First Ride

Dottie Waits Patiently

You might conclude that all we do around here is ride horses, hike, and camp. Well you are mostly right, but winter usually puts a cramp in our outdoor activities. Even with Dangerous' trips to St. George, this year has been an unusually long winter. Until this week, Dottie hadn't been saddled since back in November. After seven long months, we spent four short days in Grover trying to squeeze in a few hours of riding between howling wind storms.

Pick a Sandy Landing Spot

All those months of inactivity cause some real anxiety for both the horse and rider. Dottie is frequently full of herself after eating green grass and grain, and Dangerous is a bit fearful to put his foot in the stirrup the first time. We go through this little ritual every year, and most of the time it turns out all right. Dangerous stays in the saddle, and Dottie decides it is time to earn her keep. With me, I just enjoy watching the awkward ballet between an aging old man and his unpredictable young mare. Dangerous usually has the good sense to pick a nice, soft landing spot just in case the dance doesn't end well for him.

Watch Out for Those Big Rocks

The Boulder Mountains are aptly named for the huge and plentiful igneous rocks scattered everywhere. I have learned from Dangerous' past experiences that choosing a spot for that first ride is critical to the length of the riding season. Even though we usually start at low desert elevations those big black rocks are scattered everywhere. Riding a hyper-vigilant mare sometimes leads to some very hard landings, and even I know you don't want to land face down or any other way in a pile of Boulder Mountain lava rocks. They will take more than the wind out of you.

The Elk Know When It's Spring

Dangerous is notorious for pressing the season. Even with the wind howling and temperatures dropping, he had to find out firsthand what the high country looked like. So, we abandoned the desert winds sand blasting our faces and tried to ride a high country trail. Two miles from the truck we hit snow. For once in his life, Dangerous exercised good judgment and we turned back. Dottie was willing to cross the swollen creeks and wet bogs, but the chest deep snow drifts were a different matter. I rather enjoyed rolling and frolicking in them, but Dottie wasn't the least bit interested in trying to push her way through. Even the elk had the good sense to find a sunny, south facing slope to munch some green grass away from the snow. I suspect that we will know the High Plateau is open for business when the shaggy hair on the elk disappears and we see new born calves following their mothers.

This is Why We Do It

It won't be long and we will be standing stirrup deep in green grass and wildflowers. I guess the reason we go through our first ride ritual every spring is to see and enjoy places like this. In a few more weeks, the aspens will be leafed out and all the snow banks will have melted. For a few short months, we will be back pounding the trails at 10,000 feet hoping for a long Indian summer and a short winter. Love to hear from you!

A Rose of a Different Color

A Rose of A Different Color

It's bad enough that I got left home again, but to find out that Dangerous was in St. George visiting another Rose can make a girl a bit jealous. Dangerous has always been a sucker for a good looking red head, but I doubt I have anything to worry about. While we might share the same name and similar hair color, I can't picture St. George Rose playing tug with Dangerous or sitting on his lap.

Let's Play Tug

What I can't figure out is how Dangerous is going to keep us straight. At his age, he struggles remembering the names of family members and close friends. I can only imagine the confusion that will exist when we are out riding. When it's time for us to load up, I won't be sure which Rose he is calling. Will St. George Rose try climbing into my dog kennel while I jump into the horse trailer with Dottie and Little Guy? More confusing than loading to go will be the profane oaths that Dangerous usually directs at me when he is mounting up. In the past, he usually yelled something like, "Rose, I am going to get down and kick you in the guts if you don't shut up!" With another Rose around, I have the perfect excuse to continue barking and ignore his idle threats. I will just give him that sheep dog look expressing confusion about whether he is berating me or the other Rose.

St. George Rose and Dangerous

You're probably wondering how Dangerous ended up with another Walking Horse. Well, you have to understand that he doesn't own the whole horse. I am not sure how you own half a horse, but knowing Dangerous, I know which half is his. He tells me that he owns the horse jointly with his buddy Bill, and they divided Rose diagonally. Splitting her diagonally gives them each a half that can't be ridden alone, but can stand by its self. At least that's what Bill told Dangerous when they split the horse, and he is an architect.

Bill and Thunder

Rose lives with Bill with seven other Walking Horses in St. George. Her current owners are friends of Bill's who have boarded Rose at his place for years. Since they don't get to ride much, they decided it was time to sell her. Well, Dangerous is almost as bad as Bill when it comes to parting with a good horse. Neither one of them needs another horse, but they couldn't let Rose go to another home, so they bought her together. Rose gets to stay in St. George, and Dangerous has a horse to ride when he visits.

A Walking Horse in Every Port

Dangerous tells me that St. George Rose has a sweet Walking Horse gate, and independent personality. According to Dangerous, riding her is like sitting in a rocking chair, and she doesn't need the company of others, so I don't have to worry about her replacing me anytime soon. Love to hear from you!

65 Degrees and Rising

Amateur Archaeologist

Take a look outside today and you will see snowflakes in the air. Walk out to feed the horses, and the north wind will burn your face. After months of these conditions, Dangerous and I were irritable and short tempered. To treat our extreme cabin fever, we had to find a warm place to hike and explore. As usual, Dangerous and I jumped in the truck and drove 300 miles south to spend five days hiking, eating, and talking with friends in Bluff. It's incredible what sunshine and 65 degree temperatures will do to cure cabin fever.

Bluff Accommodations

We don't exactly rough it when staying in Bluff. Rather than crowding into two or three small motel rooms, this year we rented the "West Unit" where everyone had their own room. Well, almost everyone. Dangerous doesn't trust me alone, so I had to bunk with him. I freely roamed the entire place, but spent most of my time lying under the kitchen table. When on these trips, the boys don't waste time in the living room watching TV. When not hiking, they sit around the kitchen table stuffing their faces and planning our next hike. I'm not much interested in the hike talk, but I do enjoy all the treats offered me under the table during these strategic planning sessions.

Transcendental Sites

The boys who joined us in Bluff this year were a different bunch than past springs. For Bill, Rich, and John, they were visiting the various Butler Wash ruins for the first time. Dangerous and I have seen them all many times before, but it was interesting to see them again through different eyes. I patiently waited and listened as they carefully observed and discussed each rock art panel and ruin.

Rich, Rosie, John, and Bill at the Procession Panel

They spent a great deal of time speculating about the meaning of the Procession Panel. As you can see, the panel is named for the three long lines of figures marching towards a circle. The explanations ranged from the ancient ones marching back to the underworld from where they originally emerged to a trip to the Golden Arches for cheeseburgers. While the first explanation is more mythical, I prefer the more practical idea of obtaining food. As you may have guessed, it was close to lunch when Dangerous snapped this picture, and I was hungry.

Roof Beam Still in Place

As always, examining an ancient kiva causes the most speculation and discussion. Trying to imagine what went on in its depths 750 years ago produces lively and interesting discussion. For all of us, we tried to imagine the spiritual and mystical forces that caused these ancient people to collect and move the materials needed to build this religious structure. With stone tools and fire, they cut the large roof beams that covered their underground temple. After dropping the logs, probably miles away, they had to transport them to the site without the aid of draft animals. While rocks are plentiful in the area, they still had to collect them and painstakingly lay them in place without a modern transit or other leveling device. I heard Dangerous ask Bill the architect whether he thought today's buildings will still be standing 800 years from now.

The Ancient Ones Return

Dangerous tells everyone that if conditions are just right you can clearly imagine what life was really like for the ancient ones who populated the Comb Ridge canyons. He tells me that with a little imagination you can recreate the swirl of daily living at these prehistoric sites. Listen carefully and you can hear the children playing, the turkeys gobbling, and the dogs barking. With a little more imagination, you can smell the corn meal and mountain sheep stew boiling in a clay pot over the open fire. I always thought Dangerous had an over active imagination, but this time I have to agree with him. If you look closely, you can see two ancient residents of Comb Ridge peering back through time at you. Love to hear from you!

Spring Equinox

Dangerous and Rosie

As you can see, spring is a bit late in coming to the High Plateau. We had dreams of spending at least one night in Grover last week, but it will take another three weeks of sunshine before I can walk down the driveway. Dangerous did climb the gate with his show shoes on and got to the cabin, but the snow was too deep for this sheep dog. When he got to the porch, he had to step down from the snow drift to reach the front door. I waited in the truck with Utah Jack.

Snowed In

The Spring Equinox is a high religious holiday around our place because it brings the promise of warm weather. Ol' Dangerous has dusted off his hiking boots, brushed the horses, filled the propane tanks on the sheep camp, put wood shavings in the horse trailer, and oiled his saddle; but I think he is kidding himself. The season will start late this year. He tells me that in the 24 seasons riding the High Plateau this is only the second time snow has stopped him from spending the night in Grover. You can imagine Utah Jack's mood after riding 200 miles to see snow blocking the driveway. What does he have to complain about? He got to sit up front while I spent over six hours riding in the back of the truck.

Civic Beautification Award Avoided Again

There are some hopeful signs that spring isn't too far off. Dangerous can't use cold weather any longer to delay cleaning up the place. Trea won't listen to that excuse, and will have him out there cleaning up the backyard soon. With the snow receding rapidly, he has been outside policing up four months of "dog bombs" that Max and I dropped this past winter. Before he can even think about using the lawnmower he recently had serviced, he has to shovel off the lawns and pick up all the junk that has blown into the yard. If things go as usual, he will hit the yard work a hard lick until May and then start disappearing regularly. As you can tell from the picture, a spiffy yard and fancy house aren't high priorities.

The Coop

Utah Jack likes to make fun of Dangerous' yard care standards, but a guy who lives in a coop shouldn't cast stones. He might sweep the porch more frequently than Dangerous, but Dangerous does have indoor plumbing and a phone that works. Utah does have more cable TV channels which he needs to get through winter.

Yard Boy Wanted

I sometimes think Dangerous picks his friends based on their lack of interest in uptown living. As you can see, Bronze-Age-Man, one of Dangerous' good friends, reflects this attitude nicely. It might not look like much, but you can find about anything you need around Mike's place. If he doesn't have it, you don't need it! After living five long winter months in a drafty trailer, Mike will be the first to let us know when spring actually arrives on the High Plateau.

Spring Nymph

I always know when spring has actually arrived. For some of you, the Easter Bunny announces it, but not for us. When the spring nymph shows up in our backyard, I know it is time to head to Grover and really start the riding and hiking season.

I am interested in knowing how all of you wintered out. Drop me a comment or two about how you got through this long winter, and what you plan to do this summer. Love to hear from you!

By the way, I thought I should bring you up-to-date on two things. First, I am sorry that I haven't been writing as often as usual. With the cold weather, I haven't had many adventures to share, but with the start of warm weather, you should hear from me more often. Second I thought you should know that we found Frankie Lane dead in the backyard this morning. I want you to know that I had nothing to do with his death. Even I feel the loss!

Frankie: Last Symbol of Freedom

A Comfortable Life

I readily admit I have a pretty comfortable life, but don't mistake me for a pet. The animals around here don't think of themselves as pets or the more politically correct term "animal companions." All the horses, dogs, and cats understand that without Dangerous and Trea life would be difficult. None of us worry about where our next meal will come from. The horses punctually wait at the fence morning and night knowing they will be fed. Max and I eat our fill from a full dog dish, and Trea's cats help themselves to whatever they want when they are hungry. While we know who feeds us, Dangerous and his wife value each of our unique personalities and treat us as individuals.

Their attitude towards animals is probably more easily understood in the relationship we all have with Frankie Lane. Frankie is the rooster pheasant who lives in our backyard. You may have already guessed the origin of his unique name. Frankie Lane was the 60s western ballad singer of notable tunes like Bullet in My Shoulder, Raw Hide, Bowie Knife, Mule Train, and other western tunes. In fact, Bullett in My Shoulder is the only song Dangerous knows by heart. You ought to get him to sing it for you sometime or maybe not.

Frankie Patrols the Fence Line

Like Frankie Lane the signer, Frankie the pheasant is the last of his kind. Without our small island of open space in a sea of urban blight he wouldn't have a place to live. Today, his island sanctuary is surrounded on three sides by large single family houses and expensive twin homes. Frankie, as if he had another option, has chosen our place to make his last stand, and like the other critters living on our unique farm in the middle of all the suburban sprawl, Frankie works hard to maintain his dignity and independence as the lone surviving wild rooster pheasant around.

Spring Plumage

Today, Frankie is a mere shell of himself. He lives under the sheep camp, coming out to pick through the horse manure for grain. He sulks along the fence lines hoping I won't catch sight of him. When I do, I can't help myself, and send him back over the fence with a quick charge and bark. While Frankie isn't too impressive during the winter months, you ought to see him in the spring.

We know spring is really here when Frankie starts preening, strutting, and crowing. In full plumage, he announces to his nonexistent rivals that he is ready to do battle. While trying to attract the hens that never come, he is ready to take on any rival who might invade his territory. Even in his loneliness, Frankie maintains his dignity by acting like the rooster pheasant he is.

I suspect that Frankie doesn't have much time left as civilization encroaches more and more on his isolated island. I think Dangerous tries to protect him because he sees a bit of himself in Frankie. Like Frankie, Dangerous and his buddies are anachronisms in their own time. The life they value has passed, but like Frankie the pheasant, they won't give up easily. Dangerous is already planning our first wilderness adventure, and when he gets back he will probably replant the pasture again to give the horses a bit more grass and Frankie a place to hangout one last summer. Love to hear from you!

Crash!

Little Mill Cross Country Ski Trail

Even for an engaging sheep dog like myself winters are long. I get a break every day around 3:00 PM when Jerry the mailman shows up. He drives slowly by the fence so I can run along barking at him. He usually stops, leans out his jeep, and pets me. Later, the kids from the elementary school walk by. They run along the fence with me in hot pursuit on the other side. On a really good day, the UPS driver stops to drop off a package. Unlike Jerry, the UPS driver doesn't think I am friendly or cute. He usually throws the package over the fence and speeds off. In my opinion, these are relatively safe ways to kill time during the winter.

Dangerous, as his name implies, is not so easily entertained. When he isn't downstairs planning a spring, summer, or fall riding or hiking event, he is dreaming up some risky, crazy thing to do or try. This winter, at age 63, he decided to learn to cross country ski. As you can see, American Fork Canyon is beautiful this time of year. However, rather than snow shoeing like past winters, Dangerous let his Rec Center buddies convince him to try skiing.

Carl and Don Teaching Dangerous to Ski

Well, you would think that Dangerous could keep up with two 77 year old men. Even though he is 14 years younger than both of them, Dangerous forgot they are experienced skiers, and retired coaches with above average athletic ability. Carl coached basketball at the high school and college level, and Don's high school football teams won a number of state championships.

Undeterred, Dangerous bought skis, boots, and poles thinking he would give it a try. Using their best coaching skills, Carl and Don patiently tried to teach Dangerous to ski. They showed him how to snow plow down steep hills. They taught him how to fall to avoid serious injury, and after considerable coaching effort on their part, they thought he was getting the hang of it. Dangerous even sneaked in a few trips on his own to practice his newly learned techniques. With growing confidence, he skied effortlessly uphill. He gracefully glided across snow covered meadows, and with a few falls, made it down most hills.

Dangerous Before His Accident

Carl thought Dangerous was ready for the big time. Last week, he took Dangerous to a local ski resort with miles of groomed cross country trails. Everything started out great. They skied up hill and across flat, snow covered meadows without incident. Dangerous even made it to the bottom of a number of hills without falling. However, when he limped back into the yard last Thursday afternoon, he wasn't smiling. All he would tell me was that he fell "ass over tea kettle" coming down a hill. To add to his humiliation, he walked back to his truck carrying his skis and nursing a wrenched knee and sprained ankle.

Well, if you know Dangerous, he isn't done with skiing. By next week, he will be back on the "bunny hill" trying to perfect the snow plow to avoid another serious CRASH! I really wish he would give up skiing and start snow shoeing again. All he had to fear when snow shoeing was being buried in an avalanche or having a heart attack, and best of all I always got to go with him. Love to hear from you!

Nellie: A Tribute to a Good Friend

Last night we lost an old friend. Nellie was born 28 years ago on a cold, rainy April night. Dangerous knew her mother Molly was about to deliver, so he moved her to a stall at the large animal hospital. Every few hours, Dangerous drove to the clinic to check Molly's progress. For those of you who know horses, you understand how difficult it is to witness an actual birth. According to Dangerous, mares don't like company when delivering their foals, and will try to time the birth when no one is around. After a long sleepless night, Dangerous found a new palomino filly standing on wobbly legs next to her mom early that stormy April morning.

Newborn Nellie and Molly

Dangerous tells me that Nellie was the prettiest horse he ever owned. Even in death, the vet who came last night commented about what good shape she was in at 28, and how pretty she was. I didn't know Nellie until she was probably 22, but even then most everyone who met us on the trail would ask Dangerous about the tall, pretty horse he was riding. Besides being beautiful, Nellie could really travel.

Nellie was a tough old girl who survived a variety of illnesses and injuries during her long life. She suffered from chronic laminitis that affected her most every spring. Nellie was a bit of a pig when it came to tender, green grass, and once she was turned out to graze, she never seemed to get her fill. Her all too noticeable founder crest was a physical testament to her hearty appetite.

Nellie Enjoying the Spring Grass

Well, last night Nellie's luck finally ran out. She couldn't get up after lying down for a nap. Dangerous found her struggling to get to her feet, and knew it was time to call the vet. With the vet's help, she peacefully passed away in the pasture where she spent most of her life. We miss you old girl!