of us are free to ride. Sometimes the snow contains just the right amount of moisture to make it " ball up” in the horse’ s shoe. This makes traveling difficult for the horse and also hazardous on the steeper trails. " Sunday morning came with a bright sun and a gentle breeze blowing from the southwest. The temperature was in the thirties and rising fast for the time of year. By 9:30 AM we had Major, Maybe and Blondie haltered and secured to the hitching rail. The horses had not been ridden for over six weeks and, of course, were full of pep and go.
" Major, my four-year-old Tennessee Walking stallion, seemed to sense he was going to get some action when I called for him to come to the door. He came out of the stall walking on his hind legs and gave out with a loud snort when I brought him down sharply with the lead rein. He is really very gentle but just can’ t resist showing off, especially on a cold day. Major is not a society horse. He has been trained only for pleasure riding. He is as much at home on the trail as he is in the English pleasure show ring. Maybe and Blondie are coming two-year-old palomino Tennessee Walkers, already well broken. J. W. and Jack are both light-weights, so they started riding these two when they were seventeen months old. After a couple of trips with the other horses, they took to trail-riding like veterans. Since they were rather young, I told the boys to let them travel at whatever gait seemed to be the easiest for them. Right off, they both took to an old-fashioned plantation fox-trot; however, they often switch over to a fast flatfoot walk. " After giving the horses a much-needed grooming, we saddled up and worked each of them on a rope for a few minutes. This was to warm them up and take off some of the wire edge.
" We mounted up and took off down the south pasture road that leads to the hills. All seemed to be serene until we passed the spring branch where the horses ordinarily drink. We decided to pass up watering them until we reached Little Creek, which is two and a half miles down the trail. This decision somehow didn’ t seem to suit Maybe. He gave his head a quick jerk downward and loosened his rein, and boy! did he give Jack a few anxious seconds! I saw plenty of daylight between Jack and the saddle, but each time he came down in the right place. After testing Jack for about a hundred and fifty feet, Maybe stopped as suddenly as he had started. I guess he still had some of that fifteen-degree-below-zero weather under his hide. Anyway, Jack came out of the ordeal grinning and had Maybe headed in the right direction.
" With the horses hitting a lively gait, we soon left the pasture lane and headed into the country road that leads to Little Creek. On reaching the creek we found it completely frozen over. The below-zero weather for the past weeks had transformed it into a beautiful but solid mass of ice. At this crossing point, the stream spreads rather shallowly over the limestone rocks. For that reason we decided to wait before watering until we reached a point in the hills where the creek was deeper and more sheltered. Near the foot of Weiss Mountain, we found a deep pool under a glistening icicle-covered bluff that of-
ON THE MOVE— As they leave the south pasture of the Lesh Ranch, all three Walking Horses appear eager to " make tracks " heading for Bald Mountain and higher ground.
fered plenty of water for our mounts. As they drank great gulps of the clear ice-cold water, their nostrils gave off puffs of air that looked like small clouds.
" By then we had passed the last snow-covered farmhouse that we would see for the next several miles. The sun was shining bright, and the snow, which had been disturbed only by wildlife in search of food, was something beautiful to behold
" The first part of our trail let to the top of Weiss Mountain, with a gradual climb most of the way.
" J. W. and Jack are not much on the talking side, so from there on, there was little conversation. About the only unnatural sounds were the horses breaking an occasional stick or hitting a hidden rock with their shoes. We were free to enjoy the beautiful handiwork of Mother Nature. As we neared the top of the mountain, the quietness and the beautiful white blanket that covered our forest seemed to bring us closer to the Creator of all this beauty.
" As we rode alone silently, we saw several coveys of bobwl ite( quail) huddled together on the sunny side of sheltered rocks. We saw fox-squirrels with their shiny red coats and long bushy tails scamper across our trail and climb into their den trees. Rabbits were to be seen watching us closely from under their sheltering bushes or grass. On our approach, a flock of wild turkey, with their bronze feathers glistening in the sun, raised their beautiful wings and took flight toward Sono Mountain. Across the trail were many fox and wolf tracks. At one spot we saw evidence that Mr. Fox had crossed our trail, hotly pursued by a pack of hounds. Down in the valley floor between Weiss and Bald Mountains, in the Post Oak flats, the snow told the story of the deer, pawing and rooting in the leaves in search of their favorite acorns.
" After leaving Weiss Mountain, we rode silently along the valley, reading the many signs of wildlife. We were on our way to Bald Mountain, which was on our return route. The mountain got her name for being just that: bald. He peak is a solid mass of
May, 1966 57