Mount Birdsuvius and the Snot Rocketed Mesquite Bean

by Kevin on December 7, 2011

Everything seemed to be going fine, but in my moment of comfort, there was a lingering storm waiting to be unleashed. That moment came on the wings of a seemingly harmless little bird called the Blue Quail.

I rocked up and down, posting with the up and down movement of a little sorrel colt that I had been riding for a few days. Out in the pasture, we weaved through the West Texas mesquite. Gentle leg pressure was applied on different sides as I sought to teach this little four-legged jackhammer to give to the pressure as we rounded and circled through the mesquite.

My goal was to become a better rider as well as teach this young horse how to carry a cowboy. We wound around yet another big tree (that big bush was as close to a “tree” as we had in West Texas) when all of a sudden, I found my horse and I in the middle of a land mine of feathers and flight.

Disturbed by our sudden appearance, the covey of Blue Quail erupted like Mount Birdsuvius, with little difference in shock and awe from their volcanic imitation.

The crazy thing was, I found that my horse also knew how to erupt. Although they were unseen, my colt seemed to have found wings of its own, lifting off the ground, seeking to join the covey in flight.

Higher and higher we climbed. Oxbows that should have been attached to cowboy boots, spread out like wings, encumbered no longer by any weight whatsoever. Daylight manifested itself like the risin’ of a new day between wrangler pockets and the saddle seat in which they belonged.

You’d think that a 4-1/2” brim cowboy hat would act somewhat like a parachute, but it doesn’t. My four-legged friend had graciously lifted me high in the air, only to leave me there like a baby thrown in the air by a rambunctious father. Luckily, the separation was short lived as the colt hit the ground and then came back up to meet me.

The extent of my vision was now compressed to lookin’ through my belly button as my body was shoved up through my head. I don’t think the headless horseman was really without his noggin’. He had just been re-arranged by a bronc on what must have been a similar circumstance.

I resembled the red ball, attached by a stretchy string, pounding up and down in the hands of Governor Le Petomane (subtle Blazing Saddles reference there). Sometimes getting bucked off isn’t the worst feeling in the world.

Upon landing on the ground, surrounded by the remnant footprints of approximately twelve Blue Quail, I tried to pop my head out of my midsection into its rightful, God intended location. My oxbow-winged colt continued to attempt lift off in the general direction the birds had flown.

“You’re gettin’ pretty good at ridin’ buckin’ horses,” a voice said from behind me.

I didn’t turn around to look at Ralph when I said, “Yeah. Right.”

How the mesquite bean got lodged in my left nostril I’ll never understand, but I excavated it like a world record snot rocket and then looked at Ralph as he sat smiling on his horse.

“It’s ironic,” he said, “that in order to become a good rider, you have to fall off so many times. To become a good roper, you have to throw a lot of misses. It’s usually the opposite of what you want to accomplish that makes you what you want to be.”

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die;” John11:25

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  • I’ve never fell mercy to a covey of blue quail, but I have had horses spook at the sight of a new piece of farm equipment or some other surprise. I love the truth in your friend’s statement. I guess true life is found in dying to ourselves, just like good riding comes by falling off. Great thoughts, my friend!

    • Kevin

      It’s the age old conundrum wrapped in an enigma…or as cowboy often confuse, the age old corn-drum wrapped in an enema.

      To live, you have to die to self. To be free, you must become a slave of living right. To be rid of hate, you must love.

      Thanks for stoppin’ by Jason. God bless ya amigo.

  • Don Coyote

    Hahahahahahahaaaaaa…Snot Rocketed Mesquite Bean…hahahahahahahaaaaaaa

    • Kevin

      Don’t snot rocket your coffee amigo. lol

      • Don Coyote

        Too late…

  • Paul Weatherby

    I can see Ralph grinning and sure understand his moral support. Let’s here some more “wrecks” from everyone.
    How about a long lope around the outside and run up on a bobcat caught by his front foot while riding “ole Paint”?
    How about a long trot down the fenceline on the Rocker B on “Red” and coming up on a turkey hung in the net wire.
    How about six bucking horses in a gooseneck trailer headed for Red House Pasture with a 6 point Buck caught on the side of the trailer after trying to jump it at 5:30 AM.
    How about loping into a nest of javelinas on “Sikes” who only knew to go one way his way?
    “In God we trust his healing power and forgiveness”
    Proud to be your Dad and keep up the good work!!

  • Taylor


  • Caprice

    Snort. Snort…LOL…great story!!

  • That’s a funny story 🙂 🙂 🙂 We don’t run into a covey of quail here. I did pass 8 bucks (deer) while going home one day…but they just have attitudes and stand there until you move 😉 🙂

    My dog, Rosie, tries to fly when she sees birds or squirrels. She’s a scrapper.

    Well,yes, you don’t learn unless you keep trying 🙂 🙂 Greetings from the ocean shores of California, Heather 🙂

  • One morning last summer we were gathering 3 escapee heifers off the campground at the favorite recreation reservoir (long story) I loped into a bunch of does and fawns bedded down behind sage and juniper, when they exploded up my filly decided to join in the fun and bound along with the group in the 4 legged pogo-bound deer are so fond of.

    What did I learn from that? A mecate makes a lousy handle on a pogo stick and it was a whale of a lot harsher than a carousel……AND that a plastic grocery sack makes a lousy saddle pocket. I lost my good camera and 2 pieces of fruit. I was very sad and hungry that day. I still miss that camera.

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