Back in early August, I took a trip to Wyoming to pick up a horse trailer that Clark has been tempting me with for quite a while. The bonus, to fill it with hay. Although it has become very stressful for me to take extended periods of time off from work, I finally was able to coordinate a trip with my time off mirroring some time off taken by two of the docs I work with. I was still anxious about leaving my animals behind, horses and cat, but, like Nike says, I had to make up my mind to "Just do it."
Most of the trip was business with much to get done preparing the trailer for the road and taking a morning to load it with hay, but there were a couple of days of relaxation.
On the way up I took a very minor detour to visit Stan for a night and see his house and garden. After a mid-day nap and a walk with the M-dog, we went downtown for First Friday. First Friday is a monthly event highlighting local artists and galleries. While the art was mildly interesting, the local college crowds are much more fun to watch. Fort Collins is an odd, yet engaging mix of old west and new age. I like the town more each time I visit. If only it were west of the Rockies....
At Clark and Mona's house I decided to "save" a bunny baby from those wascally putty tats of Mona's. She saw the kit-tehs chasing it through the yard and managed to catch the little bunny before they did. It was sooooo cute and scared. Clark immediate warned that they usually don't survive captivity but I was sure this one would be different! I found a big box and we put a metal grating over the top. I expected the bunny to die over night, but the next day he/she (how do you tell with a baby bunny?), was alive and well. Couldn't really find any obvious external injuries and I got on the Internet to see what they eat. Seems they like grass so I plucked some from the yard, filled a jar lid with water and corralled the bunny on the kitchen table and there he/she would nibble grass and drink water. Every several hours I would put the bunny on the table, marvel at how adorable it was and offer some food and water. By the end of the second day, little Jr was trying to jump out of the box. I thought this was a good sign. We decided to release our captive over at the hay circle thinking that over there at least the bunny would escape lunch with a kitty.
The next day was spent in town finishing preparations to the horse trailer. What we had hoped would be a short time in town, turned out to be an all day affair. Upon arriving home, the first thing I did was peer into the box to check on bunny and to my horror, what I found was a stiff puff of fur. Clark was right. Sadly, the very next morning was the planned release at the circle. The little thing was still warm and I imagined that I felt a faint heartbeat. I watched for a moment to see any movement indicating breath, I held the soft furry chest to my ear in hopes of hearing a tiny rapid beating but there was neither sign of life. I swaddled the baby bunny in my arms and clothes, somehow hoping that if I could just warm him up, he would come around. I knew better but I couldn't quite let go. **Knowing that I contributed to a little bunny's demise by my good? intentions was really sad for me. I held on until there was no more hint of heat left to be found and carried him at dusk, weeping all the way, to the field on the east side of Sybille Creek Road. I said a Native prayer for my departed friend and finally let go. As I was walking back to the house and I neared the front porch, I could hear another baby screeching as it ran for it's life from the persistent cats. I said aloud, "Wow! Those Native prayers work quickly!" And I had learned my lesson.
The horse trailer, as road worthy as it was going to get at this point, was ready to be loaded with hay. I had forgotten about the humidity in Wyoming. One wouldn't think of it as a humid state, but compared to what I am used to and comfortable with, it was drenching. Your pant legs quit sliding over your legs, and your sweat provides a place for the alfalfa leaves and dust to rest. Enclose yourself in a trailer with no breeze and add some physical exertion and it's not pleasant for long. But thanks to help we got it loaded in minimal time.
Next morning, after goodbyes, it was time to hit the road. Apprehensive at first about hauling this 3,000 lb horse trailer filled with another 5,000 or more lbs of hay with just a hint of trailer brake to stop me, the trailer hauled like a dream, just like Clark promised, and my mighty Cummings diesel helped to hold us back on the downhill side. Even all four of my trailer tires stayed round until I got home, then one deflated within a week.
The trip home was uneventful and pleasant. Well, except for this. This little cloudburst turned into a black downpour that came down so thick and fast and furious that even semis were pulling off onto the shoulder. The wind was howling and whipping thick sheets of rain across the windshield. Wipers were worthless. Even though it was full daylight, you literally could not see the road for an instant at a time. There was an over-sized load on a flat-bed in my rear view mirror and he was riding in the passing lane and holding steady there. I had the slow lane and between the two of us maintaining our lanes and not having to worry about passing vehicles alongside either of us, we made it through without stopping. I played tag with that truck all the way to Evanston, where he exited. After surviving the torrent, I saw a bike headed east bound for it. Man, was he in for a surprise! I fortunately only encountered one more cloudburst in Wendover, Nevada, but it was just a normal summer thunderstorm. Not something out of the "Wyoming Triangle."

**exactly what the title of this blog refers to.