Red Dog asks: What’s a horse?

Red Dog Smith lives with Mrs. Smith and me near a state park in Colorado, a short walk from the Colorado River and a recreational trail that runs alongside it. Curious as a young child, he asks a lot of questions, at least when just the two of us are out for a walk.

He noticed this morning that what he surmised was a bigger dog – because a lot of four-legged creatures are bigger than he is – had pooped a lot of poop right on the concrete trail between our place and Corn Lake.

He looked at me with those big brown eyes. “When I take a dump, why do we always have to stop and pick it up and take it with us?”

Red Dog on the trail by Corn Lake

“Good question, Red,” I told him. “If everyone just left it lying around, the world would be way more stinky and unpleasant than it is and people would be stepping in poop all the time and swearing a lot more.”

“So why didn’t someone pick up all that dog poop?”

Another great question, and a learning opportunity. “Well, first of all Red, I don’t know. And that isn’t actually dog poop. It’s what we refer to as horseshit. In other words, it’s poop that comes from a horse.”

He nodded, letting that sink in a bit. “So why didn’t someone pick up the horseshit and put it in a bag?”

I’d been wondering the same thing. You don’t mind too much when a cow gets loose and leaves a pie or two along a gravel road out in the middle of nowhere, or even when a horse leaves a little horseshit off the edge of the trail.

“You know, Red, I guess some people forget to bring a poop bag along now and then, and some people just don’t care enough to pick up after their own dog. So I suppose some people who have horses forget to bring bags or don’t care enough about keeping things nice to pick up after their own horse. You’d think they could at least scrape it off the feckin trail.”

“It’s one of those ‘life’s mysteries’ you told me about, right?”

“Exactly,” I said, pleased to know he’d been paying attention a few weeks ago.

He nodded and turned to move along, pulling a bit on the leash before coming to a sudden stop next to the nearest pile.

“What’s a horse?” he asked.

Questions, questions, questions. “Later, Red,” I said. “I’ll show you some pictures.”


If your own dog has questions, please share them here and we’ll do our best to answer them.

B.J.

A chasmic day off

Taking a Friday off to explore our new stomping grounds is always a good idea. Even better when the weather is fine.

Paonia was a few miles off the map-app-recommended route to the Black Canyon, but what the heck. We had a nice early lunch and came back later to taste some wines.

We had talked about checking out the north rim of Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park since visiting the south rim last year. You can see across the canyon, of course, but there’s nothing quite like being on the other side.

The trail we’d planned to hike to Exclamation Point was muddy enough from recent snowmelt that we decided to check out the Chasm View loop instead. The punctuation will surely still be there next time, and the loop was nearby and mostly dry.

As we’ve now seen first-hand, the view is awe-inspiring from both sides as you peer over the edge to see the river 2,000 and some feet below.

The chasmic view.

There is much more to explore and learn about out here away from the madding crowd.

B.J.

Quail on the trail

They crossed the trail
in such a rush
the picture left
was just the brush.

Big dirty thing in Colorado

Since our almost-5-year-old granddaughter visited us not long ago, I’ve gotten more and more curious about what to call a rather prominent area landmark. Most of us know it as Mt. Garfield, which was named for the president who was assassinated back in the day.

Farther back in the day? I don’t know what it was called. My searches have come up empty so far, but I did learn about two hiking trails that will lead me to the summit.

Image by Gary Eichin from Pixabay

No disrespect to President Garfield, may he RIP as one hopes he has done since 1881, but I would rather call it by whatever name indigenous people called the mountain.

In the meantime, I’m going to go with what my granddaughter called it: a Big Dirty Thing.

That will work for a while – maybe BDT, for short – even though we have quite a few other BDTs here in Mesa County.

If you know what that BDT was called way back when, please let me know.

B.J.

Dogs and old men on a Colorado trail

Red Dog Smith and I ventured out of the office late this morning for a walk down to the river. Mrs. Smith was out hiking with some friends after ignoring my sage advice to always have a pocket knife when hiking. Who doesn’t carry a pocket knife into the wild?

Red Dog on a Colorado trail.
Red Dog on a Colorado trail

Anyhow, the river isn’t far, and we got all the short way there without seeing another human being or another canine. We decided we are OK with having a trail completely to ourselves now and then.

On the way back, it got busy. We saw a total of three human beings – one walking his black Lab, two others going different directions on their bicycles.

To be more specific, we saw three elderly guys. All three had what some would call white hair, but I prefer to characterize as silver.

Sensing a pattern here?

Seeing three people in half an hour or so is what passes for busy in our rocky little chunk of Mesa County.

We also saw:

Two quick-footed lizards.

Butterflies.

Contrails criss-crossing the clear blue sky.

An enormous flat-topped mountain to the east of us.

On the way back, almost at the front door, I realized I have become some guy who writes about his lunch break now and then. I am OK with that. Red doesn’t seem to care.