Through the smoke yesterday, I took a walk around the neighborhood. It’s a 25 minute loop through a maze of houses that all look a lot like Winterpast. Each morning, I spy little improvements or changes that’d be nice to try on my own home, while noticing horse poop on the streets. A common summer occurrence, the nightly neighborhood food and water raids of the mustangs cause damage and distress to us human folks.
In my mind’s eye, I imagine karate-chopping residents bursting out of open doors in the wee hours of the morning in raging efforts to shoo them away. Each night, piles of poop trickled with a splash of urine litter the streets, used as sign posts to guide them back. Even the growl of a protective dog doesn’t detour them. Smart enough they are to have learned the fences around here aren’t only to keep them out, but to keep biting dogs in. These animals are very similar to marauding deer, but deer with brains while being four times the size. Cunning and creatively crafty.
With morning breezes resembling Hawaiian trade winds, I pledged to work a little harder on my morning constitutional. Although Winterpast provides a regimen of daily activities, a morning walk provides the opportunity for cardio training. So, plug along I did, weaving around the piles of poop as I headed on my way.
Mustangs do most damage during the night. A terracotta planter told of their visit, absent of flowers freshly planted the day before. Sprinkler pipes broken. Hoof-printed paths over expensively landscaped rock patterns. Costly garden cloth, installed under gravel to keep sage and tumbleweeds at bay, pulled up and shredded looking for the source of the moisture underneath. Adding the ultimate insult, unwanted deposits along the way. Once, VST observed a wild stallion kick our utility trailer for no reason at all. Just because it felt good and it could. Wild and unpredictable, these are not your barn sour nags, but wild animals.
The neighborhood approach to mustang abatement is varied. Some deep pocketed residents have ended the nightly follies by putting up fencing. Black iron, split rail, stone, or white plastic fencing, installed to keep rock yards pristine and untrampled. A little overkill in my opinion, but, too each his own. The real damage these huge animals can do is to wipe out an entire sprinkler system. With water at a premium and repairs not cheap either, some people have opted for the fencing.
There are other houses at which the nightly war between man and beast is in full swing. Ropes circle landscaping held up by stakes or trees, decorated with plastic bags, strips of caution tape, or reflective ornaments. Anything that moves in the night breezeswill startle the mares, stallions , and foals while these family units pilfer as one. Night after night, more inventive deterrents appear. I pledge to live and let live until my yard is under siege. With little food or water in the front, I think I’m safe for now, but, you just never know. The first time one of these beasts clears my fence to nestle in my oasis, there’ll be trouble.
Extreme heat combined with lack of rain intensifies their search for food and water. It’s all about survival. An interesting fact in desert life is that plants such as sage or tumbleweeds are full of water. Weeding around here is a wet experience, each plant brimming with water. Bare handed, I can’t pick more than one without remembering to retrieve my leather gloves as these plants also have sharp thorns and barbs. It’s amazing that anything could munch away on them as the mustangs do. My hands are sore after getting poked just once.
On my walks, I’ve noticed that my garden oasis is one of the last left in the area. As younger families move in, yards transition into decorative stone quarries. Water is needed for dishes and showers more than for peonies and roses. So sad it is that the delights of gardening are lost on the young. Living with rock landscaping for the last 13 years, I need the soothing comfort of green and colorful things in the gardens of Winterpast. The birds appreciate my efforts, even if Oliver is as irritating as a noisy kazoo with his threatening barks. The bird families have learned his short legs and lack of thumbs limit his attacks as they laugh at him and carry on.
One of these nights, I may sit on the front porch and watch as the equine parade passes by. Memories of listening to the middle-of-the-night clippity-clops of hooves coming down A Street in Virginia City make me smile.
Distant. Clip. Less Distant. Clop. Closer. Clip. In front. Clop. Past. Clip. Further. Clop. Down the bend and towards the Canyon. Clippity clop. Into the night. Never a change in pace, just the study rhythm of their journey towards food, water, and safety. Visualizing their movement past our house toward the canyon, somedays I would love to disappear with them to learn their secrets.
VST was with the group of hysterical-ites, being the first on the street to clean up their overnight gifts. If not cleaned up, the next group will mark on top of the pile. And the next. And the next. You get the picture. Pretty soon, the mess has grown into a mass of poop. Another bit of wisdom I now appreciate. VST knew so much about the many things swirling in that big old head of his. The need to eliminate horse poop ASAP was something he wished he’d never knew.
This evening holds promise of fun. In OTP (Out of Town Park, for those of you new to the blog), the monthly Family Movie Night In The Park is returning, featuring treats provided by Joannie’s Ice Cream and Smoothies. Toy Story 4 is the featured movie, causing a need to review the story lines for Toy Story 1-3. It’ll be fun to sit out under the stars and enjoy the sounds of families enjoying a summer’s night. Things are just better in a small town.
Be grateful for all your blessings. Life is rich and wonderful. Enjoy today.