*
So the summer passed into fall, and on into winter, but no matter what the weather, when feeling contemplative, I sought refuge at the pasture fence where the boarded horses grazed. One little bay in particular caught my eye. Although other horses were visited by their “people”, the little bay never seemed to have anyone. Dale and Jacque, knowing I was familiar with all the horses in our area, often gave me treats to pass on to the horses that caught my eye, and often I would take the treats to the little Bay.
I had noticed that the Bay appeared to be very thin. Over time his condition did not improve but I didn’t know who owned the pasture or who owned the horse. When I told Dale about him, he gave me a little grain and explained how to assess the horses’ condition…and admonished me to report his condition to him.
Obediently I brought the grain to the horse, and unabashedly entered the field, hoping that the other horses wouldn’t get wind of what I carried. As always, the Bay was separated from the remainder of the herd in his weakness and watched me with interest. Up until this point, I had done no more than scratch his forehead over the fence and feed him random treats. Carefully, used to the temperamental Thoroughbreds, I approached, ready to run for cover if he showed any aggression….or if another horse did. But he nickered in greeting and gladly stuck his head into the borrowed feedbag I held. While he ate, I observed how thin he really was, how his neck was sunken in, and when I was able, I walked around him, running my hands along the furrows in his back, stroking his bony ribs and eyeballing the distance between his side and the point of his hipbone.
I had watched as the grain fell out of his mouth, how carefully he chewed and how ravenously. His hooves were overgrown and chipped, and I nearly cried at the listlessness in his eyes. He appeared to be a purebred Arabian, his breeding obvious even under the neglect. The little Bay had the wide-set eyes, high arch to his neck, flat croup, concave face, small muzzle, small ears….he HAD to be purebred, or nearly so. Who could just abandon this sweet creature to starve in a frozen Minnesota tundra?
As I turned to go, blinking back tears, I heard footsteps behind me and saw the Bay’s stricken shadow standing in relief against the trampled snow. He was trying to follow me!
I turned and lifted my hand, but the Bay was quicker…he met my hand with his forehead and rubbed in an up-and-down motion, starved as much for affection as he was for good food.
I was about to turn to go again when a sharp voice called my attention. A man was entering the gate, demanding that I stand where I was. Obediently, shaking both in surprise and fear, I stood, afraid that I was in trouble and would not have the opportunity to see this beautiful horse ever again.
The man stomped up to me, startling the Bay, who backed away with widened eyes and high steps, ready to flee, then trotted a little further, choosing to watch at a safe distance.
“Who are you? What are you doing here? Is that your horse??”
“..I..uh..” I stuttered, not sure how to respond.
“Just start with your name.”
He stood impatiently while I explained that my name was Kaya, I didn’t own the horse but only wanted to help him. I held up the feed bag and told him that my friends had given me the feed for him.
The man interrupted my halting explanation. “So what, you think I don’t feed my horses? Look around you, they’re fine! So’s this one…he’s only old. Nothing wrong with him.”
“I…I…didn’t mean to say…I just really like this horse and he didn’t seem to have anyone…”
The man suddenly softened. “Well, I guess no harm done. I don’t know who owns this horse..he was left here with a couple of others and he won’t let me close to him. Whoever dropped him off owes me money for board, but I don’t think they’re coming back. I’m gonna just keep the others..they’re healthy enough, but this one is likely too old for any good work. You wanna buy him?”
I gulped, taken aback. “I don’t have any money…I can’t afford to pay for board…”
The man appraised the little gelding again, standing silently. I was afraid to speak.
“Well, he’ll probably bring some money from the dog food factory…guess I should bring him to auction before he gets any worse. He’s not worth the cost of the vet’s gas to come out and see him.” He paused, then brought his attention back to me. “If you want him, you can have ‘im. He’ll need some vettin’…I guess you can save me the aggravation of having to catch his sorry ass, drag him to the ring and wait for him to be sold.”
I stared at him silently, shocked, unable to speak.
“So? You want him or is he dog food?”
“..I..uh…I don’t have anywhere to keep him..I don’t have a halter…”
“Tell you what. I’ll give you a couple days to get him out of here. If he’s still here by..say…Friday, I’ll be removing him myself. Deal?”
“But…how much..?”
“Darlin’, you just got yourself a free horse. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”
I turned on my heel and headed out of the pasture, not sure how to feel or what to do. If I didn’t come back for the horse he would go to auction. But if I did come back for him…what would I do with him, how would I pay for him?
The man’s voice echoed again across the field.
“Hey, KID! Wait a minute!”
I turned, thinking that now he was going to demand some money of me. Or ban me from the property and call the police to charge me with trespassing. But I walked back towards him anyway, really thinking I had nothing to lose.
“Listen, I got an old halter, was about to throw it out, but if you want you can take it. It won’t last long, but you should be able to get him somewhere with it. I just don’t wanna waste any more time on this guy. Wait here…I’ll go get it. Then just get him off my property now. I don’t care what you do with him.”
I only nodded, then turned to my little Bay, who stood watching from afar. I didn’t try to approach, choosing instead to wait for the man to return with the tack. I figured that if he came back as blustery as before, the Bay would associate his loud voice with me, and I’d never be able to catch him again. So both the Bay and I waited, silently, looking at each other, just waiting.
I shivered in the Minnesota cold. Snow was on the breeze. A storm was coming. Mom was gonna kill me.
The man wasn’t gone long as the barn was adjoining the pasture. He limped back to me and handed over an old red, frayed nylon halter and lead rope that had seen better days. I feared it would literally fall apart in my hands.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Good luck with that old gluepot.” He turned and walked away, silently in the winter afternoon, the snow crunching under his boots. I watched him go, stunned, the reality of this hitting me. Soon, there was nothing but the wind to feel, and the sound of winter crows dive-bombing for whatever could be scavenged in that barren pasture.
Carefully I approached the Bay with the halter in my hands, hardly believing what I was doing. He stood there, alert, head high, but allowed me to buckle the halter without complaint. When I started to move toward the gate, he came along somewhat willingly, only hesitating a little as I lead him carefully around the ice patches in the pasture which had been his lonely prison.
I walked her new charge through the ditches alongside the roadway in the approaching twilight, not having any idea what to do or where to go. I didn’t want to presume anyone’s help, but wondered if maybe I could find him a temporary home while seeking a more permanent solution. Or, if worst came to worst, turned him over to Hooved Rescue.
It was only about a mile to Trinity Creek, via the road, which was the only place I thought this mess may be tolerated. And even as I fought this internal struggle silently, all the while my little Bay tagged along, seeming to trust that I could lead him to somewhere better.
These thoughts so engrossed me that I did not hear the car pulling up alongside me or the voice cautiously asking where I was headed. It was my new horse who had to bring me back to the real world, in his panic at hearing an unknown voice.
I looked up, holding tightly to the frayed lead, surprised to see that Dale had stopped and leaned across the seat of his pickup, calling to me through the window.
“Whatcha got there? This the horse? I thought you were going to just tell me about him…no need to drag him all the way home!”
I smiled, tears suddenly brimming. “I’m sorry…I didn’t really plan this. The ranch owner gave him to me…said it would be cheaper than bringing him to auction to be sold as dog food.”
Dale nodded. ‘He’s in rough shape. You were right. What do you intend to do with him?”
I stared at him, not knowing how to respond. The tears fell down my cheeks, unchecked “I don’t know! But I couldn’t let him die…I couldn’t refuse to take him! I don’t even know how old he is, or what he really needs!”
I turned and buried my head in the Arabian’s mane, feeling the deep furrow in his neck which should have been filled with muscle. And yet he stood, seemingly not alarmed, seeming to understand.
By then, Dale had gotten out of the truck and was standing on the roadside with us. “There, now, don’t cry Honey. I think we can help you out…but you leave it to me, you hear? This farm’s a business, not a charity…so let’s see if we can work something out. Do you have a backup plan?”
I wiped my eyes and nodded. “I figured I could call Hooved Rescue and see if they’ll take him.”
“Well, you just bring him on back to the farm and we’ll see what kind of condition he’s in for real. You OK getting him there?”
I nodded, too grateful for his understanding to be able to speak. So we walked onward, suddenly with a place to go, suddenly hopeful that maybe, just maybe, this could work out.
It wasn’t long until we were back at the farm, and already Dale had a stall ready and waiting for its new occupant.
The Bay hesitated, then lured by the smell of fresh grain and water, walked in and found his meal. I unhooked the lead and let him be, carefully closing the stall door behind him. Outside it was rapidly getting dark, but it didn’t matter…Mom wouldn’t care where I was. She was working.
While I watched him eat, Dale joined me and we stood together in silence while he tried to get a feel for the poor gelding’s condition. His critical eye saw the grain falling from the horses’ mouth and the meager meat on his bones. The horses’ eyes were listless but yet, he showed signs of life and interest in his surroundings. There were signs of training and familiarity with stalls and people. This is something he had noted at the roadside.
When he had finished Dale asked me to go into the stall and lead him out to the cross-ties. Upon opening the stall door the Bay raised his head and nickered, rubbing his forehead once again on my arm. I took the time to stroke his neck and scratch his ears before snapping on the lead, wanting him to associate good things with the training implements.
He was cautious, alert, and held his head high but allowed me lead him through the barn. Dale approached slowly, used to dealing with skittish animals, but when he reached for his head to scratch him he pulled away, showing the whites of his eyes.
“I really need to get a look at those teeth…clearly they need some care or he wouldn’t be so thin. Kaya, do you think you can give this a try? He seems to trust you and this is as good a time as any for you to learn. I could force the issue, but that’s really not a good idea.”
He told me how to open his mouth to show his teeth. Dale was surprised by what he was able to see; this horse was not as old as he appeared, making his condition that much more shocking.
“Well…tomorrow I’ll look to his feet and we’ll get his teeth done. I’m going to need you to be here morning and evening after school to take care of him. Morning you’ll clean his stall out and be in charge of his special diet. No more grain…I think a nice mash for morning. This guy needs some nutrition. He also needs to get used to being handled. You’ll need to spend a lot of time working with him, but I think he’ll be a good horse for you. Maybe a bit of a handful but we can help you with that.”
“You mean I can keep him here? But what about board? What about feed? I don’t have a job, I can’t pay…”
“Well, I think maybe we can work something out. You leave the Bryski’s to me…I think they’ll be ok with this, but you have to prove you’re woman enough to do what needs to be done.”
All I could do was agree…this was the chance of a lifetime, and even if Mom was gonna kill me…THIS WAS SO WORTH IT! So I started to walk away and my new friend poked his head over the stall door and called to me again. When I turned, he raised his upper lip in a trembling movement. Unable to resist, I returned to him, promising to come back in the morning. .
Dale stood back appraising all of this. “What do you plan to call him?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I think I’ll name him ‘Nickers’ because that’s what he does every time he sees me!”
Dale chuckled. “Well, I think you got a winner there. Now…let’s go see the missus…she’s the one we have to convince. But remember…I’ll do the talking.”
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