it? Since there may be a chance you could
Speaker 1: be raising a historically significant human being or an animal.
Speaker 1: That's the subject today, and I'm going to talk all
Speaker 1: about it. But first I'm going to tell you a story.
Speaker 1: Back around nineteen eighty eight, I was working for Georgia
Speaker 1: Pacific and renting a house with a barn, a pond,
Speaker 1: and a pasture not far from where I grew up.
Speaker 1: My brother Tim and I had yet to start our
Speaker 1: duck and gooseguid in business, so I still had time
Speaker 1: to for all my other hunting passions, and squirrel hunting
Speaker 1: with dogs off horses was right up there at the top.
Speaker 1: My dad, as I've sat on here before, was a
Speaker 1: tree dog man from way back. The line of mountain
Speaker 1: kerk tree dogs that we had had come from a
Speaker 1: long line of dogs that had started way before I
Speaker 1: was born. There was Bob, Trixie, Tip, Sambo, Prissy, and
Speaker 1: and others like Buck. Now don't confuse him with Dad's
Speaker 1: huge buckskin horse whose name was also Buck, but Buck
Speaker 1: the mountain kerr, who was the last squirrel dog to
Speaker 1: hold that rank of being my dad's last dog. But
Speaker 1: this isn't a dog story, it's horse story, a story
Speaker 1: of perseverance and persistence. I didn't make a lot of money,
Speaker 1: having just gone to work, but I could afford horse feed.
Speaker 1: So my dad and a friend of his were at
Speaker 1: a horse sale and ate of Oklahoma one weekend and
Speaker 1: he called me to tell me, said, son, check the
Speaker 1: fence around your pasture and get a stall in your
Speaker 1: barn squared away and go get some horse feed. I'm
Speaker 1: bringing you a horse. I was beyond excited, so being
Speaker 1: a good son, or trying to be, I did exactly
Speaker 1: what he told me to do. I walked the fence,
Speaker 1: I made sure there was no gaps. I prepared a
Speaker 1: stall for the new member of the family the dad
Speaker 1: was bringing me, and made a run to the feed store.
Speaker 1: Well that night, around midnight, Dad rolled in with a
Speaker 1: regsted sorrow quarter horse named Ken's Reward. I let him
Speaker 1: off the trailer and through the gate and into the lot,
Speaker 1: and I secured him for the night in his stall.
Speaker 1: Dad said, start early in the morning, get him brushed off,
Speaker 1: feed him, lead him around, and start getting him used
Speaker 1: to you. I couldn't wait. I could hardly sleep. Tomorrow's Saturday,
Speaker 1: and I'd have all day to start working with his
Speaker 1: horse together. Kin's Reward. Now, I were going to dominate
Speaker 1: the squirrel woods this winter. By the time all the
Speaker 1: leaves hit the ground, I'd have a woods horse that
Speaker 1: was as solid as Dad's old buck, the buckskin horse,
Speaker 1: not the mounta Kirk. The Dad pulled in about the
Speaker 1: time the coffee stopped dripping, and after a little breakfast,
Speaker 1: we went to the barn. He'd brought me a good
Speaker 1: Herford saddle, a couple of blankets, and a brand new
Speaker 1: headstall and set of reins. I was set. I had
Speaker 1: an open pasture with good grass, a spring fed pond
Speaker 1: that wouldn't turn over in the summertime, and a barn
Speaker 1: that was older than anyone I knew, but was solid
Speaker 1: with a good roof. Dad had just added the last
Speaker 1: component to complete the circle, a fine bread American quarter horse.
Speaker 1: I rigged up some haystring and hung my saddle from
Speaker 1: a rafter, and then A fed my horse. Then while
Speaker 1: we watched him e Dad told me the story of
Speaker 1: how he came to buy him. He gone to the
Speaker 1: cell with one of his best friends in the whole world,
Speaker 1: mister Steve Ashcraft. And mister Steve is a wonderful man,
Speaker 1: and I love him and his whole family. They're good folks,
Speaker 1: they're real good folks. But he said, me and Steve
Speaker 1: went to the sale looking for something for you specifically,
Speaker 1: and when this horse came up, we both knew he'd
Speaker 1: be what you wanted, and I got him at a
Speaker 1: good price. So, for some reason, and I can't think
Speaker 1: of one, but for some reason, if he don't work out,
Speaker 1: we can get him money back on him, and we'll
Speaker 1: get you another. Sounds good to me, Dad, I can't
Speaker 1: thank you enough for getting him for me. We just
Speaker 1: stared at him. He was slick as a minute. After
Speaker 1: I brushed him off. Dad looked at his feet. He'd
Speaker 1: eventually need to be shod, but I wouldn't be hitting
Speaker 1: the gravel for quite a while, and I had plenty
Speaker 1: of good pasture to ride him in until we did. Now.
Speaker 1: I don't remember exactly how it came up in the conversation,
Speaker 1: but I do remember the change in Dad's tone of
Speaker 1: voice when he said, Now, this horse comes from rodeo stock.
Speaker 1: He wouldn't buck to suit them folks, so they broke
Speaker 1: him and used him as a ranch horse. I didn't
Speaker 1: even acknowledge it. He said the word buck. I slid
Speaker 1: right over it, and I asked, you can rope off
Speaker 1: of him? Dad said, that's what the man said. Cool,
Speaker 1: he must be pretty solid. He sure looks it. We
Speaker 1: walked back up to the house and had another cup
Speaker 1: of coffee, and Dad took off to whatever he had
Speaker 1: planned for the rest of the day. Now, my job
Speaker 1: was to get this horse used to me. I let
Speaker 1: him around the lot, changing directions, telling him whoe even
Speaker 1: had him trotting a couple of times. And this was
Speaker 1: going to be easier and quicker than any of us thought.
Speaker 1: Dad said, let him get good and used to you.
Speaker 1: Let him see that you're on his side before you
Speaker 1: saddle him up, Feed him, pet him up, brush him good.
Speaker 1: Just interact with him, show him who's the boss. Then
Speaker 1: saddle him up, put his butt to work for you,
Speaker 1: ride the hair slap off of him in that pasture. Hey,
Speaker 1: that's easy enough for me. I've been riding horses all
Speaker 1: my life. I ain't scared of them. I respected them
Speaker 1: because they were a lot bigger than me. But I
Speaker 1: grew up riding horses that my dad had broke to
Speaker 1: the point that I could stand up in the saddle
Speaker 1: and pull vines to make a squirrel move, with limbs
Speaker 1: and leaves falling all over the horses head and ears,
Speaker 1: and they not move a muscle. Old buck, the horse,
Speaker 1: not the mountain kerk. I have stood in the saddle
Speaker 1: and fired a shotgun over his head at a running
Speaker 1: squirrel and his ears didn't even he was solid. Now
Speaker 1: That's what I'm used to dealing with. They didn't all
Speaker 1: come that way. Ken's reward would fall into the latter category.
Speaker 1: I wondered about that name. Who was Ken? And how
Speaker 1: was this horse his reward? I just assumed Ken was
Speaker 1: the boss cowboy at the ranch in West Texas where
Speaker 1: he came from. Yep, West Texas. He was sold through
Speaker 1: a horse auction in Oklahoma. But old Kin's reward was
Speaker 1: a bonafide cow pony from West Texas. And it just
Speaker 1: didn't get any more wild and western than that. Or so,
Speaker 1: I thought everything was going good. He was taking to
Speaker 1: his stall and his new digs, you know, fairly well.
Speaker 1: He was leading around the lot like a champ, coming
Speaker 1: up to me whenever I called him and shook the
Speaker 1: feed bucket, and had yet to display anything other than
Speaker 1: acknowledging my right to live alongside him as he he
Speaker 1: ate the feed from my bucket. I might as well
Speaker 1: go ahead and saddle this rascal up. By the time
Speaker 1: Dad comes back through to check on me this evening,
Speaker 1: I'll have a rut walked around that pasture edge, and
Speaker 1: this horse will do my bidding as well as a
Speaker 1: Lavador retriever. Dad's going to be so proud of me.
Speaker 1: I led Ken over to the fence and I tied
Speaker 1: his halter off. I grabbed a headstall and placed the
Speaker 1: bit in his mouth without much trouble, and I saddled
Speaker 1: him up with a relative ease. This cat had gotten
Speaker 1: the memo. I don't know what had taken place out
Speaker 1: in West Texas, but in South Arkansas, the new sheriff
Speaker 1: in town was yours, truly, and I was running this show.
Speaker 1: I sence that front gird up tight as a fiddle string.
Speaker 1: I knew it would loosen up, you know, after we
Speaker 1: made a few laps around the pasture. But I wanted
Speaker 1: a good tight seat when this started, and I didn't
Speaker 1: want to have to slow down his workout once it
Speaker 1: did to retighten that saddle. I was working against the clock.
Speaker 1: By the time Dad came through, I was going to
Speaker 1: have him retrieving ducks and making biscuits. There had been
Speaker 1: no issues during any of the saddling. His ears, his
Speaker 1: eyes were they were just as relaxed as they had
Speaker 1: been while he was eating or when I was brushing
Speaker 1: him down. It was just another day. I'm thinking, my
Speaker 1: dad stole this horse from that sail barn because whoever
Speaker 1: had him had seriously missjudged this kabayo's value. My left
Speaker 1: foot went in the stirrup and I swung my right
Speaker 1: leg over and the moment myle behind hit the saddle,
Speaker 1: I felt him suck in a big belly full of air.
Speaker 1: I leaned forward. I was talking to him while I
Speaker 1: patted him on the neck, just reassuring him that all
Speaker 1: was good and that we were going to be pals.
Speaker 1: I reached down and untied his lead rope from that
Speaker 1: fence and I dabed it around the saddle horn. Now
Speaker 1: I gave him just a little left hand rein and
Speaker 1: he turned sharp as a cutting horse. Spied the gate
Speaker 1: out open just before saddled him up, and I assume
Speaker 1: had a flashback to his rodeo days. His eyes rolled
Speaker 1: back in his head. He pinned his ears back, dropped
Speaker 1: his head, and pitched me over the fence I had
Speaker 1: him tied to like he had just flicked a cigarette
Speaker 1: butt out of the truck window. All the air left
Speaker 1: in one big grunt as gravity took hold of me
Speaker 1: between the gate and the fence post. I was laying
Speaker 1: flat on my back, holding the reins in my right
Speaker 1: hand and looking back over the top of my head
Speaker 1: at kend Reward, who was just chilling looking back at me.
Speaker 1: I sat up, and I looked around. Nobody saw that
Speaker 1: except for me and this horse, and I wasn't gonna
Speaker 1: tell nobody, and he didn't know anyone but me, so
Speaker 1: having never turned the reins loose, I climbed right back
Speaker 1: on top of him, and he shot out of that
Speaker 1: barn lot like a cannon ball, bucking and crow hopping,
Speaker 1: after running about forty yards. Now, I'd like to say
Speaker 1: that I rode him during all that, but truth being known,
Speaker 1: I was stuck in the ground like a yard dart.
Speaker 1: After about the first thirty yards, I wiped the dirt
Speaker 1: off my face, and as best I could, I walked
Speaker 1: over to kens re Ward, who by now was just
Speaker 1: standing there amongst a tangled set of reins and a
Speaker 1: dangling lead rope. He just chilling like nothing had taken place.
Speaker 1: I walked right up to him. He never flinched, he
Speaker 1: just looked at me. Now, nothing on me hurt at
Speaker 1: the moment, and it had been somewhat to my advantage
Speaker 1: that he had stopped where he did. The ground was
Speaker 1: a little soft there. It was a little low spot
Speaker 1: about twenty yards or so above where that pond started,
Speaker 1: a kind of a little seap where it was always soft,
Speaker 1: even in the summertime. I knew what I was gonna do.
Speaker 1: I fixedly get right back on this joker, and we're
Speaker 1: gonna walk around in this soft ground till we dig
Speaker 1: a hole of china. He gonna have to work double
Speaker 1: hard to buck and cut up in this soft ground,
Speaker 1: sinking up to his pastorns with about every step. And
Speaker 1: after ten minutes or so, I figured, I'll have his
Speaker 1: attention to the point where he'll recognize who's running this show.
Speaker 1: And that's just what I did. I climbed right back
Speaker 1: on top of him, and he went right back to
Speaker 1: bucking like he had a license to fly. The soft
Speaker 1: ground worked great, but only to break my father. He
Speaker 1: didn't seem to be having a lot of issues with it.
Speaker 1: Speaking of bucket, I was having a little trouble understanding
Speaker 1: the issue that old Ken was having with Ken's reward
Speaker 1: in the bucking category. From where I was occasionally momentarily sitting,
Speaker 1: I thought he was doing really, really well. He threw
Speaker 1: me all four times before he quit bucking, and I
Speaker 1: just kept putting him in that low spot, making figure
Speaker 1: hs back and forth left and right. We were both
Speaker 1: leathered up pretty good. Finally I had the upper hand.
Speaker 1: It had been a rough go, but I had it
Speaker 1: going my way. I wrote him back to the barn
Speaker 1: and was taking off his saddle when Dad walked up.
Speaker 1: I told him everything that had happened. He said, Son,
Speaker 1: you need to act right, stick an act right stick Yep,
Speaker 1: you need a little stick. Then when he does that
Speaker 1: bucket again and he will, you give him one in
Speaker 1: the top of the head and show him move's running
Speaker 1: the show. Ah, the caveman approach. I liked it, so
Speaker 1: that's what I did. That evening, I went down to
Speaker 1: my brother Tim's house and borrowed a tea ball bat
Speaker 1: from one of my nephews, and the next morning, right
Speaker 1: after daylight, I was saddling up Ken's reward for the
Speaker 1: final installment of his lesson. It was going to be
Speaker 1: his semester test and would determine his future. On the
Speaker 1: ponderosa bat in my right hand and left foot and stirrup.
Speaker 1: I swung my right leg over and settled in the saddle.
Speaker 1: I gave him just the nudge with my heels and
Speaker 1: it was the Calgary Stampede all over again. I was
Speaker 1: struggling to stay in the saddle, and he was doing
Speaker 1: everything he could to show me the other side of
Speaker 1: the moon. I swung at him with a bat and
Speaker 1: hit his right ear. He grabbed a gear, and neither
Speaker 1: of us knew he had, and I swear Larry Mayhan
Speaker 1: would have bailed off on him. Don't know who Larry
Speaker 1: Mayhon is. Look him up, But Larry wasn't sitting straddled
Speaker 1: this killer. I was, and doing all the math I
Speaker 1: could muster in that time. I calculated that I would
Speaker 1: be rejoining Terra Firma within the next few seconds if
Speaker 1: something drastic didn't change. I swung once more for that
Speaker 1: spot I had picked out between his ears and connected.
Speaker 1: It sounded like Mickey Mantle had just smashed one over
Speaker 1: the fence, and Ken's reward fell like a one egg
Speaker 1: pudding and laid over on the ground. I just stepped
Speaker 1: off of him, holding the reins in my left hand
Speaker 1: and my act right sticking my right. He didn't move,
Speaker 1: and I just stood there, wondering how I was gonna
Speaker 1: tell my dad had just killed the horse he had
Speaker 1: bought from me the day before. Then Old Ken blinked
Speaker 1: his eyes and stood up, and as he was standing up,
Speaker 1: I swung my left leg over him, and when he
Speaker 1: was upright, I was sitting in that saddle just like
Speaker 1: I had never left. I nudged him with my heels,
Speaker 1: and he walked like a gentleman in every direction I
Speaker 1: rained him to go. He was a different horse. The
Speaker 1: act right stick had worked. I rode him the rest
Speaker 1: of the day, off and on, and every time was
Speaker 1: like he had seen the light, and that bucking was
Speaker 1: an undesirable quality and one that I appreciate. He not continue.
Speaker 1: He was a changed horse, or was he? I was
Speaker 1: feeling confident in my horse trading the bilding, so having
Speaker 1: just fixed him, I thought I might stretch him out
Speaker 1: on the pasture and see how fast we could make
Speaker 1: the loop around the fence. I gave him some slack
Speaker 1: in the reins, nudged him with my heels, and that's
Speaker 1: all it took. He came out of that lot like
Speaker 1: a bottle rocket, hugging the edge of the pasture like
Speaker 1: we were in the Kentucky Derby. Down one stretch of
Speaker 1: the fence line some low hanging limbs stuck out in
Speaker 1: the pasture. I light rained him to the inside to
Speaker 1: go around him, and he slowly moved over like a
Speaker 1: seasoned vet right up to the point of contact, and
Speaker 1: all at once he dodged right under them and wrecked
Speaker 1: me out of that saddle before I could even think
Speaker 1: about what was happening. We didn't keep him. He had
Speaker 1: to go before he killed me. But I figured out
Speaker 1: his name. It finally dawned on me that they must
Speaker 1: have named that horse as he was leaving that ranch
Speaker 1: and headed to the horse sail because Brin's reward was
Speaker 1: living long enough to see him in a horse trailer
Speaker 1: headed back to the sailbarn. And that's just how that happened.
Speaker 1: What's in a name? Naming animals? How do we come
Speaker 1: up with them? Now? I don't mean like scientific names.
Speaker 1: I know how that's done. And if you don't prepare
Speaker 1: to be bored for the next twenty seconds of your
Speaker 1: life that you will never get back while I explain it,
Speaker 1: But here it is. Scientists use a two name system
Speaker 1: called a binomial naming system. Scientists name animals and plants
Speaker 1: using the system that describes the genus and species of
Speaker 1: the organism. The first word is the genus and the
Speaker 1: second is the species. The first word is capitalized and
Speaker 1: the second is not. For the love of humanity almost
Speaker 1: jumps out the wind of reading that. I promise not
Speaker 1: to try to make you think anymore today. What I'm
Speaker 1: talking about are the names we give dogs, horses and
Speaker 1: the like. And where did the historical names that we've
Speaker 1: heard of come from? Remember that movie about Seabiscuit, the
Speaker 1: fastest thing on horseshoes back in nineteen thirty eight, beating
Speaker 1: a horse called war Admiral, who up to that point
Speaker 1: had won't everything but the World Series and the Super Bowl.
Speaker 1: And his name was war Admiral. I name you'd associate
Speaker 1: with power and greatness. But Sea Biscuit. How did they
Speaker 1: settle on that? Sea Biscuit's dad was named hard Attack.
Speaker 1: That's a type of cracker from back in the day.
Speaker 1: His grandpa was named Man of War. Now, how did
Speaker 1: that happen? How did that lineage go from intimidating toughness
Speaker 1: to food you can eat with one hand and goes
Speaker 1: in soup? I wish I could tell you, but see
Speaker 1: in the movie, I was always distracted by that silly name.
Speaker 1: I'll give them their dues, though, because here it is
Speaker 1: nearly one hundred years later and we're still talking about
Speaker 1: that horse and his funny name. So what's in a name?
Speaker 1: I've had dog's name gold Mine, Luke, Tom, Peanut, Sambo, Anna, Whaler,
Speaker 1: Tip Ranger, just to name a few. Some of them
Speaker 1: you've heard me mention on here in other places. But
Speaker 1: the name, what's in a name? The first famous movie
Speaker 1: dog was Rin ten ten. He was a rescued German
Speaker 1: shepherd from the battlefield of World War One in France,
Speaker 1: came back to the US starred in silent movies. Now,
Speaker 1: that name is highly original and one that I haven't
Speaker 1: heard of outside of that particular dog. But you can't
Speaker 1: mention famous dogs of TV and film without Lassie. The
Speaker 1: name Lassie alone is a descriptor from Scotland that literally
Speaker 1: means girl. Lassie was a rough Collie breed of dog,
Speaker 1: and she had nearly a dozen feature length films and
Speaker 1: a TV series that ran from nineteen fifty four to
Speaker 1: nineteen seventy three. She saved the day more than once
Speaker 1: by being able to communicate the misadventures of Little Timmy,
Speaker 1: who led a color lamity field life not unlike my own.
Speaker 1: He was either falling in the old well or getting
Speaker 1: stuck in a mind cave in, or caught up in
Speaker 1: some situation that required a dog to use everything from
Speaker 1: an illumined welder to quantum physics to save that little
Speaker 1: idiot whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to
Speaker 1: worry his mama slapped to death. Pretty good for an
Speaker 1: old gal, except she wasn't a girl. In every TV
Speaker 1: showing movie, Lastie was played by male Collie every time
Speaker 1: makes sense, of course, not why would it, But it
Speaker 1: just goes back to wondering if names are really that important.
Speaker 1: I and both of my brothers go by our middle names,
Speaker 1: not our first names, like the federal government and your
Speaker 1: health insurance intended. No, that would have been too easy.
Speaker 1: My mother decided to throw that little extra challenge into
Speaker 1: the mix, so you wouldn't hear my mama hollering Wilton, Richard, Tracy.
Speaker 1: When it was time to eat, it was Tim, Chuck,
Speaker 1: and Brent. I don't ask me why. For the reason
Speaker 1: behind that has been lost to time. I will say this,
Speaker 1: when others found out my first name was Tracy, the
Speaker 1: boxing lessons that closely followed served me well in my
Speaker 1: law enforcement career years later. I bet no one tried
Speaker 1: that with Lassie anyway. The names we use, at least
Speaker 1: in my case, always have some roots and a feeling
Speaker 1: or an observation for about that particular animal. Buck the horse,
Speaker 1: not the mountain cur Pretty simple. Buck is short for buckskin,
Speaker 1: the color of the horse, and buck the mountain cur
Speaker 1: not the horse, was buckskin color too, So Dad named
Speaker 1: him Buck. I know, very original, right, Whaling my coon
Speaker 1: now was named when I got him, and that name,
Speaker 1: among a few other little factors, was the reason I
Speaker 1: brought him home. So there is a traction and familiarity
Speaker 1: with names, something that connects and helps us identify that
Speaker 1: individual or family. Now, when I was guiding for a living,
Speaker 1: it was November and I was standing in knee deep
Speaker 1: water in flooded green timber. I was leaning against a tree,
Speaker 1: and I was trying to decide on a name from
Speaker 1: my son, who would be born the next March. What
Speaker 1: should I name him? What would a duck guide name
Speaker 1: his son? What would a duck hunter name his baby boy?
Speaker 1: Drake Drake Hunter? That's it. I was so proud of myself.
Speaker 1: It was perfect. I had one of the best mornings
Speaker 1: I'd ever had in the timber, calling in ducks by
Speaker 1: the droves, and my whole party limiting out on green
Speaker 1: heads before the sun had gotten above the trees. It
Speaker 1: was a perfect day. Six limits of Drake Mallard's and
Speaker 1: I had, without much effort, chosen the perfect name for
Speaker 1: a duck guide's son. We called him by his meddle name,
Speaker 1: always have no need to let him coast through life
Speaker 1: without a few challenges. Well, I know I'm going all
Speaker 1: over the place with this name and thing. But how people, animals,
Speaker 1: and places get names has always intrigued me. But maybe
Speaker 1: for the wrong reasons. It's really not the name, but
Speaker 1: what that entity does that exemplifies what people think of
Speaker 1: and associate with that name. A name doesn't make a person.
Speaker 1: The person makes a name. Benedict Arnold George Washington two
Speaker 1: names from the same time period that evoke contrasting emotions.
Speaker 1: Want a traitor, the other a hero. Names don't matter,
Speaker 1: it's what you do with it that does. And that's
Speaker 1: your challenge this week. Make a name for yourself and
Speaker 1: your family a good one, because good or bad folks
Speaker 1: might still be talking about you one hundred years from now.
Speaker 1: Thank y'all for listening, and until next week. This is
Speaker 1: Brent Reeves signing off. Y'all be careful