When I rolled into Thomas Knob shelter last night around 7:30 pm, there were a handful of wild ponies hanging out. By the dim and dusky light they appeared a little bit rough around the ears, but gave off a vibe that indicated that all of their troubles could be solved if only someone would be kind enough to share their dinner. (Bad idea.) I put my hand out for one to sniff, and was rewarded with a dirty, wet pony kiss. Bleech.
By the morning light, and alone, the ponies appeared slightly different. Instead of seeming to be curious beggars they were a wee bit more aggressive and mangey than I had noticed the night before, and at my most startled I mistook one for one of Hell's minions. I dare say that anyone who was born between 1975 and 1988 and has had absolutely no contact with ponies probably felt the same way I did: that once again the reality had been a disappointment compared to the idealism presented by toys (where were their sparkling ass tatoos?).
Over time, though, I warmed up to the wild ponies, and am sure glad I did. It was a wonderful day.
I am not sure if wild ponies are better than gray jays or not...
ReplyDeleteJust found your blog after a link from Dan & Katlin,
ReplyDeleteLove the posts and pictures, so beautiful, Please post any mail drops that are coming up in the next month, its nice to participate in a bit of trail magic from afar.