The other mornin, durin one of my near-dawn strolls along the roads of the County Island here in the hot time, me and the bucket gal came across this here thing.
Now, if there’s any subject a retired ranch horse knows well, it’s cattle. And these here bones obviously belonged to a bovine — or, well, used to.
The bigger question was, where’d the rest of the cow go? And how’d a portion of him get here? And also, what was this particular part of him doin alongside a County Island road, near a purposeful pile of rocks like he’d been arranged as some kinda “front yard art”?
Only it wasn’t in the front yard of any house nor ranch, and I’m kinda doubtful it was art, myself, even with my own limited horse-knowledge of art. The people say art’s in the eye of the beholder, so I reckon that makes me beholden to critique it.
I can’t believe my own horse-thoughts even turned to this next part, but it appears to be part and parcel of being a County Island pet pleasure horse for so long. I couldn’t help but ponder — but only for a split second, mine ya — if these concocted chunks of cow had arisen from deep down inside the earth, like the coyote grave in the wash. And, well, if that ain’t where they came from, then I reckon I’ll never know. Like my dam always said, a horse shouldn’t go lookin for ghost cows where a ghost cow don’t exist, lest maybe he should find one some day. Better to stop, look, give it a “huh!” if ya need to, then put it out of your mind and keep movin along…