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   Years ago, when we first bought the farm, it was a rather wild and woolly patchwork of timber interspersed with open pasture. We ran cattle on the place and started the original trails as a means of getting from one point to another when checking the cows. The boys and I would carry hatchets with us as we rode our horses through the timber, knocking off low hanging branches and clearing brush. Not only did it make our ride easier, the cows, deer, and everything else that lives in the area started using our trails. This helped to keep the trails open and navigable. Checking cows became a fun ride rather than a chore. There were times when we would invite people to bring their horses and go for a leisurely ride through the timber on a Sunday afternoon. On one of these rides, a friend, Swede, brought his mule to join the group of horse riders. With a fair amount of good-natured ribbing about having a mule, and Swede assuring us that riding a mule was better and safer than riding a horse, we headed out. There were a few places along the several miles of trails that were a bit precarious. One place, the trail followed steep creek bank and curved around a large oak tree. As Swede’s mule rounded the tree, the ground gave way sending both the mule and Swede tumbling down the bank and into the creek below. The rest of the group were all pleasantly surprised to see him and his mule get up unscathed. We did have a good time pointing out the mule’s lack of sure-footedness almost killed them both. Needless to say, the riders behind the unfortunate pair forged a new path to the inside of the big oak tree.

   Another time, one of the riders decided to take a shortcut  across the end of the lake. From the edge, it appeared the water was only a foot or two deep and about twenty feet wide. The horse was not shy of water so when encouraged to do so, stepped in. The horse and rider quickly disappeared. The water was closer to ten feet deep with a steep drop off. The soggy pair popped up and swan to the other shore. After seeing the quick dunking, nobody in the trail ride followed.

   Since those days, my son, Damon, and grandson, Zane, took up riding dirt bikes.  At first, I thought the sounds of motorcycles would scare the deer and turkeys away from the area. In reality, it does not seem to bother them at all. With younger and more energetic workers on the job, the trail system has expanded and improved. With much determination, they have made trails where a horse was unable to go. Many of those trails have been widened to accommodate a side-by-side so my wife and I can ride around places that used to be only accessible on foot.

   Yesterday, my wife and I took a long ride through some of the newer trails she had not been on. There are only a few places where a person must be careful not to fall off the cliff or roll the vehicle end over end. She does get a bit nervous in these places and has been known to call me bad names for getting into these situations. In one area where we stopped for a break, she was completely lost. I assured her that she was not the first person to be lost in there. More than one hunter has, in the past, wandered around for quite a while before finding their way out. For the most part, we had a fun ride on the new trails and the deer have better paths to get around.

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