I'll take the half rack of ribs, hold the sauce please

A few months ago on one of our trail rides, Lucy and I came upon a relatively fresh dead cow. We spent a few minutes mourning the dearly departed creature, then our my thoughts quickly transitioned to how we were going to get the bones home when it was time (time being that point at which the grossness had decomposed).

The cow carcass is on one of our regular loop rides, so every time we pass it, we stop to check in. Lucy was a little skeptical the first time we smelled /saw the dead cow. Now she's quite blasé about the whole thing. She knows exactly why we always stop at the last juniper tree on the right before we head south. And I'm sure she rolls her eyes and thinks "yep...still dead" every time we do.

Anyway, it's amazing what a few months in the desert sun will do to a dead cow. Yesterday, we decided the bones were dry enough to start bringing them home for our collection. You didn't know I collect bones? It's a New Mexico thing. There's something about finding a bleached white bone in the desert. You can't help but pick it up and bring it home.

There was a four-foot section of spine and rib cage that I thought we'd start with. Lucy stood very patiently while I tied it behind the saddle, but she may have been muttering under her breath about a certain someone having lost her freakin' mind. Once it was secured, I realized there was no way I'd be able to swing my leg an extra two feet high to clear the ribs. On to Plan B.

There was another section of bones attached to the neck vertebrae that would fit nicely over the saddle horn, but again I was faced with the challenge of getting in the saddle with part of a cow carcass in the way. So I stuck the half-rack of ribs on top of a fence post, saddled up, then rode Lucy over to it to pick it up. If this isn't good training for those competitive trail horse challenges, I don't know what is.

Since I didn't have a camera with me, I need you to picture in your mind me and Lucy, moseying the mile and half home with part of a cow carcass in my lap. One of my hands is sticking out between a couple of cow ribs to hold the reins, and the other hand is busy swatting away a gathering cloud of flies. And there's Lucy...shaking her head, taking me home, hoping nobody sees us.

We made it back to the ranch without incident. (Surely had I been riding a horse, he would have gotten western a few times and I would have been impaled with a beef rib. Try to explain that in the ER...) But seeing as how I was riding Lucy the most perfect saddle donkey in the world, no big deal.

Lucy: I cannot believe after all that, now you're making me stand here and pose? Get this thing off of me! It stinks!

Yeah, so it smelled kind of bad and my hands were all greasy and gross and there I was, taking pictures.

Now the Nikon smells like yesterday's barbecue left overnight on the counter,

but I have a new half rack of beef ribs to add to my bone collection.

How does one appropriately display a bone collection? I'm not sure. I just throw them in a pile...

...or two.

The only design rule I'm aware of is that the skulls must be displayed prominently to scare off trespassers.

Now that I have a willing accomplice, my bone collection is sure to grow.

In fact, we found another dead cow last weekend and are counting the days until we can bring it home,

piece by piece by piece.