ozma914 | Entries tagged with pokagon state park

Emily's going back to work (I mean, other than editing our books), with the Pokagon Saddle Barn opening up Easter weekend--and every weekend until Memorial Day, when they'll go all week long.

They feature trail rides, which are, well, rides ... on trails. On horses. Keep up.

Although Pokagon is a State Park, the saddle barns are contracted--so they're one of those many small businesses who could use your support in this time of pandemics and such. Last year they didn't open at all until Memorial Day weekend, and had very little advanced notice to get ready. Hopefully things will go more smoothly this year.

Last year I caught Beowulf trading racing tips with some of the Pokagon steeds. What with them not being human, I'm not sure it was illegal.

It's just another sign that spring is here. And boy, this past winter was a particularly long one, wasn't it?

May all your trails be happy ones.

As for me, I just finished polishing a novel that involves state parks, horses, and dogs (and murder, but never mind), and the Pokagon Saddle Barn is certainly one place that gave me inspiration for it. Hopefully I can use it to inspire a literary agent to take me on, or at least get a trail ride.

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I have a feeling you wouldn't want to be in this car when the driver's dodging potholes.

Guess I should have waited to post this until May Fourth ... but I've been holding on to it since last summer, and with the recent weather I'm getting a new hope that summer might actually get here again.

http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

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In this month's newsletter we discuss tired dogs, almost-horses, fire photos, summer, and the health risks of competitive clogging:

https://mailchi.mp/956dcca14183/summer-and-new-projects-loom?e=2b1e842057

Did I mention summer? I'd be so much happier with its arrival if it actually stuck around for more than a few days. Heck, I'm still waiting for Spring to arrive--apparently I blinked.

Still, any season with flowers is better than a season without them.

This one has somehow survived all my lawn care efforts for decades. I don't know how.

http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

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Only four days left to help the Pokagon Saddle Barn pay their expenses in this year of coronavirus ... but, of course, it's always a good time to buy a t-shirt.

https://www.customink.com/fundraising/pokagon-saddle-barn

Due to the Covid-19 epidemic, the Saddle Barn is opening late this year--the mandated target is May 24th, and then they can only run at half capacity for an unknown period of time. As I explained in a previous blog, while it's inside Pokagon State Park, the Saddle Barn itself is an independent small business that could really use your support:

https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/2020/05/support-your-local-saddle-barn.html

"Dinner Time!"

The horses are around whether they're being ridden or not--and ask any horse person how much that costs! So buy yourself a t-shirt and support a good cause.

My grandmother loves the horses--and they love her.

Hey! I don't think he's feeling well: He's a little horse.

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Like many small businesses in the time of Covid-19, things are a little tough for the Pokagon State Park Saddle Barn this year. (Yes, it’s inside a state park, but the Saddle Barn itself is a private business.) At this point they do plan to open sometime close to Memorial Day weekend (I’ll get back to you on the exact day), but they’ll only be able to work at half capacity and will have comply with Indiana's Covid-19 guidelines. Ordinarily they open for weekends in March, then go seven days a week starting Memorial Day.

"Let's ride!"

So here’s an idea to support a local business—you can buy your own Pokagon Saddle Barn t-shirt:

https://www.customink.com/fundraising/pokagon-saddle-barn

Emily leads a trail ride.

I know it’s cool, and you can buy your own, or at least donate to the cause. Like many businesses of the equestrian variety (it's a real word, I looked it up), the people who work at the Saddle Barn love horses. I should know: My wife is one of them. But the horses don't just go into suspended animation between seasons. They’re living beings who need food, veterinary care, medicine, pasture space, and of course insurance—all year round. That's the short list.

Emily loves her job, even on cold days. Although the cold isn't great.

This year they need a little extra support.

The funds raised will go to Deena Coleman, the business owner, so she can keep all the horses and be ready for when things get a bit more back to normal. She's been running the barn for over 30 years, and hasn't raised prices in at least 10. So please, get yourself a shirt! That’s what friends are for.

Our dog Beowulf, wondering how that other dog got so big.

Yes, they do love their job, even first thing in the morning.

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When I was a kid I loved my tricycle ... something tells me I'd like this one, too.

I took these photos at Pokagon State Park a couple of years ago. I've seen it, or its twin, here and there since then, but they don't seem to have taken off. I mean, figuratively taken off. It doesn't really seem to be the kind of vehicle for northern Indiana weather.

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TURTLE, TURTLE

Earlier this summer, as I entered Pokagon State Park, I spotted a turtle making it's slow way across the road.

There was a car coming the other way, but the turtle was about to the center line and looked safe from it. I shifted into park, got out, and ran up to the turtle since, as you know, it takes them about ten days to cross two lanes.

When I reached down, the turtle scampered away like a rabbit with its tail on fire.

Not this one, although it was also at Pokagon.

I had no idea they could move that fast. All I had to do was keep stepping behind it, and it made its way to the far side in a matter of seconds. On the way back to the car, I noticed the guy driving the other way looked just as surprised as I was.

A few days later Emily encountered a snapping turtle, and had a similar experience in that it whirled around so fast she couldn't get it off the highway, for fear of losing fingers. Some neighbors who apparently had been there before brought down a broom and trash can, and successfully moved it out of harm's way.

Not this one either, but they were both plenty annoyed with me.

DON'T BE CATTY

We have a compost pile in our back yard, held together by some old wooden pallets. It's a good way to take scraps of food and other suitable garbage, mix it with grass clipping and leaves, and end up with some nice, usable soil. Granted that I haven't had time to plant a garden in some years, but if nothing else maybe I can use it as a base to try and grow some grass in the front yard, assuming I trim those thick shade trees first.

There's always something.

Cats, on the other hand, know how to relax. In fact, when I went out back to mow the lawn I saw a small black bundle on top of the compost, which I at first took to be a dead cat. I got within a few feet of it before realizing it was just sleeping.

It was a cool morning, and the decomposing products in compost, along with a layer of leaves over top, apparently gave the little feline a warm and comfy place for a nap. I was trying to quietly turn on my camera's phone when it stretched, turned its sleepy face around, and splotted me.

The only thing I saw after that was a black streak, for the space of maybe half a second, before it disappeared around the corner.

It's probably for the best that I saw it, instead of it being discovered by our dog, who has a faster reaction time and doesn't bother taking pictures.

This is not a cat. But I photographed it before running for my life, and I had to use the picture for something.

FLYING HIGH--I MEAN, LOW--AND PROUD

A few weeks ago Emily and I drove down to Missouri. Part of that trip is down the length of southern Illinois, on the four lane interstate 57. Toward the south it gets hilly and picturesque, just as Indiana does, but closer to the center of the state it can be a bit of a bland drive. Picture I-70 west of Indianapolis, only with less corn.

So when a large bird flew down low over the highway, it caught my attention. It was being chased by a much smaller bird, something I've seen often that's (I assume) related to nest stealing. Usually the larger bird is a hawk, or buzzard.

In this case it came down extra low, and took a turn just over the highway, in the same direction we were traveling. For just a moment, it was almost still in relation to our car, just thirty feet or so away.

It was a bald eagle.

This is what Ben Franklin wanted as our national symbol. Thanksgiving wouldn't be the same, fighting over an eagle leg.

They're more common now than they used to be, but still not very common; when I was a kid they were practically unheard of. But there it was, right in front of us (no, I didn't take a picture--I was driving). Emily and I squeed and maybe I peed a little, and had something to talk about until we got further down and started seeing the Mississippi River area flooding.

It was a bald eagle, people. Right in front of us. And I don't want to make it sound like I'm just a fanboy, and maybe it was a small thing, but it was really neat.

I think sometimes we don't take the time to realize just how neat the little things can be. We get to thinking something's not worth seeing unless its had a few million dollars worth of CGI work put into it. We don't even bother looking up from our phones anymore. We're bringing up a whole generation of people who don't get how truly cool it is to see those first blooming flowers of spring, bringing color back to the world.

Check out those rainbows, people. Study the stars. Our universe is a miracle.

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Thanks to everyone who read, and especially commented on, my post on the 50 Authors From 50 States blog! As for the giveaway, I didn't have a hat, so I made each commenter a slip of paper and mixed them up in ... an extra large coffee cup.

A coworker, who was very happy there was no actual coffee in the cup, then pulled out the name of William Kendall, who wins a free book! And no, that's not as cool as a free car, but I don't sell cars.

As for those who read the blog, Annette Snyder sent me a list that shows 176 visitors from the USA. But here's a surprise: The next highest number of visitors were from Ireland! No, I don't know why. After that came France and Germany, then "Unknown Region", which I think is one of the former Soviet republics. On a related note, there were also visitors from Russia, as well as the Ukraine, United Kingdom, and--as might be expected--Canada.

Otherwise there's not much to report. Emily is busy scanning and adjusting photos for our Albion Fire Department photo book project, while I've been working on the rough draft of a humor collection, under the working title of Still Slightly Off the Mark. It will be based on humor columns I wrote for the newspaper between 2000 and 2002, and rereading them for revision has made me realize just how much has changed since then.

Spring is springing--more or less--and we got a chance last week to go to the drive-in theater that was the inspiration for Coming Attractions. Shazam, was it fun!

On a related note, Emily is back with her horses at the Pokagon State Park Saddle Barn, although until Memorial Day they're only open on weekends.

All signs of spring ... yay! Hope you all get a chance to get outside and enjoy it, when weather permits. And, for those of you in the upper Midwest and Plains States ... I'm so sorry.

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If you can see this video ... well, I'll be very surprised, because my video uploading skills are suspect, to say the least.

"Would you like to go on a trail ride?" my wife asked in August.

(Yeah, I know. It's taken me this long to recover from the emotional trauma enough to write about it.)

Do you remember those people on the tourist boat in Hawaii, who got hit by lava when the volcano exploded? It was like that. "Would you like to go on a boat ride? The view is great!" Oh, I'm sure they got an impressive view, indeed, especially during the medivac helicopter ride to the hospital.

This is Cheyenne. Cheyenne is ... shy. She tends to keep her head down in a good Eeyore impression.

My wife, Emily, works at the Pokagon State Park saddle barn which, as you might imagine, is at Pokagon State Park, in northeast Indiana. It's one of those "they don't have to pay you as much because you love your job" kind of things, like being a radio DJ, or writing. One of her fringe benefits is that, if the hourly ride isn't sold out and there's a horse available, she can bring her husband along on a ride.

At no point while writing that policy did anyone consider whether the husband wanted to go.

I've been on about half a dozen trail rides now, so I'm better at it than when I began. The first time, my horse saw some nice grass off in the woods and wandered off, and they found me three days later, still unconscious from the tree limb. Okay, I exaggerate--slightly. The truth is, those horses wouldn't stray far from their routine trail even if you let them go.

But I hadn't been on a ride since early last year and ... how can I say this and still maintain my self-respect? Okay, there's no way: I'm out of shape. I haven't been trail hiking as much as usual due to writing chores, and the muscle stretches the chiropractor gave me to do only work, it turns out, if you actually do them.

That's Emily all the way up in front, in the hat. If she looks particularly alert right there, it's because we'd just seen a coyote standing in the trail ahead of us.

But that's no problem, because all you have to do is ride, right? You horse people, you're laughing right now. Well, first you have to get on the horse, which involves putting your foot into a stirrup, which is fine except the stirrup is at the level of your chest. I haven't been able to lift my foot to chest level since I was eighteen. Hah! Kidding--I couldn't then, either.

Then you have to swing your other foot over the horse which, I think, is when something happened. I didn't notice it at the time, because I was busy noticing how very high up above the ground I was. The words "head" and "melon" were intertwining in my mind right then.

On the first leg of our 45 minute trip, a coyote casually walked out onto the trail, right in front of us. He looked over our way, and I expected him to say, "Have you seen a road runner go by lately?" But what he actually said was, "If Mark Hunter falls off the horse, can I have him? I spent all my food money on an Acme brand anvil."

Well, that's the predator vibe I was getting from him, anyway.

The thing is, riding a horse involves an entirely different set of muscles compared to my favorite exercise, which is hiking, which is way closer to the ground. (Usually.) And no, you don't just sit: You have to kind of ... hug the horse with your legs, and keep a good posture, which I haven't done since ... well, ever. It makes you appreciate how fit porn actors must be.

It really was a nice ride, and beautiful scenery, except for when the horse ahead of me had to relieve himself.

I expected to be sore the next day. But as I climbed down after a scenic and uneventful ride, something felt ... off.

I'd pulled a horse riding muscle.

I didn't even know there was a thing. It's very low on your back, on each side, or maybe very high on your hip, or--let's face it, it's a butt muscle. I suspect it happened when I climbed on board, but at the time I was too terrified to notice. Yeah, I've done this six times now, but I've also seen all those YouTube videos entitled "Riding Gone Wrong".

Also, I once personally saw someone fall of a horse. They didn't get up fast.

But there was an upside. I'd been reading the second novel in George R.R. Martin's Game of Throne series, and those books are thicker than the Federal budget. Once the pain killers kicked in and I was settled on the couch, I got in some great reading time.

Maybe I'll even ride a horse again. Next year.

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The saddle barn up at Pokagon State Park is still open on weekends after Labor Day, usually until the weekend of Halloween (depending on the weather). But for some reason a lot of people don't know that, and since it's where my wife works:

The Pokagon Saddle Barn is still open on weekends after Labor Day. There. The first trail ride leaves at 10 a.m., and the last at 5 p.m. When you consider they start setting up an hour early, and have to put everything away after the last ride returns, that makes for a long day.

Earlier this summer I had the opportunity to take a few photos while everyone was opening up the barn for the morning. Not to worry: I was on the not-getting-stomped-on side of the fence:

When the gate is opened in the morning, some of the horses come running.

Some of them kind of just ... hang out.

In fact, if you look at this photo carefully you can see Emily way off toward the back of the pasture, where she had to go chase a few of the horses down to the gate.


And here Emily has caught up with one. Don't let the size difference fool you: The horse knows who's really in charge.

Emily's boss was also there that morning, wrestling the horses into submission. And no, I'm not exaggerating.

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A South Bend radio station has done a profile of Pokagon State Park in northeast Indiana:

http://www.wndu.com/content/news/One-Tank-Trips-Pokagon-State-Park-488533701.html

Part of their profile includes the Pokagon Saddle Barn, where my wife works. She's only on screen briefly: She's the woman in the cowboy hat saying "My name is Emily, but if you forget you can call me Horse Lady". I think I'm going to call her Horse Lady from now on!

In this photo (which I took while trying not to fall of a horse myself) Horse Lady is in front, looking around for the coyote that just crossed the trail.

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Deer are so common in Indiana that sometimes we forget they were once wiped out in the state. Now they're back, wiping out cars instead, so you really don't have to try to hard to see some. Still, seeing them up close doesn't happen too often, unless it's in that instant when you stand on your brake and yell, "Oh, crap".

Earlier this year I was hiking on trail 9 at Pokagon State Park. Trail 9 is the one marked "rugged" ... which is a relative thing, as I've been on more rugged trails in other parks, but it's still a bit of a challenge. I was on a ridge, wishing for an excuse to stop and catch my breath, when I saw two deer standing on the next ridge over.

Sadly I didn't have my camera with me, but I did have my cell phone in case I needed to call in an ambulance to haul me out of there. It turns out those things have cameras on them. Who knew? So I stood there as still as I could, zoomed all the way in, and tried to get a decent photo of them before they ran off, which one soon did.

Then a strange thing happened.

The second one decided if I was checking her out, it was only fair that she check me out. So she got closer ...

And closer ....

And we ended up in a staring contest, only about 25-30 feet from each other.

Hoping to seem less threatening, I tried to crouch down. It was probably all the creaking bones and cracking joints that scared her off, and last time I saw her, she was standing with the other one on the same ridge where they started.

You can see deer close up at various places, but there's something about standing in the open and going nose to nose with an animal just as curious about me as I was about it. It was, in other words, very cool.

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I've been feeling crappy the last several days: either an oncoming summer cold or a bad allergy attack (and/or lack of sleep). Considering all the dust and the white cottony stuff floating around outside, I'm thinking allergies, so I should stay inside rather than hiking around. But I had a bout of sleeplessness and hit the trails at Pokagon State Park; 3.6 miles later, I can say no one ever accused me of doing the smart thing.

What am I allergic to? According to the allergy doctor, everything that can be found in nature.

Except water. I'm not allergic to water ... or maybe they didn't test me for that?

And now, with apologize to Robert Frost:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

And both smelled kind of musty

My nose asked me if I should

Go down something so dusty;

I shall be telling this with a sneeze

My nostrils full of mold

I took the road more allergen

It's worse than any cold.

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Stop! I know how much I'd like people not to show me photos of spiders, so I'm begging you to go no further if you hate photos of snakes.


No, no -- this is just the rabbit that lives in our back yard and tortures our dog. Last chance before reaching snakes.

'Cause here are some photos of snakes. Specifically, to remind you warm weather is not all good, here are photos of snakes I stumbled upon (almost literally) at Pokagon State Park near Angola. I should add that, considering how much time I've spent up there the last few summers, seeing only two is actually a pretty good average for you snake haters.

This little fella really wasn't all that little. He was on a walkway over a swampy area last year, and as I approached he didn't move. So I took a photo and got closer, and he still didn't move. So I took this photo and got a little closer, and he still didn't move. So I went back the way I came. I figure it's his neighborhood way more than it's mine.

This little guy really was kind of little. I suspect he was a teenager, as teenagers sometimes like to pull pranks. In this case, our friend the garter snake staked out a place in the middle of that little concrete pad right in front of an outhouse door. So if you're a human going to the bathroom, you have to go past a little wooden wall, turn a sharp corner, and BOO!

Oddly enough, he didn't really scare me, but he did almost get stepped on, which would have taught him a lesson in how pranks can backfire. I assure you, if it had been a spider a third of that size I'd have left a Mark-shaped hole in the wall, in whichever direction I happened to be pointed at the time.

I'll see if I can get you some flower photos next time.

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While walking back to the Spring Shelter at Pokagon State Park, I encountered my wife with a fella named Fred. Good thing too, because I would have made a wrong turn if she hadn't pointed the way, and the right way was still a half mile hike. Fred is the saddle barn's only mule:

That photo posted on Instagram at the time, but for some reason Blogger has never updated its app, and it usually crashes when I try to post from my phone (although a previous post I thought didn't go actually posted twice).

I'd planned to work out of the car while she was on the job (I'm revising Beowulf: In Harm's Way). But it was a beautiful day, so I decided to walk the to the Spring Shelter even though I'd already hiked almost four miles earlier in the day. It's in a wooded area along the saddle trail and usually quiet, except for the people who go there with empty containers, for the spring water. They've quite literally piped it right out of the ground.

Since I was carrying a leather case with my laptop, iPad, and my ancient iPod, I checked the weather forecast first: No rain predicted. Then I looked at the weather radar: No rain in the region. So I got there, laid my stuff out, and was engrossed in revisions about an hour later when big drops started falling on the keyboard

Just a brief shower to remind me I'm not in charge. And, after all, the Spring Shelter includes ... wait for it ... a shelter. At least I could see the clouds that were the source of my torment; and when I checked the radar, sure enough, there were the showers popping up. Not like last week, where it started raining on my while I mowed the lawn -- despite the fact that there wasn't a single cloud overhead.

Just goes to show, there's no such thing as a perfect writing spot.

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The Pokagon State Park Saddle Barn opened for business the first weekend of April, and Emily's first day back was that Sunday. The temperature was in the thirties when she got to work, but warmed up to close to sixty by the end of the day. (Her two days this weekend have been in much nicer weather.)

It was her first chance in months to see the horses, and they were glad to see her!

I don't think they cared so much about me one way or another, but apparently they're shedding, so they were happy enough when I scratched some necks.

Meanwhile, confession: It was the first time since our car accident in September that I walked more than a mile at a time. I made about 2.6 miles, mostly on the bike trail, which is easy going. But I did hit a trail along the way and even went off-trail a little--while I still could, before the foliage fills out and blocks cross country travel. My only complications were a little ankle pain and a sore back.

Not that the trails themselves didn't have complications:

Over the winter it was windier than election season. Emily says there were a couple of small trees across the horse trail, although they didn't present a serious problem. This one was high enough that it would have held them up. I vaulted it, which was a remarkably dumb thing for someone in my shape to do in the middle of nowhere.

There was one across the bike trail, too. I'd imagine the park employees will have everything cleaned up in short order--we could see a lot of places where fallen trees had already been cut up and moved.

No idea who the gentleman in the distance is; I didn't notice he was there until after I took the picture. I wonder if he said cheese? The good news is, people are already out and about, enjoying weather that, if not great, is at least better. The bad news is, my allergies are already acting up.

But that's okay, because I love green ... and the green is coming along:

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If you’re going to spend the day proofreading (it is called a proof copy, after all), why not do it at a picnic table in Pokagon State Park?

It worked out great for me. But for the dog, well … we had a walking path on one side, and more picnic areas on the other side—it was way too distracting for Bae. He didn’t get any work done at all.

I only found four mistakes, and there’s a little work to do on the back cover—not too shabby.

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Sunday was Emily's first day back on the job at the Pokagon saddle barn for the season! Okay, that's not Emily, but still.

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I wrote about three thousand words on a short story during my “writer’s retreat” at Pokagon State Park yesterday. The real reason for me being there is for a later time, but it was perfect weather for hanging around outside. At Pokagon you can do that at a picnic table, on the beach, in isolated spots or public shelters, or just sitting in the car looking over the scenery.

I’d planned to work on my new book project, which I’ll also explain at a later time, but I hadn’t gotten the research sources around for it and didn’t have internet (which is one of the reasons why it’s good for writing). Instead I started on a story idea that came to me while I was mowing the lawn. Nice weather is clearly good for my creative juices.

There was also a 45 minute walk and a short nap in the car, and they were probably both good for me. I might have to do some cutting later; at 3,500 words and only two thirds done, “short” story is just as expression.

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Slightly Off the Mark

Happy Spring Trails to You

Ford ... Falcon?

This month's newsletter: Furry Friends and Fire Photos

Your Shirt Buys a Hay Bale

Support Your Local Saddle Barn

A ... carmocycle?

Animal stories

Mixing Blog Winners In a Coffee Cup

Pulling The Horse Muscle, or Break In the Saddle Again

Horsing Around at the Pokagon Saddle Barn

Wave your cowboy hat at my better half

A South Bend radio station has done a profile of Pokagon State Park in northeast Indiana:

The Fearless Deer of Pokagon

Germs or motes? Waiting for the Frost

Snakes On a Blog

The Perfect Writing Spot, or: Mules, Spring Shelters, and Space Opera

Back to the Saddle Barn ... and the hiking trails

Shhhh … I found bugs in my office

Back on the horse

Sometimes Writers Should Retreat

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