Email this article

Riding Annie Oakley

By Karin L. Becker

Found in: | Outside | Horseback Riding |

Annie was sensitive. She was the last to arrive, the last on the pecking order, and had worked hard to make her way up. There was no way she was going to let Boo crowd her way in. Tense ears, a planned back step, her hind legs ready to rear and she almost succeeded in kicking Maliboo in the face. I was in for a long ride on a feisty horse named after the renowned Annie Oakley.

Riding in Cemetery Wash, outside of Aztec, N.M., the day could not have been more beautiful. Wide expanse of cloud-less turquoise sky - resembling more of a September day than the cloudy, moist filled days of winter - only hawks soared the sky, grouse and rabbits sticking to the scrubby cover of chemissa. Heading west along the sandy wash, Annie followed a short distance behind Maliboo. Her foxtrot tendency bouncing me around in the saddle, it wasn't until the return trip that I learned to loosen my back and sink into the stride. But venturing further into the wash, the sandstone formations encroaching, pinion trees all but washed away, roots exposed, perched precariously on the banks, under the full sun the horses quickly worked up a sweat.

I traveled backward in time to when the land still belonged to the Utes; I imagined Annie Oakley, nicknamed Little Sure Shot by Chief Sitting Bull because of her excellent marksman ability, traveling out west to showcase her talent in Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show. Whether she was shooting with a pistol, rifle, or shotgun, Annie was a dead shot. At the age of 12 she shot the head off of a running quail and later, a cigarette dangling from her husband's mouth. I knew these skittish rabbits scurrying across the wash would be no problem for her.

Suddenly, Annie led me into the banks where we plowed through sage and scrub brush, a tense scuttle of prances and dances, bucks and breaks. I tried to regain control of her, constantly commanding "Easy" and bringing in the reins but she had a mind of her own and I had little experience with horses. The horse, like the woman, obviously showed me who was in charge.

When I later joined my riding buddy Bob back in the wash, tense and tired, Bob asked me, "Do you want to trade horses?" I shook my head no. "We've got a few more things to work out," I said as we took the lead, slowly. "I'm not sure who is training who," Bob said. "Now remember, Annie never gets spooked. So if she's acting up, it's because she can. But I like a horse with a spirit." Bob said.

"You mean you like the challenge?" I clarified.

"I like the liveliness, to have to train and respond to her. I don't want to just plod along. Annie's got a lot of character and courage and that is what makes riding her so enjoyable."

His response resonated within me. All of my previous experience riding had been on group trail rides where predictability and caution were the standard outcomes. Having to adapt to the horse's spirit, to be in a constant flux of reacting and responding to the environment, I was reminded of the unconventional and progressive spirit for which my horse was named after.

It was Annie Oakley, a young girl who should have been learning how to sew and embroider, but instead supported her six siblings and mother with meat from the animals she shot. It was Annie, a commanding and sought-after woman making her mark in a man's profession, who supported the orphanage she lived in after her mother remarried. By giving up her medals she won for sharp shooting, the very ones that used to adorn her chest, she was able to give money back to the orphanage.

Annie's sharp shooting reputation gained her an invitation to participate in a shooting contest against Frank E. Butler, a well-known marksman. Butler claimed he could outshoot "anything then living" and laughed when he learned his competitor was a woman. Annie shot a perfect round, making 25 shoots in as many attempts. Butler missed one. Although he missed his target, he didn't miss out on the opportunity to get to know Annie. The two married in 1876.

May 1 commemorates the day the married couple first appeared in a show together, in 1882. Even though Annie joined the show by default, because Butler's usual partner was sick, it was at this time that Annie rebelled against society by not taking her husband's name. Privately she was known as Mrs. Frank Butler but on stage she was her own person - she kept her maiden name and was announced as Annie Oakley.

Soon after, Annie received more recognition and attention than her husband and she became the star. Annie continued to go against the grain when she reversed roles with her husband, first serving as his assistant and then he stepping out of the limelight to give her central billing as he realized she had more talent. He then served as her assistant and personal manager.

Riding Annie Oakley, I was keenly aware of the legacy she left. After she was injured in a train accident in 1901, her touring waned but her skill did not. She continued to shoot in charity events to benefit orphans, widows and underprivileged women. She campaigned for women's rights to hold paid employment, earn equal pay, participate in sports, and defend herself in her own home and on city streets. It is the spirit of personal independence that Annie Oakley symbolizes.

And now, over 100 years later, I am grateful for the legacy that Annie left behind. As a young woman still fighting for equal pay and equal participation in sports, there is much I can learn from Little Miss Sure Shot. Although much needs to be done to actualize Annie's cause, there is a prevailing attitude of independence. She embodies the western women ideal: strong, self-sufficient and feisty. I am thankful for the path she carved so that today, when I go camping, skiing, hiking or do other traditional men's sports, by myself, I am not regarded as an outcast or a threat, but treated with respect.

On the return trip, with my groin killing me, my lower back pained and the sun behind the mesa, the shaded air felt cold. My thoughts focused on home and a hot bath. Just when I thought the ride was over, the trailhead almost in sight, Annie abruptly stopped, legs buckling then rearing back in a quick jolt. The horse that doesn't get spooked got spooked by a large eroded rock. I let out a scream. With determination and strength, I hung on.

I was glad to be riding a horse with spirit, a horse alive and well. I was glad Annie Oakley is still challenging expectations.

When Karin L. Becker is not hanging on to horse reigns, she can be found trotting around Durango or teaching Composition at Fort Lewis College.