The sound of a low flying helicopter brought us out of the house, our horses nervous and uneasy. We assume it was looking for marijuana gardens in canyons that have been bone dry since the beginning of the drought.
Camera shy, they avoided the house, then headed to a steep pasture where a 75 year-old man is gathering remnants on a young horse. We worry. The colt would damn-sure blow-up if face-to-face with a helicopter coming over the ridge—damn-sure scatter the day’s work and maybe get someone hurt.