Trail Colic

Stryker and Lancer at the top of Mariano Mesa

June 15th . Clear skies and the mercury was hovering at 80 degrees where less than a week earlier a fire in the fireplace was necessary due to the cold, wind and rain. Riding Stryker and packing Lancer once again, I rode south along NM 36 for several miles heading for a gate at the top of Mariano Mesa where the highway crosses over on its way towards Quemado and the intersection with US 60. We had gotten off to a late start, departing after 3:00 PM, but, if necessary, we were prepared to spend the night.

After an hour of saddle time, I stopped under a big cedar tree along the highway to let the horses rest while I checked equipment. As I was standing there in the shade, one of the New Mexico State Police vehicles went by. I waved at them and the two surly youngsters dressed like Nazis gave me their version of a mad dog glare as they went by. These are the same brats that write citations to folks for driving across the two lane, 25 mile per hour speed limit highway from the café to the gas station without their seatbelts on. Small wonder nobody likes cops anymore. They used to be the friends of the public and the communities they served, but now they are from the government and they are definitely NOT here to help you.

What a difference between these black shirts and my retired cop buddies that could eat these scowling children alive in any sort of weapons or hands on engagement. Thirty minutes later they went by again travelling way over the speed limit and I just ignored them. These punks wouldn’t make a pimple on a real cop’s ass. Contempt is the word that best seems to fit.

Swinging up, we proceeded up the steep grade for another half mile and turned west through the gate at the top of the mesa, glad to leave the highway behind, only to be joined by an obnoxious mule and his burro sidekick. Lancer got himself all worked into a lather about these horse wannabes. The ornery beasts stayed with us all the way across the mesa annoying and irritating both Stryker and Lancer. Passing through a gate near the northern edge of the mesa, we finally left the nuisances behind. Good riddance.

Dozer cut trail at the top of Mariano Mesa

Locating the dozer cut we had struggled up several days earlier, we started down. As physically hard as it was going up that trail, it was far more dangerous trying to go down with the constant danger of a horse slipping and falling on top of you. After years of hauling a rucksack across rough country, I always try to make the trail home uphill. Far fewer injuries are sustained to knees and ankles when the body is tired going uphill than down.

Lancer

We reached the meadow at the bottom all in one piece and had not gone fifty yards when Lancer colicked. The event was precipitated by his getting all stressed and worked up over the mule and burro. Sweating profusely he tried to lie down and roll -saddle pack and all. Fortunately, he did not go down onto his left side as my rifle was on the left and I did not want a broken stock.

I got him up and started south keeping Stryker to a slower than normal walk. Lancer’s respiration was elevated and he was a very ill horse and in obvious pain but I had to keep him going. Banamine injections were in the saddlepack but I don’t like to use them unless it is absolutely necessary. Nobody likes a tummy ache but they can be especially dangerous to horses. Walking keeps the bowels moving and prevents the horse from rolling and twisting a gut which is fatal and they will die in excruciating agony. Pain alone can kill a horse. I did not want to have to shoot my horse but I had lost my mare Shiloh to such an agonizing death and never again will I watch my horse helplessly as they suffer so and die.

The Almighty and I had a real unpleasant chat that included a good deal of swearing about such unnecessary suffering for an innocent and faithful animal. The writing of the great theologian, CS Lewis, eventually brought me through the event spiritually whole but emotionally wounded.

If worse had come to worse, I would have made a high line out of my lariat, cached my gear and tied Lancer off where he could walk in circles. An IV administration of 20ccs of Banamine and then a wait and see for 20-30 minutes would have been the sequence of events. If he had gotten much worse I would have had to decide whether to leave him and ride hell for leather for the ranch, hook up a horse trailer and bring it back as close as I could get to him or just camp with him and hope for the best. I suppose that is why I am so contemptuous of people that ride ATVs, dirt bikes and four wheelers. They act like it is such a crisis when one breaks down when they are away from home. At least they don’t have to shoot it.

An hour later, we passed the first well with actual water in it for the day. Lancer was doing a bit better though still uncomfortable. He is a very affectionate horse and he put his head down against my chest clearly asking me to make him feel better. Very little upsets me more than to see an animal in pain, especially one that relies upon me for their care and protection. I feel like a failure when I cannot make things better for them and failure is something I do not do well.

Ranch gate at sundown

Two more hours of slow but steady walking and we came down the gravel drive to the ranch headquarters as the late spring sun was dropping in the west and the clock was reading nearly 8:00 PM Mountain Daylight Time.

After stripping Lancer's gear and turning him out into the arena, Lisa came out and put together a warm bran mash for him and stood holding the bucket while he ate it all with enthusiasm. That was a good sign. I checked him throughout the night and he was doing OK though looking a bit the worse for wear by first light.

Homesteaders fence gate on the original wagon tracks (circa 1930)

It took the better part of three months to put together the route from the ranch across Mariano Mesa to Baca Spring and points south. Nearly a dozen rides with most ending in dead ends due to impassable country or fences were required to puzzle out a way through this grand land and avoid being stuck between the ditches riding the highways. During all of these scouts, we have never seen a soul except when on the highway.

Most city folks cannot imagine such an environment. I read somewhere that the average person born and raised in a city spends their entire life within a maximum of twenty feet of another person. They might be separated by walls or windshields, but they are jammed up right on top of each other. Of greater surprise is that in these days of uncertain events and the threat of pandemics and disruption of infrastructure, more people are actually leaving rural areas and moving into the mega cities. The need to be near conveniences is no doubt the driving force.

The close confines of city living appeals to folks. Wal-Mart, Starbucks, gyms (disease transmissions sites), movie theatres, social circles, and fast food seem to be a poor substitute for clean air, sweet water and the freedom from listening to the racket of the neighborhood.

Of late, even men I have known for many years and that I considered to be stand up independent guys have displayed a need for comfort and convenience that I do not understand. Doesn’t work for me, but I view sparsely populated country as I do heaven – the fewer there are in it, the more room there is for me.

It does make it easier however to see why the more densely packed people are, the more they depend upon government to take care of them. The policies of the current administration demonstrate that Homeland gestapo czar Napolitano and the rest of the control minions understand this and are working to make it easier to control larger numbers of people. With the demographic shifts in America in both ethnicity and geographic location, both groupings which tend towards more government and the nanny state, it is therefore small wonder that the progressive elites and the brain dead public that buys into their collective nonsense do not understand individual freedom or the environment they bleat about saving. They have never experienced either one.

Far Rider

See to your weapons and stand to your horses