Horse Smarts

The decomposing rancid odor of death suddenly punched our nostrils while heading up the overgrown logging road. If I screamed, no one would hear me while alone in the bottom of the desolate canyon. Somewhere concealed in the shadows, branches cracked, and a hasty spin had us headed back down in a controlled trot. I kept glancing back to ensure we didn't need to sprint.

"Boy do I have a deal for you," lisped Ol' Pete through sunken lips since he refused to wear dentures.

"You old horse trader!" I cracked back at him with a smile.

"I found her in town living in a backyard stall barely big enough for her to lay down and roll.  Four hundred dollars and she's yours--that's what I paid for her and I think she's what you're looking for as a brood mare. Plus, she's only seven," he added.

Out of the trailer came a pot-bellied Quarter horse sorrel mare. She was relatively short, but had good feet and legs. Nothing is so irritating than a horse who runs from you when a halter is in hand, but Amber stood as I approached and rubbed her soft muzzle. My hands gently brushed over her body and lifted each of her feet. Looking at her teeth, she had the wear consistent of a 7 year old. 

"Before I hand over the money, I want to try her out," I told Ol' Pete who agreed.

Soon thereafter, Amber was breathing hard while trotting on the rocky jeep trial up and around the canyon. Her trot was rough and she refused to walk. I blamed her refusal as a gesture of elation with her new found freedom from the backyard penitentiary. Frothy white lather accumulated under the bridle and saddle and finally, when we crested the summit, sheer exhaustion forced her to walk. It was short lived as my red heeler, Hugo, bolted past.

Amber then surprised me with her competitive spirit and I immediately discovered she was all heart.  Despite absolute exhaustion, she did not like Hugo in the lead and I chuckled as she, on her own, thundered ahead to reclaim the lead.

Months went by and one evening after a neighbor shot and killed Hugo (search Karma on this blog for details), Amber and I went out for a ride to simply clear my mind. While lost in the rhythm of her stride, we ambled up the old logging road paralleling the stream that meandered down in the bottom of the hidden canyon.

Amber stopped abruptly, snapping me back into reality.

With nostrils flared, her ribcage swelled and then she blew hard, startling me. Pin-pricked ears focused on the bend in the trail forty feet ahead of us. Out of no where, a tumbling bear cub came into view, having the time of his life goofing around. He looked like a furry, over sized bowling ball who noticed us and rolled off the edge of the road.

Choke cherry limbs drooped heavy with fruit. The thicket concealed the little bear and Amber's muscular body was tense, like a spring under tension ready to explode. A slight bump of my heels had her reluctantly move forward.

I wanted to see momma bear. Since we were suddenly smelling her pungent body odor from rolling on rotten carcasses and listening to breaking branches below us, she was close. Amber's intelligence trumped mine as she spun and we vacated the area.

Thanks, Amber, for being the more intelligent creature that day by making the better decision.  And thanks for the inquisitive and entertaining mule foals you delivered into this world!