that darn horsePosted: August 11, 2012
Blackjack was spooky. Sure, he might have a big roman head, and mule like ears, but he was athletic and energetic. Big and strong he could eat up the miles, just pull his head in gently with the reins, squeeze him with your legs and he would foxtrot forever. Small obstacles or streams in the way, Blackjack could sprout wings and fly over them.
Did I mention he was spooky? Not mean or scary, I think he just thought it was fun to be terrified by a little grey squirrel or a pheasant flushed from the grass nearby. He might stop dead, feet splayed while he gazed in terror at a new branch he just noticed. Or, in the blink of an eye he might whirl 90 degrees, leaving you amazed at his strength but annoyed. Then it’s just turn him around, give him a kick to get him moving pat his neck and say “You knucklehead!”
Puffing hard from the run up to Bob Hall pasture I pulled him in to catch his breath. Above us the clear blue Wyoming sky, ahead Black Tooth peak glistened a giant cavity in its glacier shawl. To our right, a young mule deer buck, rack ensconsed in velvet looks quizically at us, wondering
what this two headed monster can be.
“Watch that buck boy”, I pat his neck my gaze now on the splendor that surrounds us. I hear Megan riding Chief coming up behind us. Out of the corner of my eye I see the buck jump. Without warning, Blackjack vaults six feet to the left. I am stil on, barely, my right stirrup swinging free when he looks back as if to say “You’re stil here?”, hops one foot more to the left sending me tumbling gently down…