Blazing Saddles

I have had very limited experience with animals in my life, beyond birds and fish. So I felt a little like Dr. Doolittle when I came to Mexico. Suddenly, I was surrounded by and partially responsible for horses, goats, chickens, roosters, ducks, and dogs. I have found it to be both funny and frustrating. Here is just one of my animal tales.

While living in Buenavista, Neto took up the common practice of moving our horses, Lakota and Sonora, along a road full of free sacate (a nice word for weeds). The horses were tied by a long rope to a fence or a post in the ground. This went on for several months until the time came for us to move to San Isidro.

We had loaded our truck with our personal belongings, placing two saddles on the side of the truck. The plan was to drop Brad off on our way to San Isidro. He would ride the horses in the direction of San Isidro while we delivered our goods. Then I would bring Neto back to join him for whatever remained of the journey (about 3 hours by horse).

To our dismay, the horses were not where we had left them, although we had seen them there just a few hourse before. Perhaps we were mistaken. We'd moved them to another spot. But, alas, no. We drove up and down the road, searching with ever-increasing anxiety. They were gone.

Near the spot we had last seen them, I spotted a line that appeared to be from bicycle tires followed by horseshoe prints heading back toward the pueblo. (You probably didn't know I was such an expert tracker.) Our first instinct was that somebody, perhaps kids, had stolen the horses and were leading them to their new home. I followed the line until it disappeared into the sacate. However, after locating and interrogating eyewitnesses along the road, we discovered the truth. Our seemingly innocent horses had escaped from their prison on the prairie.

We followed a lead given to us by some people walking along the main road. Lakota and Sonora were using backroads to avoid being seen. But we were hot on their trail. Oh, the unexplicable joy the three of us (Neto, Brad, and I...not the horses) felt when we spotted them tied to a fence near a little house. A little old man, his wife, and their many animals were out in the yard. These people were not rich by any means. They weren't even poor. In fact, it was apparent that they had very little beyond our horses. The sale of these two horses would have brought much needed funds. Fortunately, these were kind people, happy to see us reunite with our lost friends.

On a good day this would be the end of our tale. But this was not a good day. Neto walked to the truck to get the saddles. At last Brad and the horses could begin their trek to San Isidro. But where was one of the saddles? In our quest to find the horses, we had missed the fact that one of the saddles had fallen from it's place on the side of the truck. Brad and Neto headed out, while I remained behind, hoping to find the saddle had merely landed on the side of the road. However, it was not to be. They returned. No saddle and no hope. We asked the nice couple to watch our horses awhile longer while we dropped off our load in San Isidro. They agreed, and we were on our way. As we drove, we continued to ask people walking and driving along the street. But the trail was cold. No one knew anything.

Oh ye of little faith. Have you forgotten that I am an expert tracker? I spotted the saddle on the back of a motorcycle parked by a house. It's captor was down the road celebrating his find with friends and beer. Neto walked down the road, hoping to reclaim the saddle with ease. In fact, the men were not only negotiating their bee, but also a reasonable price for the sale of the saddle. After some discussion, they sold the saddle back to Neto. They were kind enough to give him a discount, as he was the original owner.

As I said earlier...on a good day this would be the end of our tale. But this was not a good day. For Brad, the adventure had only begun...