New Mexico

ust east of Gallup, New Mexico, we came to a small row of houses and farms. It was early on a Monday morning, so I was really amazed when around the next corner I heard a minister preaching in an open air church. As we rounded the bend in the road, the minister said, “These kids nowadays have no common sense, no horse sense.” Just as he said the words “horse sense” Willy let out a shrill whinny. Willy is not the most vocal of horses. In fact, that was the only time I ever heard him so much as nicker, other than maybe a snort of recognition at one of my other horses, March Along. So something special was happening here.

The sermon stopped and the whole congregation turned around and stared at us, passing only about 75 feet away on the road. I couldn’t help myself. I was laughing hysterically and pointing at Willy and shrugging my shoulders as if to say “he’s got a mind of his own.” I have to say his timing was impeccable. There wasn’t another horse in sight to make him whinny like that. He must have overheard the preacher and simply taken exception to that particular piece of the sermon. Willy was excellent company. .