Monday, March 19, 2012

Chapter 7: The Wolf-pack


"Early that Sunday afternoon Pa rode Patty away across the prairie to see what he should see. There was plenty of meat in the house, so he did not take his gun.

He rode away through the tall grass, along the rim of the creek bluffs. Birds flew up before him and circled and sank into the grasses. Pa was looking down into the creek bottoms as he rode; perhaps he was watching deer browsing there. Then Patty broke into a gallop, and swiftly she and Pa grew smaller. Soon there was only waving grass where they had been."


It only takes Pa and Mr. Edwards one day to build a strong stable out of logs for Pet and Patty. There is no door for the stable, but Pa drives two strong poles, one on each side of the door, and piles up logs behind them until they completely cover the opening.

Pa finishes late that night, while the moon was shining, and it's a good thing, because the next morning there is a new baby colt waiting in the stable when Pa removes the logs. It has long legs, long ears, and Laura runs to hug it. Pet snaps at her and bares her big, white teeth. Pa says that Laura, Mary, and Baby Carrie must stay away from Pet while her baby is small.

Pa sets Pet out on her picket line and the little baby frisks and hops around its mother. Pa says it is a mule, but Laura thinks it looks like a little jackrabbit, so they name it Bunny.

That Sunday, Pa heads across the prairie for a nice ride on Patty. He is gone for a very long time. Jack begins to act strangely, walking up and down and looking worried. The hair stands up on his neck, then lies down, then stands up again. He paces back and forth, and Pet keeps her colt close beside her. Both animals stare across the prairie in the direction Pa had gone.

"Likely it isn't anything, Laura," Ma says.

Suddenly, Patty comes racing across the prairie, Pa stretched almost flat across her neck. She runs so fast that she runs right past the stable before Pa can get her to stop. Ma and Laura both wonder why Pa is driving Patty so hard, but Pa tells them it was all he could do to hold her back at all.

"Fifty wolves, Caroline, the biggest wolves I ever saw. I wouldn't go through such a thing again, not for a mint of money."

"We'll eat supper in the house," says Ma.

During supper, Pa tells everyone about his adventures. He was delayed many times during the day meeting new neighbors and helping families, so he started home much later than he expected to. As he was loping across the prairie, a wolf pack came out of a little draw and surrounded Patty. They were huge and trotted right along beside Pa and Patty. They walked along together for a quarter of a mile or so, then the wolves went down into the creek bottoms.

"As soon as the last wolf was in the draw, I let Patty go."

Pa talks to Ma some more about the wolves and how they would have eaten him if they'd been hungry. Jack walks around the campfire and stands still to smell the air. The hair on his neck begins to lift.

"Bedtime for little girls," Ma says, cheerfully.

Thoughts:
It was night as I read this chapter for the first time. The cats had been out for their last frolic of the evening, the dogs were inside, and only Snickers was still stubbornly clinging to freedom in the great outdoors. Then a coyote howled.

Another one joined in, or several thousand, because coyotes have a way of making way more noise then their size and numbers warrant. They were very close to the house, out in a plowed field to the east. I called Caleb and we both dashed out to try and find Snickers. He wouldn't come for a minute or so and I began to worry that all the howling had been an invitation to dinner after a successful hunt.

But then Caleb had the idea of using his laser and lured Snickers out of wherever he'd been hiding. Wolves, coyotes, they've done their part to build the mystique of the Wild West. There's just something so...thrilling...about hearing their calls, especially in the dark at close quarters when you're on a first-name basis with their intended prey. Even more especially if you ARE their intended prey.

This was one of the most exciting chapters of the series so far. The danger of the wolves, the thrilling image of Pa dashing across the prairie on his faithful steed. If only I had a faithful steed to dash across the prairie on. Fortunately, I knew someone with a faithful steed and they were willing to let me take a trail ride out at their ranch.

The ranch has been in the family since it was homesteaded three generations ago. In fact, the original homestead cabin is still on the property. The family mixes farming with cattle ranching--raising durum wheat and beef cattle.


When I arrived, the young members of the family competently set out to saddle the horses. Meanwhile, I wandered delicately amongst the cattle pens learning why the bottoms of cowboy boots are smooth. I was wearing hiking boots made for gripping rough terrain. The terrain was not rough, but my boots still gripped, if you get my drift.



They gave me the most patient horse they had, but I still felt the need to regularly apologize to the poor thing. I could almost hear her. "I know WAY more than she does, but she's the one holding the reins?" Here is a picture of me with the long-suffering beast. It probably wondered why it deserved such a fate after years of loyal service.



Getting on a horse is very easy, for those of you uninitiated in the horsey arts. Simply raise your knee level with your eyebrows and slip your foot into the stirrup. Then stand up and slide your other leg gently over the horse's back. Nothing to it.





We headed up the coolie past all the expectant bovine mothers brought into pasture for their blessed events. They looked at us with bemusement, doubtless wondering why we were so foolish as to leave the warmth and shelter of the coolie for the wind-swept prairie beyond. I think I even saw a few of them stick out their tongues at the horses on our way past. But that may only have been my imagination.


"I never wanted anything worse than I wanted to get away from there. But I knew if Patty even started, those wolves would be on us in a minute, pulling us down. So I held Patty to a walk."



Doubtless by now, you are wondering when I got to the place where I galloped across the prairie, free as the wind. Well, I didn't, OK?! Walking across the prairie as free as the wind turned out to be enough excitement for me. But I crossed a stream and went along a slightly slanted hill....that counts for something, doesn't it?




At last it was time to turn around. I posed for one last glamorous photo to document my equine experience. It was beautiful. My horse reared up as I lounged in the saddle with easy grace. Or at least, that's what it seemed like at the time. The photos look a little different, but I think the exposure wasn't quite right or something.


"Patty headed straight for home, across the prairie. And she couldn't have run faster if I'd been cutting into her with a rawhide whip."

Once we were headed back towards the barn, warmth, and fresh hay, the docile, gentle angels of the first part of the ride began to show another side altogether. What had been a soft, rocking rhythm became a jarring trot that threatened to send my tonsils down into my toes.

Noticing that no one else seemed to be experiencing difficulty I managed to bounce out, "How do you ride so smoothly when they are trotting?"

"Oh, you just rock back and forth like you're in a rocking chair," drifted back the airy reply.

I'm sorry, there was no back and forth.

There was only an up.

And there was only a down.

Within a minute or two I discovered what a mistake it had been to wear my sandpaper jeans that morning. As they rubbed raw parts of my anatomy that are used to far gentler treatment, I thought longingly of flannel and fleece and goose-down.

My knees were a quivering mass of jelly as I tried vainly to absorb some of the impact away from my more-tender portions. I stood on first one leg, and then the other, but no matter how much I clicked my heels together and chanted, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home...." we didn't get there one moment sooner than we arrived.

I slid groaningly off my horse's back, no longer feeling the need to apologize to my "faithful" steed. It had had its revenge. Oh, yes, it had! I swayed up to the van with a rolling gait that would have been the envy of any cowboy, but my whimpers and yelps may have given me away. Perhaps that's why cowboys yodel. I shall have to learn before my next trip, but I think we will wait a bit before tackling galloping. I expect my nether regions should be up to that within a century or so.

On the bright side, the place in my back that's been bothering me forever feels a lot better now. Evidently all that jiggling put something back into place. But a chiropractor is a much gentler method!

Many thanks to the kind family that let me use their horse and took time out of their busy day to take me on a ride!


3 comments:

  1. Just like "The Man From Snowy River"!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Banjo Patterson would be proud -

    There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
    That the colt from old Regret had got away,
    And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound,
    So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
    All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
    Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
    For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
    And the stockhorse snuffs the battle with delight.

    ReplyDelete
  3. what the heck!!!!!!!!!!

    ReplyDelete