Miracle of spring brings new life to Fish Springs
by Linda Monohan
Fish Springs Flier
Oh, the miracle of spring. It happened last week just before Easter. Two baby wild horses were born out here in Fish Springs. I couldn’t tell whether they are colts or fillies, but they certainly are beautiful little foals. They join a family of seven strong and healthy-looking wild horses that frequent the Bureau of Land Management hills that surround this little mile-high valley.
We want them to stay in the hills instead of grazing in residents’ yards. The grass may be greener in landscaped yards, but it’s also a dangerous place to hang-out. The horses are more likely to be rounded-up and taken away. Pretty soon we’ll be seeing baby bunnies and itsy-bitsy baby quail birds. The miracle of spring, we love it.
“Roundabout” is a word that has been in the news a lot lately and it really provokes vivid memories of my first time “around.” It happened 11 years ago in England on a “one-carriage” twisty country road. It’s bad enough having to drive on the left side of the road over there, but to negotiate our first “roundabout” on a motorcycle Ð now that was an experience.
The adventure started in a 400-year-old traveler’s inn. The historic White Hart Royal Hotel is in Moreton-in-Marsh in the Cotswold’s area of England’s pristine countryside. My husband was wearing a motorcycle shirt and the owner of the inn saw him and said, “You’ve got to take my BMW and go exploring.” Just like that. He didn’t have to twist Norbert’s arm as he was thrilled to ride the big R100GS motorcycle. What a kick it was to cruise around the picturesque rolling hills and through the well-preserved medieval towns and villages with their fairytale thatched-roof cottages. We think Genoa is old, but it’s just a babe by comparison!
Everything was great, until we came to a roundabout. What the heck was going on? Pedestrians were making a mad dash for the island and everyone was driving in circles. It all seemed so crazy. I’d never seen that kind of traffic control before. Norbert maneuvered us around the circle staying on the left side of the road until he found an opening where we escaped out of the tricky intersection. There may have been a few horns honking but I don’t think they were aimed at us. Everyone seemed to be doing the same thing.
To regain a peaceful disposition, we stopped in Bourton-on-the-Water (I called it Bourbon-on-the water) along the River Windrush to soak in its history and unwind after the anxiety of the roundabout. The Brits are usually very polite and patient, but they sure didn’t seem that way behind the wheel. I just don’t see our Douglas High School teenagers being very patient, especially at the beginning and end of school and at lunch time. I’d have to vote no on a roundabout at Highway 88 and County Road.
— Linda Monohan can be reached at 782-5802.