I was ten years old when I rode my bike two miles east of Anaheim to visit Chicky Hunt and his three month old filly. Chicky lived in a house with an orange grove that belonged to his parents. Chicky was an only child, four inches taller than me, and he was a good friend of mine.
Chicky whose real name was Charles let me ride his mare bareback while he rode my bike. We rode through orange groves to reach the Orange County River one mile east of his dad's ranch. The foal ran free next to the mare kicking up her hooves at imaginary foes. Sometimes the foal hung back. At times she ran ahead, but the mare made noises to call the filly and make it stay closer to her.
When we got to the river we noticed pools of water on the sandy bottom. The river curled through the usually dry river-bed toward the ocean. Sometimes the river water was wide and a few inches deep. Other places looked like a creek deep and narrow. At one place the river split to form a small island. Chicky parked the bike and hiked through the water carrying his shoes tied together wrapped around his neck. He stood on the island beckoning for me to come. The horses and I waded out to the island. Chicky and I surveyed our surroundings and noticed bits of wood and gravel on the dry sand. The banks of the river were planted with bamboo, weeds and bushes. We saw a few blackbirds and killdeer birds on the sand. The killdeer birds ran fast on their long skinny legs before dashing through the sky like swallows. It was fun being in the middle of a river. There was nobody there to tell us to stay away.
A half hour later we decided to leave. I rode the mare 100 yards to the far end of the island. Just before stepping into the water the sand looked dry and very white. As the horse stepped on the white sand we plunged down through the sand. The horse reared and her butt sank so that only her head and thrashing front legs were exposed. There was watery sand under us. I jumped off the mare into the quicksand and managed to fight my way out of the wetness. I turned and held the bridle in front of the horse and pulled the head toward land. Several minutes of anxiety passed as we struggled. Chicky helped and we pulled on the horse until she splashed out and regained her feet. She stood on the dry sand and shook her body. I was wet from head to toe with sandy water. It started raining and the water helped wash away the sand. The little filly stayed away from the quicksand.
After a good rest we found a safe place to cross the river and rode home. We were scared to death to tell anyone where we had been and what had happened. Chicky and I will not forget when we were ten years old, when we almost lost his horse.