Sore Nose

One fall, a friend of mine wanted to go out onto the Canaan Mountains to check for deer sign. The trip sounded interesting to me so we got our horses and camp outfits together and hauled out to Short Creek and up the canyon a couple miles to the end of the road. Here we unloaded and packed our bed and food on Snuffy, a snaky, Navajo Injun mule, I had traded for a couple years before. The trail climbed to the northwest over slick-rock and short stretches along sandy draws. Some places the solid sandstone mountainside inclined at such a steep angle that the horses had difficulty holding their footing, although the two mules climbed over these steep surfaces with no problem.

I was on Tigger, a good dependable buckskin mule of about 1100 lbs weight. My 10 year old daughter, Liberty, was riding a stout red and white pony of good size. Jay, my friend, was on board his horse, Rusty, a nice gelding sort of chestnut roan in color. By noontime we topped out on the high ridges of this massive chunk of sandstone. The wind and rains had worn sand particles from the solid rock sufficient to fill the bottoms of the draws with loose sand into which the horses sank ankle deep as they walked along. Big tall long leaf pine trees found moisture deep in the sand filled crevices. Clumps of scrub oaks grew along with the pine trees in the deeper sand. Here and there long lines of old man brush marked the sand filled fissures. Some smaller brush and weeds grew here and there, but much of the mountain top consisted of solid sandstone.

We followed a big draw to a point where there was a drop off from a higher elevation. Here lay a reservoir of water within a sand basin that sustained a small pool, clear and cold. Although there were no live springs on this mountain, such water pockets as this supplied drinking water for all the animals that lived on or passed through this hard land. The deep shade in a grove of saw timber near the water pocket made an ideal place to camp. Jay had brought along some dried vegetables from his garden that he wanted to try out so he got busy making us a vegetable stew. I'd tasted better but under the circumstances we ate it with relish. The horses searched out the scattered bunches of grass and picked at the oak leaves, this wasn't the best country for horse feed.

After we rested awhile and put our camp in shape for the night we saddled up and rode north several miles toward some lofty points called Eagle's Nest. A big sandy slope spread out before us that was covered with sage and bitter brush, with patches of scrub oak scattered about. This was ideal browse for the big mule deer but only the tracks of a small bunch of does and fawns crossed our way. Then we circled west to the edge of the mountain where it broke away for 3,000 feet down onto the foothills above the dry land corn country of what was known as the big plains. A long line of tall pine trees marched out straight as it followed a big crack across the top of the mountain. This we followed toward the south 2 or 3 miles. Scattered deer tracks indicated a few head ranged in this area, but it was plain to see that hunting here would not be very profitable.

We returned to camp by sundown where Jay fried some hamburger and taters. The horses were grained and then I tied Rusty and Shorty up just before we went to bed. Mules are not likely to leave horses by themselves, so we left them loose with hobbles on their front feet. The next morning was cool and fresh with the smell of pine and sage on the air. After we fed the horses and ate some of Jay's hot cakes, we took a circle to the south and eastward. I was riding Snuffy this morning and Tigger was left loose to follow along, as mules tend to get excited if left tied at camp. Big deep canyons cut down through the rock mountain in this direction. The ridges in between were composed of solid rock that curved into the canyon gorge at an ever increasing angle. I had been riding Snuffy some and knew I could stay on him in his most exuberant efforts to shed me. After 3 or 4 hours of scouting around the sun got hot making the horses sweat and Snuffy began to lag behind. My spurs were in camp so I asked Jay to loan me his. After putting them on my heels I climbed back on and gave Snuffy a jab. He bogged his head and went jumping down the steep side of a solid rock ridge.

I heard Liberty holler, "Ride him, Dad" and I thought "I'm doing all right" then a great blinding flash burst before me. -I raised up off the rock and opened my eyes and saw Snuffy trotting down the ridge about 100 yards, guess I'd been out for a few seconds. My saddle was there between my legs. Mules have small withers that won't hold a saddle on. I had a crupper under his tail and tied to my saddle but he had switched his tail out of it as he bucked which let the saddle go down over his head. The big flash was created when my face hammered against that solid rock. 'Course my nose struck first, which cushioned the collision and saved me from cracking my head. My nose was skinned off like a fresh peeled beet and I wasn't feeling too perky, so we caught ol' Tigger for the ride back to camp. I'm about as sore toward that mule as the end of my nose, so when we packed up next morning I lashed everything we had on his ornery of back. He can't get rid of that load cause it's tied on with plenty of rope.

As consolation, it's been a fun trip with my daughter. To watch her set on that little horse was a great joy to me. She sure knows how to handle a horse.