It was on one of the aforementioned Saturday Morning rides down the grade to the Rubidoux, it was early fall. The trees were still full of leaves but just starting to turn. It was quiet and bright and clear and about as good a morning for a ride as ever there was. About half way down the grade Ginger stopped and started rotating her ears in that direction-finding mode she had...I had watched her do this thousands of times. She could pick up sounds and figure out where they came from with uncanny accuracy.
Ginger loved deer. On the north side of our stall and mini-corral was an acre to an acre and a half of grassy field before the treeline. Deer would sneak in during the night and steal a lick of salt from some of the corrals. At the evening cleanup sessions I would often see several deer waiting just inside the trees; waiting for the two legged types to leave so they could grab a taste. When they were over there, Ginger would track their every move with her ears...she was good at it, too.
So when she stopped on this particular morning and went into deer-loving mode, I sat still and looked around for her target. It only took a minute to see what she was listening to. On the right side of the road was a cut about 12-15 feet high. On top of the cut was a strip of grass about ten yards wide and then a very thick stand of trees. Just outside the trees was a huge buck...Easterners count the points on one side of the rack, westerners count both sides...this guy was an eastern 8 pointer, or a western 16. He was big and heavy looking, not a youngster at all. His ears were going, too. And his nose was twitching and it was plain that the four legged types were in some sort of trans-species communication.
A lot of folks go deer hunting on horse back in Missouri, the horse smell masks the human smell and they (the hunters) feel they can get closer to them (the huntees) that way. It was pretty plain that the deer didn't detect me because he just stood there without any trace of fear. He couldn't have been more than twenty yards away and like I said, about 15 feet uphill. I sat quietly watching this for several minutes. Then it dawned on me that this was cutting into my "me-time", so I said to Ginger, and the buck , too, I guess, "Okay, gang, that's enough of this..." I never got all of that out. At the first sound of my voice, the buck bolted into the trees. This was a spectacular feat since his rack was wider than the gaps between most of the trees. But I didn't get much chance to appreciate his agility since at the exact same minute he bolted, Ginger leaped half way up the bank and in two strides was at full gallop towards the trees...she wanted to go with her buck, I guess. It was amazing how fast she covered those twenty yards and fifteen feet. It was more amazing that I was still mounted after she made that great leap. I feared I was way too late beginning my "turn the horse" or "stop the horse" maneuvers...there was no way we would fit into those trees without there being some damage. But good girl that she was, she squatted her butt down into that dramatic sliding stop quarterhorses are famous for.( and I could never get her to do again) and pulled us up short of the trees with inches to spare. The rest of the ride was anti-climactic...she just wasn't into it. She really liked that buck.
Ginger liked cats, she loved watermelon, she liked running up the hill, she liked our Saturday mornings...but she REALLY loved deer...and I think she had a thing for that one buck.