We followed the trail through land once sprawling with orange groves.
"You can walk a horse into a lake," he said, "but there's just about nothing you can do to get him to walk through a mud puddle." I discovered fascinating things about my new friend _ which weeds she found the tastiest, and how her short neck hairs felt just like velvet.Īs we came to some mud puddles, I learned something else. "It's peaceful here."īy now Magic and I were becoming accustomed to one another. "This is why I could never get bored out here or get tired of doing this," he said. Barga said he has even seen the occasional wild pig.Īs a light mist sprinkled this particular morning, an owl, apparently working overtime, regarded us from his perch high in a pine.īarga seemed pleased, but not surprised, to see the predatory bird. In the decades since, thickets of oak and pine have grown into shady woods populated by deer, foxes, raccoons and other wildlife. After a short lesson on the three S's _ starting, steering and stopping _ we were off.Īs we rode, Barga gave a brief history of the ranch, including how the first part of the trail is an old railroad bed used by local lumber mills in the late 19th century. Before I knew it, I was up, over and mounted, worn leather reins firmly in hand. Magic seemed nice enough, but Barga didn't give me time to change my mind. Driving past horses at 45 mph never let me appreciate how big they are. He introduced me to Magic, a 4-year-old horse that was born on the ranch. But the outfit came with a friendly face, something I needed most just then.
Blue, a shaggy canine ranch hand with arctic eyes, greeted me at the front gate and led me toward rustic buildings, stables and an old wagon touting "Doc Peabody's Traveling Medicine Show."Īfter signing in, I met Ron Barga, my guide.
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