Once upon a County Island time, I hear tell there came a critter, or I reckon it’s a critter ‘cause I don’t know what else it’d be, called “the economy” that bolted and crashed through a whole lot of ranches and even people-barns, and then it fell down exactly like a big ol’ draft horse does when it comes upon the best place to drop and roll – with a thud that likely echoed even beyond the whole, entire County Island.
And the main thing the big ol’ economy left behind after it done dropped and rolled, and left for good, for I reckon whatever parts an economy goes to, was the County Island’s very own bonafide ghost town. It’s the sort of place ya either already know exists, or ya don’t, and the best way to find it is to find it for your own self. If I told ya where it was, I’d have to kick ya, as the sayin goes.
I ain’t a horse who spooks easy, and there also ain’t no such thing as ghosts for real other than the ghosts between some horses’ own ears. Truth to tell, it’s kinda fun to go for a walk through the empty streets of the County Island’s ghost town, in a pointless kinda fun way, like most things around here.
The ghost town was supposed to have a high-falutin equestrian (which means horse) facility and also plots of land for the people to stake their own people-barns and tiny ranches on, attached to the equestrian facility, so I’ve heard. But the economy came and flattened it all out long before even the first high-falutin equestrian horse moved in, and not even one people-barn got built even though a lot of busy people with County Island people-jobs already built the roads and the walls and the horse trail that was to go around it in a circle and got the town all set up and ready.
The only horses that live there at present is the two giant frozen statue ones out front, a big ol’ mare and her foal, stuck in time mid-gallop, like they had enough sense to try to run from the place.
A statue horse is like a real horse, only it’s made from a made-up people-thing called “bronze.” And it can spook a horse who ain’t prepared to meet a frozen bronze horse. But they ain’t nothin to be scared of, on account of they likely ain’t goin nowhere, havin not moved for at least the six people-years that I can count. Also, I ain’t never heard of another horse bein froze and turned into bronze by bein made to walk calmly past ‘em, so y’all and your own good horses ain’t go nothin to worry about as regards that.
Now the ghost town’s home to all the critters it was meant to keep out when the people and their fancy horses moved in – the bobcats, and the coyotes, and the regular birds and the quail-birds, and of course the javelinas, and all the snakes with rattles and without rattles, and all kinds of County Island rabbits from the little ones with cotton tails like I got surroundin my bucket each night, to the great big jackrabbits like the kind we go out to look for and admire with the hunt club. It’s chock full of critters.
It ain’t got tumbleweeds, as far as I can tell, but it seems like it could use some.
I thought maybe y’all would care to come along for a li’l County Island ghost town tour with me.
This here’s where the equestrian barns and prancin arenas and such was meant to be. Now it’s all ghost town empty.
I heard they supposedly built it all up, but then it got auctioned and sold off bit by bit. But that’s ridiculous. You can’t auction off barns and buildins and stuff the way you auction off us horses and livestock. That’d be ridiculous. So I don’t know for sure where it went, but I’m purty certain it wasn’t auctioned.
And this here’s the ghost town park that never was.
It was meant to be a gatherin place in the ghost town center, where the people could sit around and enjoy the grass, and who knows, maybe even their good equestrian horses could graze. It did have a tie rail for horses, too, but it’s gone now. It’s still right green and purty, as far as green and purty go on the County Island, even bein abandoned and such.
There’s still a few traces of horses here and there, such as these horse shoes that done got frozen into the pavement by the street. I try my best not to wonder in general, but I got to wonder where the actual horses went that left their shoes behind. And also, I hope this particular horse’s horse-shoer man eventually got his feet balanced right, ’cause it looks like he had a tiny pony hoof on one side and a proper hoof on the other.
Mostly, me and the bucket gal like to walk around the streets of the ghost town and see what there ain’t there to see. I reckon all the County Island critters like to call it home for that reason, too – on account of all the stuff that ain’t there and hopefully never will be, or not for a real long time.