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July 16, 2005

Shifting Sands

It can feel as if  the ground underneath us is like shifting sand that gives way when we hear of new terrorist acts and innocent deaths, even on the other side of the earth. We seek to cling to something predictable and solid when horrible things happen and try to make sense of anger that generates so much hatred and trauma.

I had a glimpse of farm yard terrorism in the middle of the night when we awoke last night to pounding hooves outside our bedroom window.  Horses loose!  We raced to the barn to see the barn aisle a mass of tipped bales and strewn hay, and one stall door standing wide open.  There were no loose horses to be seen until two burst together through the main aisle door, our stallion holding our two year old gelding's neck in his mouth and shaking him for all he was worth, practically carrying him into the barn. He was furious. The gelding's stall door had not been latched properly (my fault) and he had let himself out in the night to visit all the Haflinger mares up and down the stall aisle, nosing them through the woven wire.  Our stallion, who is pastured outside at night, could see this from his vantage point in the field, and in his testosterone-driven fury, plowed over/through a 4.5 foot pipe gate, and was going to teach this young intruder a lesson.  

It took some effort and significant risk on our part to separate them.  Our stallion wasn't about to let go of the gelding.  The gelding had practically collapsed under the grip on his neck.  Once we had them separated and put away, all four of us shaking with adrenalin, we inspected our two year old, who had numerous bite marks to show for his nocturnal visiting but was okay.  He was lucky to be alive after experiencing the anger of a stallion whose territory is invaded.  

Our stallion's behavior was a frightening spectacle of terrible temper over what he perceived as a threat to his domain.  Of course, in reality a gelding is no threat at all to him, but his perception was that the intruder was to be subdued.  Ordinarily very mild mannered in all types of show and barn settings, this stallion had exploded with what he considered due provocation and now I'm wondering if I can live with that level of  unpredictability on our farm, as explainable as it is.  It was a watershed experience for me in horse farming and not one I ever want to witness again. The ground was definitely shifting under my feet as those two thundered by me, inches away, out of all control.

On the gentler side, this was also weaning week for our 4 month old colt who has grown so sturdy and handsome with his 6 inch mohawk mane. He has been such a delight to work with but his pregnant mom was growing weary of him and was appreciating the night time separation that I started last week. So this week they have been separated for good.  Our colt is despondent and
taking this transition very hard, even when pastured for company with old "Uncle Amos", our 21 year old gelding. Another day and the crying should be less, but our new little weanling is certainly feeling the "shifting sands" of life too--nothing is as it used to be. He is so grateful when we come visit him and scratch and rub him on all of his favorite spots, so he will find there are new bonds to make with people.

Old Amos is back at work too this summer, as a lesson horse for our daughter and her friend, and on the Fourth of July he served as the pony ride for 5 visiting children and he was such a good citizen about it all. Today was particularly poignant as my 6'4" 16 year old son, who just "puts up with the horse stuff" and limits his involvement historically to barn cleaning, tending the horses at the fair and working hay crew said to me "s'pose I could ride Amos today?" It took me less than 10 minutes to get Amos in from the field and saddled up. So this big solid guy climbed up on this rock solid Haflinger gelding and enjoyed relearning how to find the gas pedal and the brakes and steering wheel and glided around the arena at a walk and trot, completely enjoying himself, even managing to post the trot. Not sure this was all newly found regard for horses though, as there is a young lady he's been accompanying to dinner and a movie or two who has horses herself... I won't question where the motivation comes from.

So after my son was done I grabbed the helmet and climbed on too. I haven't ridden for way too long--on the days that Amos is ridden, there are usually at least 2 riders, so he is a busy guy, and I have not felt a big need to ride, feeling like taking care of the horses is plenty of horse activity for me. But climbing up in the saddle at age 50 and looking through those Haflinger ears and reaching down to stroke that double wavy maned neck, I knew it had been way too long. Amos felt good and solid in a week of shifting sands and unexpected terror. 

Emily
http://www.briarcroft.com/emily.htm