If I had to come back as a pack horse, I'd want to be this one. Hiking in the mountains near Durango, Colorado we came across a cowboy named Ben and his two horses. His saddle horse was a huge chestnut named Peanut. For some reason Peanut seemed to like me, walked over toward me and started rubbing. I guess Ben decided that if his horse thought I was alright then I was alright to talk to. I think he was just lonely from being on the trail and maybe a bit bored since we were pretty far away from towns of any size.
It turns out Ben was a working cowboy who was riding from somewhere in Arizona (I think) up through the mountains of Colorado into Wyoming to work some ranch. I get the idea he works and rides around the West and that's about all he does. Up to this point I'd never met what I consider a real cowboy.
The horses had just been shoe-ed and were getting the day off the trail and were grazing in this picturesque valley about 15 miles from Durango. Blue skies, green hills with mountains in the background and a nice pasture with a cold trout stream running down through the middle of it. That's what I mean about wanting to be this particular horse, if I had to be a horse. At least for a while I'd be darn happy.