The Wagonteamster Channel has it’s first video production - Journey To the Valley Of the Wild Horses

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6-18-12, Victor, ID - The lads and I continue to rest here in the Teton Valley.  The downtime is doing everybody a world of good. The team once more have that calm, rested look in their eyes, as I suppose I do as well.  I’ve decided to stay put until Friday, giving everyone a solid week of kicking back.

The lads are very attached to human presence.  Whenever anybody is in the yard, they’re always right there where the action is.  Bill is like a big pest.  Wherever I walk, he’s always a step behind.  If I stop, his head either goes on my shoulder or he places his muzzle against my chest or in my armpit.

Deb’s son Garry having a guy/horse moment with Billy as he grazes in the yard.

Not one to remain idle long, I’ve been using my free time to pitch in around the place. After graveling the driveway, I started putting a gate in one of the fence lines. The next few days I plan on working with my host’s saddle horses.

It’s been nice sleeping in until 6:30 every morning. I would sleep longer but the horses show up at the wagon and start sending out some strong ESP messages that say, ‘Oats, Oats, Oats!’ Sometimes the thought waves are so loud, it’s like trying to sleep in the rhythm section of a marching band. I need an automatic oat dispenser on the side of the wagon, where I can push a button and go back to sleep.  Next time I’m working overtime at a nuke, I’ll design one (overtime abuse pays better than straight time abuse),

I plan on being in West Yellowstone, MT after a week of travel and should be moving west of Bozeman (towards Three Forks) about the 7th of July. Most of July should be spent in Montana as I travel through Helena and Missoula, before making my way over Lolo pass and into northern Idaho, on my way to the Southeast corner of Washington.

And now, with a belly full of steak and beans, I’m going to publish this blog and turn off the light.  It’s nice to know that I can sleep in; at least until the guys start that awful mental racket. And if that doesn’t work, Bill has been known to pick up his rubber feed pan in his mouth and throw it at the wagon. Usually he misses, as he has to work on his aim. When he starts throwing strikes with his feed tub, I’m in trouble.