|
 It doesn’t really take much prompting to get ol’
Windy Wilson to start holding court on all things strange … not at
the Mule Barn truck stop. All it takes is someone slowing down
enough to listen to our aging camp cook. Someone accidentally said
the word “quail” and that was enough.
Now ol’ Horton lived ‘way up Lewis Crick from here, Windy said. Had
this old mule named Putner. Ol’ Putner got his name ‘cuz when he was
foaled, he putner died. But Horton trained Putner to do things
Horton liked to do. In fact, that’s the reason them two bird hunters
from the city drove over to Horton’s place that day. Opening day of
quail season, doncha see.
They was told ol’ Horton he had him a mule who could point quail,
and Horton says he sure as sugar does. He said he’d rent ol’ Putner
out to ‘em for ten dollars a day. Guaran-dog-teed him steady to wing
and shot, don’t you know.
So they gave him the ten bucks and Horton turned Putner loose and he
galloped around through the puckerbrush and then slammed into the
prettiest long-eared point you ever seen. Sure enough, he found them
a covey of quail, and when they shot the birds, ol’ Putner retrieved
them back to the hunters. Picked ‘em right up in his mouth just as
gentle as a marshmeller. [to top of second
column] |
Well, those ol’ boys had their
limits by lunch time and they couldn’t believe it. They took Putner
back to ol’ Horton and said they had to have him, and they didn’t
care how much it cost them.
Horton shook his head and said he couldn’t do ‘er. Nossir. Not for
any money.
Why not? Those hunters asked him.
Why boys, said Horton, it’s almost time for the salmon run, and
Putner would rather fish than hunt, any day.
[Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
Brought to
you by “Packing the Backyard Horse” by Slim Randles, now available
on Amazon.com.
|
