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»	Las Ventanas
	Hunter
	The memory

'Las Ventanas' is a gigantic valley which under the misname of 'ranch' is sold periodically and with precise regularity, every 7 years: when abundant water comes out from it's very deep well. Unfortunately in a finite volume and for a time only long enough to dream a little. One of those occasions was our turn to be the enthusiastic buyers.
 

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And although my beloved compadres cried sour tears over the 500 recently planted walnut trees dying of thirst, my son Juan Ramon and I dedicated ourselves to enjoy at plenitude the valley's 115 Fahrenheit degrees at noon and 35 at midnight, it's solitude, the sound of silence, barren, with giant 45 miles per hour jackrabbits.

In that landscape, within the confines of a huge corral, our horses remembered their mustang ancestry and became wild. It took us more or less an hour to saddle up. It was part of the fun, besides having to make a lengthy surrounding journey to enter this valley of extinct dinosaurs. The fact was proven by the colossal intact and complete skeleton of a mammoth found a few yards from the single entrance into the valley.

In that segment of our cow-less cowboy era, I had a horse which I named "Shunkawacan", for the Yellow Hand indian legend of that who didn't know whether it was a horse that dreamed with being a man, or a man dreaming he was a horse. Tough and resilient quarter horse, noble clear chestnut, he acted well his name.
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