Slightly Off the Mark: state parks

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Avoiding the Kick Zone

Emily works at a saddle barn, guiding trails at Pokagon State Park here in Indiana. Emily is, shall we say, height challenged. I don't believe it's PC to say "short" anymore. But one thing I've learned from watching her work is that she knows how to get much bigger animals to do what she wants.

She knows how to get me to do what she wants too, but at least I don't have to wear a bridal. Well, except that one time.

I've learned a lot about horses from talking to her and watching her work. Horses are even a large part of my mystery/humor/supernatural novel We Love Trouble, which I hope you all get to read someday. She'll have to be listed in the book as "technical consultant".

Did you stick your tongue out at me, young man? Um, young horse?

That's why I know about the Kick Zone.

If you walk behind a horse, you either want to be right behind it, or drop back about a mile and a half. If you're close, but far enough away that the horse can wind up for a kick, you might soon find yourself landing in a tree.

You don't want to be in the Kick Zone.

Earlier this year I drove to Pokagon to pick up Emily. It gave me a chance to introduce myself to the new mule, who Emily described as "rather large". The Saddle barn had two mules. Freddy, who had his own Facebook and Instagram accounts before he passed, was normal sized. for a mule. The other one I hadn't seen yet, but as I walked up to her I imagined what Freddy said at first sight:

"It's a giant! Mulezilla!"

That's Molly with Emily, and no, this is not a trick of perspective.

Molly is the tallest equine animal in the Midwest. Horses and mules are usually measured by hands, but Molly is eight legs tall. Petting her was like trying to put out a forest fire: It's hard to tell where to start. It takes Emily five steps to get into her saddle, with the first step involving the word "trampoline" and the last step being to put on a high-altitude oxygen mask.

I'm just sayin', big mule.

After we got to know each other, Emily untied Molly and led her toward the barn, past me, which is okay because I'm to her side as she goes by. But that was when something spooked her. The mule, I mean, not Emily. The animals know better than to pull away from Emily, but the plastic bag, or crunched leaf, or perceived insult made her swing her back side around until it was aimed at me. The mule, not Emily.

I was in the Kick Zone.

There's only one thing to do: Flee. I backpedaled, reaching approximately warp 9 in half a second. Even the USS Enterprise can't reach that speed by going backward, but I did. Of course, the Enterprise might accidentally back into the Klingons, and I'd hate to fill out that road rage report.

Directly behind me was the end of the hitching line. It was a plastic pipe, maybe four inches in diameter, with the end aimed right at the small of my back like a police battering ram. Only less fun.

Molly with the offending railing end.

I did not scream when I backed into it at Warp 9, which, as you'll remember, is very fast. I did say something, which I'll just code as "Klingon! Oh, Klingon!"

I said "Klingon" several times.

The moral of this story is "situational awareness". It's also that you should keep ibuprofen, ice, and that green stuff from the chiropractor close by at all times. The chiropractor should also be close by.

Molly never kicked. I suppose her mind was on whatever spooked her: a candy wrapper, a passing mosquito, maybe the realization that Lost will never make sense. The hitching post just laughed off the incident. I drove us home with no problems, although it took several people to pry me out of the car and carry me to the couch. I'm now working on the outline of a novel about evil hitching posts that attack the unwary, and I'm calling it "Post Ghosts". M. Night Shymalan already has the movie rights.

Yes, horses do appear in some of my books, specifically the Storm Chaser series. Find them all here:

· Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

· Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

· Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

· Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

· Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

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· Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

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· Substack: https://substack.com/@markrhunter

· Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914

· Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ozma914

· Audible: https://www.audible.com/search?searchAuthor=Mark+R.+Hunter&ref_pageloadid=4C1TS2KZGoOjloaJ&pf

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Bald Eagles at Salamonie Reservoir

Just a photo blog today. After we got my glasses repaired a few weeks ago (long story), we headed down to the Salamonie reservoir near Huntington, where we proceeded to drive around aimlessly for awhile. Well, not completely aimless--we were looking for bald eagles.

When I was a kid, a bald eagle was something you'd just heard of, and maybe seen on TV. But this time of year the Salamonie area is now teaming with them, if you're willing to go out into the cold to see. We were willing ... reluctantly.

We weren't sure exactly where they were being seen, until we stopped at an overlook near the top of the dam. Were those folks down there hauling around huge cameras for some mystical reason?

Yes. Yes, they were, and way better cameras than we had. But never mind that: There are lots of photos of bald eagles at Salamonie--we had binoculars too, and just wanted to see them for ourselves.

The place you want to go is where there's open water, because an eagle's gotta eat. Of course, a lot of water in the area was frozen, even waterfalls. Indiana's larges icicle. That brought us to the other side of the dam and the Salamonie River.

"Hey, Mark--what's that directly over your head?"

We walked past three ice fishermen who were ingesting some pretty good antifreeze, and I ventured over some frozen sandbars and ice to get a shot of this fellow, who couldn't care less. It was only when we came back that one of the fishermen pointed out there was another eagle directly across the river from them, no hazardous travel involved.

I think this is the best shot we got of any of them. We saw at least five bald eagles, one of them a juvenile who flew directly over our heads. Maybe more, or maybe we saw the same ones more than once as we tromped around the area.

It was a great day despite the weather. We didn't worry too much about disturbing the birds, because the three fishermen were being pretty vocal, and the bald eagle closest to them just didn't care. Maybe if they actually caught something he'd be more interested.

And finally, because we do like a little adventure, everywhere we went we encountered these signs:

We were right below the dam, after all. Luckily, no siren sounded. If one had, it would have been when I as inching my way across the ice, trying to get a clear shot of that waterfall. I'd imagine I would have looked hilarious, slipping and scrambling my way back, but those things are only funny if they aren't followed up by the words, "And they never found his body".

The eagle-eyed can find our books here: