The breeze lifted the eerie, beautiful sound to Panama’s ears. He halted, unsure. His nostrils flared, and every muscle was gathered. Should he run? Ears intently forward, his eyes peered into the rising sun.
Other sounds to his left captured his focus, he looked and whinnied. Two other horses and riders appeared by the large fir. Soothed and quieted by his rider, he turned and faced the canyon once again. Below on a grassy ledge, stood two more riders, their mounts as intent on the timbered covered valley wall across from them as Panama.
The sound seemed to bounce along, echoed and repeated through the trees. Different voices gave a harmony of sorts, higher pitched younger voices were met with the deeper bass bugles of older bulls. Grunts were thrown into the mix, deep and vibrant. This was the call of the wapiti; bugles, squeals, and grunts.
“Look at me.”
“Come challenge me.”
“Ladies, watch this…”
Panama felt reassured when Punch appeared by his side. Maybe he wouldn’t have to run away after all, another horse made all the difference. The riders talked. The elks bugled.
He relaxed and listened… what was the word his rider said? Magical? Eh, maybe he could believe that… as another bugle sliced through the evergreens, and bounced down along the canyon walls in the early morning light.
September 18, 2011 Futile Fertility
September 18, 2010 Rah Rah
September 18, 2009 Black Dog
September 18, 2008 No entry.
