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It was a beautiful afternoon when I got home from work today. A stray calf had ventured onto our place, so my wife suggested we take the Mule over to check it out. Since the drought started earlier this summer, the lake level has continued to drop and the shore line draws away from the fences that are supposed to extend into the lake. Cows, horses, and even kids can go around fences when the exposed mud gets dry enough.

With Duke, Coty, and Louie running ahead, my wife and I drove across the dam and up to the top gate. One of our new paths follows the old Morman trail to the bottom of the hill. It is a pretty drive through the timber. We came out into the pasture and checked the fence. Only minor adjustments were needed on the fence and Duke had a wonderful time returning the wayward calf to his proper pasture. The sight of an enormous dog that was as big as he was, bounding toward him, convinced the calf to go home with no discussion.

We took another trail back, stopped to visit the horses, and enjoyed the unusually bright fall colors. A big bodied buck with just a small set of antlers and a doe ran down the hill from us as we approached the top gate. It was there my wife suggested we take the trail along the edge of the lake she and our grandson, Zane have been riding. I thought if she had been traveling this trail, it could not be too bad. I readily agreed. She took the wheel and drove past the cabin, to the edge of the lake, and turned left. Fifteen to twenty feet of shoreline had been exposed making a sound looking mudflat road. I noticed tracks in places where the Mule had sunk in a bit, but most of the trail looked sound. I turned to say something to my wife when the dry appearing crust broke and we suddenly sunk into the mud. We were up to the frame and the trip had come to a sudden end.

I really did not expect my wife's reaction. She was terribly upset she had gotten us stuck. There was no explaining to her, she did not know what stuck was. Being in the mud a quarter of a mile from home is not a major problem. It does not even rank on the scale of memorable time of being stuck. I know all about being stuck.

There was the time I drove the tractor onto a tree stump so both back tires were off the ground. I had to walk a mile to get a chain saw, lay on my back in tall weeds and saw the stump off until the wheels would touch the ground. That is stuck.

There was the time I drove a four wheel drive pickup into a marsh exactly forty-seven miles from nowhere in the Colorado Rockies with nothing more than an ax and a handyman jack to get me out. That is really stuck.

I once jumped my horse halfway over a fallen tree in a ditch. He was high centered and had to wait that way while I walked a mile and a half to get a chainsaw to cut him out of the tree. That is stuck and causes your horse to no longer trust your judgement.

I walked back to the house, got the tractor and tow rope. I drove back, pulled her out, and that was the extent of the drama. As she gains experience in the outdoors, I am sure she will learn what it is to truly loose one's means of transportation. At this stage of her outdoors experience, she doesn't know stuck.[[In-content Ad]]

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