Desert Pool and the Bad Burro

We finally got in a spring trip to southern Utah.  Above is a view of the Henry Mountains from across the vast San Rafael Desert.

Down the sandy hills we went,

riding past domes

and other formations,

past a brush corral built by cowboys (or outlaws, or cowboy outlaws, depending on which stories you hear).

up to cliffy overlooks

and down to a beautiful emerald pool below a sandstone pour-off.

From above, you can see the deep cut water has carved into the sandstone as it flows into the pool below.

Here's the bad burro.  He scared the socks off of Coco, who whirled and ran away at light speed, unfortunately with Janie aboard, going downhill over rocks and dunes, then halfway up a slope, before finally deciding to stop.  Deciding, I say, because the reins and frantic screams of "Whoa!" did no good at all.  The good news is, neither horse nor rider were hurt, although both were a bit trembly at the end of the run.
The lone bad burro didn't run away.  He stayed close, braying at Daisy and generally being obnoxious for at least 15 minutes.  That's unusual.  Most burros stop, stare, then run off, all within a minute or two. A loner is also unusual, since we've only seen the burros in groups before.  Maybe he was having a bad day, but we'd rather not encounter this particular jackass again.

Speaking of Daisy, here she is, post burro experience.  Unperturbed, she took another dip in the pool, came out clean as a hound's tooth, then quickly corrected the cleanliness with a vigorous roll in the sand, groaning with pleasure.  This is Daisy's version of a luxury spa.