My Dad bought him from an old man when I was six or seven. Jughead was his name before we bought him,
but there was no denying it fit the stubborn Shetland pony that seemed to get
joy out of resisting the will of his small riders. The trait that enabled him to do this was his lack of feeling in his mouth. No matter how severe a bit my dad put in his
mouth and no matter how I jerked on his head in the direction I wanted to go,
he simply tucked his head and went wherever his incorrigible little pony heart
desired.
I remember vividly the first time Jughead really ran off with me. Dad and I were riding into a
lake to camp and fish with some friends.
It was dark for most of the ride, as we had gotten a late start. We were within a couple miles of the camp
when Jughead decided he’d had enough and started to run back down the
trail. It took Dad a couple minutes to
catch up and stop him. I was in
tears and a little terrified because I had literally zero control as we ran down the mountain. I think Dad led Jughead the rest of the way to the
camp. That night, Jughead and my Dad’s
horse escaped from the rope corral and ran back to the trailer where we found
them the next day, happily waiting for us.
I think I had ridden him a year, or maybe two, when Justin
started riding him instead. Justin, my
childhood best friend, whom I've known since I was two, had a will that seemed
to match Jughead better. And it was this
duo that made Jughead a legend. Justin
was a risk taker and adventurous by nature and Jughead certainly supplied ample reckless adventure.
On another occasion, Justin and I decided to race to a gate
that we had dubbed “Dead Coyote Gate”
(because a coyote had been shot and died near the gate….why else would
you name it that?!). I am not sure why we thought it was a fair race at all, since I had a full size horse (Jody) and Jughead was a foot and a half shorter but nevertheless we were off to the races. The race was across an alfalfa field. The field had a pivot (moving sprinkler system) and that pivot had created several narrow tracks with the wheels that moved it across the field. The tracks were about a foot wide and four inches deep. As we approached the pivot track both of our mounts saw it simultaneously, put it in park and launched Justin and I forward. I landed on Jody's neck and Justin face-planted in the alfalfa on the other side of the track because Jughead's neck was so short. Neither of us was hurt but it was a lesson we never forgot.
But the story that really solidified Jughead as the most notorious kids pony ever, was the time he went off a buffalo jump. My Dad and one of the other ranch hands, Bart, were riding through the yearlings one day and Justin was along for the ride on Jughead. They had all split up to look for sick yearlings and my Dad and Bart got back together first. Suddenly Justin came charging up on Jughead. Both of them were covered in dirt on the right side and Jughead looked somewhat subdued, only resisting a little as Justin reined him toward my Dad. "What happened to you?" Bart asked, a little concerned but hoping for a good story.
"Jughead and I went off the buffalo jump back there!" Justin exclaimed as he pointed back toward a gravel pit half a mile away.
