About seventeen years ago, Tom and I sold a big sorrel horse to a gentleman up near the Canadian line.   We called the horse "Leap", and he was quite a character.  Leap had come to us as a 3 year old.  Tom used to ride the youngsters for his brother- the deal being Tom would ride three and get his pick of one.   Leap was big- kind of gawky looking, and really kind of a knot-head.  He was a character though- and his willingness to work and his gentle nature made him one of my favorite rides.     It was a stretch to get on, but I was well mounted.   Unfortunately, real life dealt us some vehicle repair bills, loan payments needing paid.... And we decided to sell Leap. 
    Every few years, we'd run in to Leap's new owner.  He'd changed his name to "Big Red", and with every conversation it was clear he thought the world of his big red horse.    As Big Red, Leap had a great life.  He was well taken care of, spoiled in a good sort of way, and didn't have to work as hard as he would of if he would have remained here with us.  His owner would share Big Red's antics, and we were relieved and thrilled to know our Leap had gone to such a great home. 
     Earlier this year, Big Red's owner tracked us down.  It was not such an easy feat, as we had moved three times and had an unlisted phone number.   He had retired from farming and ranching, leased his place out, and was looking for a good home for Big Red.  Arrangements were made, and Big Red was loaded in our trailer, and Leap was returned home.
    Oddly enough,  our third move had been back to the Diamond Bar- the ranch we lived on when Tom and I married, and where Leap was born and raised.  I was so very excited to see him again, and when he walked off the trailer we headed for the barn.  Seventeen years later, Leap walked in the barn, walked into "his" stall, stuck his nose in the oats box, and then turned and looked at us as if to say "Where's my grain?".    After that many years, he remembered the drill as if he'd only been gone a day. 
    Now, I have to admit, it was the sentimental side of us that agreed to bring Leap home.  We thought very highly of him when he was young.  The practical side of us argued with that sentimental side, knowing Leap was for all intents and purposes- "retired".  Tom spends some very long hours in the saddle over some pretty rough ground, and it's a lot to ask of an old horse.   We are limited on the number of horses we can care for.   Bringing Leap home meant we would be taking up a spot that could be used for a younger, more usable horse.  Thank goodness we don't always do things according to logic though, as Leap has been a blessing!
    The old man is still in great shape, with a lot of "git-up-and-go" left.  He's got many years of knowledge under his cinch, and he knows how to take care of himself.  That same gentle nature we grew to love has only matured in his 20's.  And the greatest part?    Leap and Wylee have hit it off, and he's teaching her so much about how to handle a herd of cows.   On Wylee and Leap's first adventure, Tom's instructions to Wy were "Give that horse his head and let him go to work!".   Wylee came home with a big grin on her face, convinced that Leap knew what the cows were going to do before the cows did!  
    As for Tom and I?  Well, we've been reminded of the value of an old horse.  Welcome home Leap. 

Tom and I took a much needed trip over to the "Nick field" on Sunday to visit Neechi, Eloquence, and the mares and saddle horses that are turned out with them.  Neechi never fails to come right up and say hello.  I usually leave there with his nose print on my lens.  Eloquence has not been handled as much as Neechi, so her "personal space bubble" is a little bigger than his, but I've discovered that makes her much easier to photograph.    All the horses are looking good, but I have vowed to wage a one woman war against the burrs next summer.   The horses and the cows are full of them this time of year.  
So much happening here on the home-front.  This year has been a mad rush of trying to get things done before winter.  Usually there is a few weeks in between the time the haying is done and when the fall herd work needs to begin.   That's not the case this year, and ready or not, it's time to start bringing the cattle in from their summer pastures so calves can be weaned and the herd can be preg tested.   From now until the end of October, most of Tom's time will be spent on a horse.  Truth be known,  it's one of our favorite times of year. 
A little off topic, but something I wanted to share, as it is truly one of a livestock producers worst nightmares... A couple links to what our South Dakota neighbors have been going through (pictures may be disturbing to some viewers) - here  and here .   I read a comment on Facebook written by a woman that asked "what do the ranchers care?  They only think about the money lost."    I cannot express in words how far off the mark that sentiment is.  Yes- cattle are our livelihood.  Our entire lives are dedicated to being caretakers of these animals from the time of conception until the time we put them on a truck and they are no longer in our care.    I would like to assure those folks- When Tom and I go out and find a newborn calf  that is chilled and can't get up, and we bring it into our home to warm it up and get it up and going so he can go back to his momma, it is not dollar signs we see.  When we come across a cow that has somehow gotten herself stuck in a bog hole and is unable to get out because she has struggled so long that she is weak... we will get right down in the mud with her to get her out- not because we see dollar signs, but because these are living, breathing beings that deserve the best care we can give them.  I have NEVER met a cattle producer that likes to see their animals suffer.  To suggest such a thing, obviously, offends me to the core.    There are times when we do every thing humanly possible to keep our cattle safe and healthy, and mother nature deals a blow that is beyond  our capabilities.  It's tragic, and yes- it can be financially devastating-  but I guarantee you every one of those producers first thoughts were something along the lines of "Damn it- if only I could have got to them in time" not because of that financial loss, but because the care of these animals is something they have dedicated their lives to.   My thoughts and prayers are with these livestock producers in South Dakota.