We became well acquainted on my first trail clearing ride at Glorieta. He was our packhorse and carried the chainsaws, fuel and other tools. When we reached the top of Baldy after a 4+ hour ride, we stopped for lunch and turned the horses loose to graze. Pablo, friendly fellow that he is, came over to see if what we were eating was more tasty than grass and took interest in my sandwich. I thought it was cute and hopped up to snap a photo. Much to my surprise, when I returned to my seat there was a large bite missing out of my lunch! That was just the beginning... Pablo kept my life interesting by mastering the art of snatching Lefty's wallet out of his back pocket, fitting an entire lead rope in his mouth like a wad of gum, blowing out his belly to keep his cinch loose and giving me the innocent look when I came out of the tackroom to see what the disturbance was at the tie rail.
Known as the horse with the mohawk, he often lived up to it and was a real punk. But every now and again, the mischief gave way to a glimpse of something brighter. One of those times came on a day when the mud was so deep it was seeping into the tops of my boots. The trails were much too slick to ride and so I was filling my day with barn chores. About half way through the morning I decided to let the horses out into a small area of grass we had fenced off with electric wire for grazing. Since I was going to be at the barn, I could keep an eye on them and let them enjoy the good grass - a rare treat in New Mexico!
So, I started making my way out into the pasture, whistling and calling. The mud and muck were deep and slick and I slipped, slid and almost face planted several times. When I finally found a few of the herd, I started making my way behind them to drive them in, thinking all the while how much they were going to enjoy that grass. However, as soon as they sensed my intention to take them in, they snorted, wheeled and ran away into the hills. They thought I was going to make them work. I started to follow, slipped once more and realized that it was useless - there was no way I was going to catch them in footing that bad.
Frustrated and muddy I headed back to the barn. As I rounded the corner to the catch pen, I heard a noise and looked up. There was Pablo looking expectantly at me, "Hi! I'm here! What are we going to do?" I laughed, patted his neck and led him out to the grazing area where he spent several hours with the grass all to himself (the stuff of dreams for that pony).
As I walked away, recalled that C.S. Lewis once wrote we are all like children who continue making mudpies because we cannot imagine what is meant by a holiday at the sea. I wondered how many times Jesus had wanted to offer me green pastures and I chose mud instead. I'll probably never know in this life, but the day that Pablo got it right has inspired me to keep my heart open for any sea holidays that might look like just more work at first glance.
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