Not elk killing, but one wet year we were late and going down the trail from Warnock Corral to our 3,500 foot camp on Temperance Creek. We had golly knows how many horses and mules and we were carrying the whole camp with us ... plus some feed.
Anyway, it was a dark and rainy night and the mud was running down the horse trail like cement flowing down a chute. I was kinda in the middle and my horse was just following the pack horse in front of him.
Anyway, I can't see [bleep], it's just black and we hit a steep part of the down trail and I can feel my horse, Gus, lock his front legs stiff and rare back. He's sitting down on his back legs and we're skidding uncontrolled down the trail. Did I mention I couldn't see [bleep]?
Then, I hear a horse wreck in front of me. The outfitter was in front of me with maybe ten dallied horses and his horse absolutely COULD NOT negotiate the turn in the trail. The horse just plain went up and over and into a thicket and down into the creek.
Horses were screaming. The outfitter is yelling. Horses are thrashing around.
Then, I saw the outfitter's flashlite pop on.
[bleep], things are serious. All you horse hunters know that you NEVER light a flashlight in the dark. It kills your horses night vision for a time.
When the outfitter lit that light and I knew things were bad.
Then, I came closer to the light and I never had a chance. My horse went right off the end of the trail (the one flowing mud like [bleep] cement) and I'm off and into the slew of downed, thrashing and dicked-up tailed horses.
Gut hit the creek and I went over his head, right into four feet of Temperance Creek ... It was maybe 35� and the creek was prolly colder. Gus was thrashing around and my tailed mules were screaming, thrashing and mostly down & fighting.
The noise, the confusion, was unreal.
I never heard it when Karen came to the edge and somehow her horse made the corner and down the trail. She heard us, of course and the literal combat zone.
Not so, the outfitter's wife. Her horse almost made the corner, but slipped off and into the brush slightly further down. She also ended up in the creek. Her language and putting together of words we all know ... well, it was very inventive
That was it, three horse wrecks out of four bunches of tailed horses & mules.
The miracle was that nobody; no person, no horse, no mule was hurt. A couple of the mules had scrapes, but nobody died and there were no broken bones.
The outfitter's wife and I about froze to death on the way to camp and I ended up walking quite a bit, holding Gus' tail (he was GREAT that way) on the flats. Downhill or up, I mounted Gus and relied on his steadiness.
Anyway, it all ended well, but I surely thought we had some dead or horribly disabled horseflesh, not to mention our own safety.
Obviously, this is all first-draft and if I wrote it up for an article, it would probably double in size and, hopefully, be finer writing. But, it will never see print ... only right here.
Dominus vobiscum,
Steve
