Post by wildfire on Feb 4, 2005 15:56:04 GMT -5
Tupsy Battled Blizzard
Farm & Ranch Living Magazine, published a book "Tales of Teams. Heartwarming Memories of Hardworking Horses and Mules"
This story was very good, so I wanted to share it here on the Board.
Tupsy Battled Blizzard
By Virgil Axtman, Pewaukee, Wisconsin
I'll never forget one winter back in the 1930's and the gentle mare that saved my life. I was 7-years-old and enjoying a week off school for Christmas vacation. After doing the chores on our North Dakota farm, I was getting antsy sitting around the house. An idea came to mind.
"Pa, it's real nice out and the sun's shining," I said. "Could I take one of the horses to see uncle Marty and my cousins? Please?"
"NO! It's too cold out," my father answered. "Besides, you might get caught in a snow drift."
I nagged him all morning until finally he gave in.
"Have your brother bridle Tupsy, for you," he said. "That's the only horse I trust you with."
Tupsy was a huge Belgian mare. Not only was she strong, she was very intelligent. We didn’t use saddles on our horses because we were too poor. Even if we'd had the money, I doubt that they made saddles big enough to fit our work horses.
My brother boosted me up on Tupsy. It was like sitting on a divan. I could just barely straddle her wide back with my little legs. My father approached as I was about to leave.
"If anything happens, let the horse have her head and she'll see that you get home," he said "She's a real smart horse - horses are smarter than people think."
"Tupsy has gotten me home in a storm more than once. She'll be good to you, so no matter what happens, stay with the mare."
Tupsy and I headed across the fields through knee-deep snow. I tried to get her to go faster, but she had only one speed - slow! I resigned myself to siting back and enjoying the ride.
When I reached Uncle Marty's house I sure was glad to see my cousins. Time flew by quickly. We were playing in the snow when my uncle, quite the kidder, stepped out on the front porch and looked at the sky.
"Gonna have a blizzard before nightfall," he said.
I asked how he could tell by looking at the clouds or the color of the sky.
"Nope. I heard it on the battery radio a few minutes ago," He grinned.
He lifted me up onto Tupsy, and sent me on my way. "You'd better head home while you can," he said. "You don't want to get caught in a prairie blizzard."
As I rode off I sensed uneasiness in Tupsy. She was trotting now instead of walking. It didn't take a genius to tell Tupsy was nervous about something.
I hadn’t gone a mile when Tupsy raised her head and snorted. I looked and saw a white wall of snow coming toward us. I was never so scared in my life, and there was little I could do. I pulled my hat down as far as I could, wrapped my scarf around my face and braced myself.
The storm almost blew me off Tupsy when it hit us. I tightened my legs around her, clutched her mane and held on for dear life. In the back of my mind I could hear pa's voice: "Let her have her head." I draped the reins around Tupsy's neck.
Now it was snowing so hard I could hardly see Tupsy's head. Boy, was I scared! I couldn’t see where I was or where I was going. Strong winds blew snow against my face, stinging like needles.
The only thing that kept me from going to pieces was that huge mare under me. I knew Tupsy was strong and if anything could get me home, it was her!
Half crying, I kept talking to Tupsy. Encouraging the mare helped keep me from falling apart.
"Come on, Tupsy, you can do it! Come on, Tupsy. Take us home," I blurted over and over as she struggled through the storm.
My heart sank as Tupsy stopped suddenly and turned her head toward me. "Now, we're done for," I thought, wondering why the horse hadn't given out sooner.
But the problem was only that Tupsy needed the snow and ice wiped from her face so she could see. After that, whenever she stopped, I'd wipe her eyes with my scarf.
After what seemed like hours, Tupsy stopped again. This time she wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard I hollered. Then she did a curious thing. Tupsy kept moving forward and backward, as though attempting to dig a hole to lie in.
Then I heard a noise. Tupsy headed for her stall and fell on her side . . . and her spirit left her. Tupsy's big heart just wasn’t strong enough to keep that old body going after fighting our way back through the blizzard.
For me, everything went blank as I fell asleep. Early next morning I felt something nudge me and woke to see my father. I found myself snuggled up against Tupsy's body. Her fading warmth had kept me from freezing. Even in death, the mare's big body protected me.
I'm much older now and have told this story to my six children. Deep down, I'm sure the Almighty has a special place for faithful animals like Tupsy.
88888888888888888888888888888888888
Heartwarming.
Farm & Ranch Living Magazine, published a book "Tales of Teams. Heartwarming Memories of Hardworking Horses and Mules"
This story was very good, so I wanted to share it here on the Board.
Tupsy Battled Blizzard
By Virgil Axtman, Pewaukee, Wisconsin
I'll never forget one winter back in the 1930's and the gentle mare that saved my life. I was 7-years-old and enjoying a week off school for Christmas vacation. After doing the chores on our North Dakota farm, I was getting antsy sitting around the house. An idea came to mind.
"Pa, it's real nice out and the sun's shining," I said. "Could I take one of the horses to see uncle Marty and my cousins? Please?"
"NO! It's too cold out," my father answered. "Besides, you might get caught in a snow drift."
I nagged him all morning until finally he gave in.
"Have your brother bridle Tupsy, for you," he said. "That's the only horse I trust you with."
Tupsy was a huge Belgian mare. Not only was she strong, she was very intelligent. We didn’t use saddles on our horses because we were too poor. Even if we'd had the money, I doubt that they made saddles big enough to fit our work horses.
My brother boosted me up on Tupsy. It was like sitting on a divan. I could just barely straddle her wide back with my little legs. My father approached as I was about to leave.
"If anything happens, let the horse have her head and she'll see that you get home," he said "She's a real smart horse - horses are smarter than people think."
"Tupsy has gotten me home in a storm more than once. She'll be good to you, so no matter what happens, stay with the mare."
Tupsy and I headed across the fields through knee-deep snow. I tried to get her to go faster, but she had only one speed - slow! I resigned myself to siting back and enjoying the ride.
When I reached Uncle Marty's house I sure was glad to see my cousins. Time flew by quickly. We were playing in the snow when my uncle, quite the kidder, stepped out on the front porch and looked at the sky.
"Gonna have a blizzard before nightfall," he said.
I asked how he could tell by looking at the clouds or the color of the sky.
"Nope. I heard it on the battery radio a few minutes ago," He grinned.
He lifted me up onto Tupsy, and sent me on my way. "You'd better head home while you can," he said. "You don't want to get caught in a prairie blizzard."
As I rode off I sensed uneasiness in Tupsy. She was trotting now instead of walking. It didn't take a genius to tell Tupsy was nervous about something.
I hadn’t gone a mile when Tupsy raised her head and snorted. I looked and saw a white wall of snow coming toward us. I was never so scared in my life, and there was little I could do. I pulled my hat down as far as I could, wrapped my scarf around my face and braced myself.
The storm almost blew me off Tupsy when it hit us. I tightened my legs around her, clutched her mane and held on for dear life. In the back of my mind I could hear pa's voice: "Let her have her head." I draped the reins around Tupsy's neck.
Now it was snowing so hard I could hardly see Tupsy's head. Boy, was I scared! I couldn’t see where I was or where I was going. Strong winds blew snow against my face, stinging like needles.
The only thing that kept me from going to pieces was that huge mare under me. I knew Tupsy was strong and if anything could get me home, it was her!
Half crying, I kept talking to Tupsy. Encouraging the mare helped keep me from falling apart.
"Come on, Tupsy, you can do it! Come on, Tupsy. Take us home," I blurted over and over as she struggled through the storm.
My heart sank as Tupsy stopped suddenly and turned her head toward me. "Now, we're done for," I thought, wondering why the horse hadn't given out sooner.
But the problem was only that Tupsy needed the snow and ice wiped from her face so she could see. After that, whenever she stopped, I'd wipe her eyes with my scarf.
After what seemed like hours, Tupsy stopped again. This time she wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard I hollered. Then she did a curious thing. Tupsy kept moving forward and backward, as though attempting to dig a hole to lie in.
Then I heard a noise. Tupsy headed for her stall and fell on her side . . . and her spirit left her. Tupsy's big heart just wasn’t strong enough to keep that old body going after fighting our way back through the blizzard.
For me, everything went blank as I fell asleep. Early next morning I felt something nudge me and woke to see my father. I found myself snuggled up against Tupsy's body. Her fading warmth had kept me from freezing. Even in death, the mare's big body protected me.
I'm much older now and have told this story to my six children. Deep down, I'm sure the Almighty has a special place for faithful animals like Tupsy.
88888888888888888888888888888888888
Heartwarming.
