It was just one of those days. I drove up to the corral and she was gone. I investigated to see what had happen. These pens were built to hold horses and I was puzzled. No obvious tracks leading away. I was out right stump? I questioned my skills, my sanity and my eyes. So I went looking for her. I went out quite away and searched. I spotted some tracks but they were horse’s tracks. So I went searching again and none. I went back to the horse tracks and I looked closer. There in the middle of all the horses traffic was a split hoof print. That was her, and I followed her onto the juniper trees and down a wash. She was headed for the rocky slopes of slated shell stones. I got on top of a hill and I could barely make her out. It would have been too much of a head ache to get her. So I turned around to catch her another day. The integrity of the pen puzzled me. I rode back and looked over the pen and saw nothing wrong until I was climbing over a gate, it tilted. The top hinge was broken and that was how she busted out. But for some reason it stood back up to its original position, probably gravity or mechanics? She had a disliking toward horses; maybe they got a little too close for her comfort that night and charged. Eventually, I got her caught and sold at the local auction. She made an exit at the unloading dock by crashing open the trailer gate. The brand inspector couldn’t help but laughed while helping me load the gate. They thought she was a bull by the distance the gate flew. She was an old snorty cross bred Charolias with a bad intention to break loose. She was someone else’s problem after.
Posted on: Fri, 27 Sep 2013 05:45:28 +0000
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