Bitten, But Not Burned

The title reveals the truth. I did get scared by a bush, a raven, and a turkey vulture. All while working at Magic Mountain. The raven was Frank. The turkey vulture was Cinderella and she was very mean. You don't need a leather glove to handle a turkey vulture since they don't have talons, but you wear one anyway because they are gross and poop and vomit a lot. However, she reached right above the glove and bit me! The great horned owl and the red tailed hawk never bit me. Good thing too, because that would be dangerous. I also managed to avoid getting bit by the macaws, but not because they didn't try...

This macaw had issues and would have eaten my fingers as an appetizer if I let him.

My chicken never tried to eat me. And I never tried to eat her. Although Dad did eat one of her eggs. He reports it tasted funny.

The serval was nice and never bit me, although she would stalk you while you cleaned her enclosure if you turned your back to her.

The coati was very nice and didn't bite, although he would groom you by nibbling on your arm. How young was I?!

My nemesis. Besides biting when handling her, she would also chase you down while you were cleaning and you would try to fend her off with the rake but she would jump on it and start climbing up it towards you. I wonder if you can get worker's comp for being mauled by an animal with no teeth?

A nice bird but don't mess with her food. (Red Tailed hawk.)

Another bird who never bit me. The great horned owl was my favorite to handle. He was somewhat difficult to catch and put the leash and jesses on.

We didn't have tigers at the farm. This was on a "field trip." I never would have imagined a tiger's fur is as soft as it really is.

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I did slip on the starch in the kitchen while ironing and my knee popped out and I shouted in pain as I fell to the floor and mom came running in and saw me laying there and said, "Oh phew. I thought you had gotten burned on the iron." I know better than to get burned on the iron while mom is around. "Be careful. The iron is on."


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I also did scratch my knuckle on the shed and it did leave a scar and I was worried I would get tetanus at tech school. Now (thanks to the Air Force) I have a tetanus shot so I don't have to worry every time I scratch, cut, or otherwise abrade myself on metal.

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On Friday the 13th a few years back I was riding my horse Ranger for the first time on trail. I decided to try a canter and all was going well, but I thought maybe he was going a little fast. Then I realized the trail (which was really a graded dirt road) was starting to slope down hill. I had a horrible vision of him running out of control down a hill so I wanted to stop him, but he ignored my pulling on the reigns. I decided to circle him, so I pulled hard on the left reign, which circled him into the side of the hill. Instead of completing the circle, he ran up the near vertical side of the hill. I wasn't sure if he would tip over backwards or manage to keep going until he reached the summit. The near vertical hill got even more vertical and he stopped his upward charge and came to a rest facing sideways. I wanted to disembark, but the side you usually get off on is the left side and that was the down hill side. If I got off, it would have been a huge drop to the ground and if he moved while I was doing it, he could have fallen on me. In our precarious position, I thought it wasn't a good time to try getting off on the other side.




As it was, as I was still thinking this, he decided to begin our decent. I thought, "This can't be good." He took two huge leaps down, then an even bigger leap and was back on the road. The last jump threw me up on his neck, and Ranger, always the gentleman, thought it would be nice to facilitate my getting off, since I was already mostly off. He started bucking. That was painful. I stayed on for maybe three bucks, then went flying off. As I was flying through the air, I thought, "Hold onto the reigns, hold onto the reigns..." I knew if I let go, he would take off running and the ranch owner had told me if the horse ever came back without me she would call the rescue helicopter, and that she had done it before. I wanted no part of that, so I held onto the reigns. Even the shock of hitting the ground did not cause me to let go.

He doesn't look very sinister, does he? Notice I am wearing gloves. I usually don't make the same mistake twice.

I ended up between Ranger and the way back to the ranch, on my back, but with my left hand holding the reigns. He looked at me and took off past me at a gallop. I still held the reigns. That horse hit the end of the reigns, his head whipped around back towards me and he flipped completely over. I still didn't let go, but the reigns were forcibly removed from my hand against my wishes do to the the inertia of his 1500 pound Quarter Horse body. He got up. I got up. He walked a few steps, but the fight was taken out of him and he stopped to eat a weed and I hobbled up, remounted and we continued our ride. I decided to continue the ride I had planned, but about half way through it I really wished I hadn't because my hand felt like it was on fire.





As the hand was healing, I was worried the scars might cause the fingers to be permanently bent, but obviously that didn't happen. I didn't keep Ranger very long. Boo always looked after me and Ranger was always looking to get rid of me. Plus, I had Bloom waiting for me at home, and I was taking five classes at college and working full time. Not really the time to have a horse, I suppose.

Boo was the best horse ever.

The lesson here is to beware of Friday the 13th.