Horse Drama, A Day in the Life of a Farmer’s Wife, Day 13

I could tell you about the 2,000 pounds of mulch that when loaded into our Tundra by a front loader the size of a small house almost covered my husband in the cab and leveled our truck. We even paid real money for it. But you kind of had to be there to experience it.

Or I could share with you the dreary tale of unloading a ton of mulch into our field. My back hurts just thinking of it.

Or perhaps I could share with you about the family of deer that got separated crossing my driveway this afternoon when I picked up the mail. Bambi takes on new meaning in the country.

Today, I thought I’d share a happening that made me angry.

It was all about horse drama.

The neighbor who is a horse trader keeps shifting the horses from one field to the next. There is the field on the farmhouse side. Pete the donkey lives there, along with Red and a few others.

The field across the gravel road is our property. Blue, the horse I thought would be mine lived there until Jamie thought he should live at his pasture up the road.

I miss Blue.

Recently, there’s been a very unhappy paint horse in that field. Tom and I think he was separated from his friend. Often during the day and sometimes in the evening, we hear his forlorn cry.

We’ve named him Sad Horse.

The other day, I gave an apple to Sad Horse. He didn’t smile but did let me pet his head and talk to him. There are three other horses in the field who ignore Sad Horse.

Horse cliques. Who knew?

I thought I’d sneak two carrots to Sad Horse today. Trouble was the horse clique noticed. They trotted to the fence in a sort of synchronized swimming horse routine. So I broke up one carrot and shared.

Then I called Sad Horse. Gray Clique Horse didn’t like that one bit. He suffered from carrot envy and edged his way in while Sad Horse stood away from the fence.

“Come here, Sad Horse. I have a carrot just for you,” I said as I moved away from the other horses, trying to draw Sad Horse to the fence.

Just then, Gray Clique Horse ran over and bit Sad Horse on the back! Then Sad Horse moved forward and kicked Evil Gray horse! I couldn’t believe it! Horse justice welled to the surface of my astounded-city-dweller-brain.

“Get away, Gray Horse! You are mean! You’re all mean to Sad Horse and I don’t like it! Go away!” I sniffed. “You should be nice to Sad Horse. How would you feel if they took your buddy away?

They stared at me. A bird flew by. Leaves fluttered in the breeze.

I waited for an answer.

None came.

Probably a good thing.

Being a horse must be tough. There are usually several flies on your eyes, you stand while you sleep, and you never know when your buddy might be sold.

And then there are the cliques.

Kind of like humans.

Tomorrow might be a better day. They’re going to set our house on the foundation and we don’t have to shovel mammoth-sized-mulch piles into our garden.

I think it’s gonna be a better day for Sad Horse, too.

He’s gonna get two apples.

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