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