Our Visit to the Rough String, Continued

Darling and I headed back down the mountain road, disappointed at not getting any close up and personal experiences this time around with wild horses. Second guessing, we wondered if we ought to have gone up to the South Steens instead in an effort to find Dibs, Honor and the Old Dun.

Eyes ever peeled for dead things, Darling spotted this bone hanging from a fence post. For whatever reason, Darling seems to enjoy playing with dead things. The bone found it's way into the trunk and has joined the horse skull we hauled home two years ago.

Later in the afternoon we met up with Andi at her place for a nice visit. We got to meet her new little calf, went out through the sage in search of a turkey hen who's gone missing (undoubtedly hiding her new clutch of chicks), and of course scratched a few horses behind the ears. Darling practiced her creative photography skills while we were there.


There was so much we wanted to do, but our one day in the sun was coming to an end. The clouds were gathering and an electrical storm was brewing. Lightning bolts were striking; this isn't something we see often up here in our little wooded corner of the world. Darling loved it, I felt like a dog looking for cover. We rushed back to the hotel, the dust on poor City Boy's car turning to streaks of mud along the way.

Sunday morning we rose, packed up our handful of belongings and headed back up highway 20. Timed right, we'd be there while the part time weekend staff was out feeding at the corrals. It's been nearly six months since picking up Steve Holt!, and mares have begun to foal.

This little guy has no tag on his neck yet; I suspect he was a Memorial Day weekend baby.

Um...he followed me home?
No, he didn't, but I'd have liked to have stuffed him in my trunk!

Very attractive bay mare look ready to foal.

This guy was very appealing. Look at those feet!
He'd likely go forever up in the mountains.

The drive back north was uneventful. Sun shining down through our sunroof, Darling bundled up in the blanket about halfway home in an effort to avoid listening to me singing to Rascal Flatts. We hated leaving, but were anxious to get home and see our not so wild any more ponies back here.

Plus...we had a photo to look at on the computer. We still didn't know if we'd seen horses or shadows up on the ridge in Warm Springs.