Well, all
right then. The sun has crested the
hill. I’ve done my chores. I’ve added nectar to the two hummingbird
feeders, filled the three bowls with kittie kibble, and tossed a bunch of
alfalfa into the corral for the horses.
I’ve brewed a cup of hot tea, and it’s time to tell a story.
As pets,
horses can be a big expense. Aside from
the joy of admiring these handsome huge creatures and getting the occasional
affectionate face hugs from them, they need to offer more to make it worth it.
One should be able to climb up their backs and be carried out into the day.
Patas
Blancas has been through various efforts by three different people to train
him, in his four years. Lack of continuity has been our downfall. It is high time
that he cooperate and accept the saddle and bit. In fact, he does accept certain people on his
back. But to give a good ride is yet
beyond his reach. He is willful. A good horse will not only accept a rider,
but will agree to also work together with the rider to accomplish a mutual
goal. Although he is healthy, and in the
spring he was even fat, I have been negligent in his care. I have made a firm commitment to turn over a
new leaf.
Each
morning at dawn I separate him from his filly, and lead him to a small
enclosure. Knowing a hungry horse cannot
think of anything but food, I give each of them a small portion of alfalfa. I keep the filly in the corral so that she
will not be a distraction to him. I go
back in the house for my morning prayers and first cuppa.
My theory
is that in fifteen minutes a day, he will slowly learn to understand and accept
basic commands. I lead him in moves
around the 25 foot long rectangle, on a rope, and at the end of each revolution
he is rewarded with a slice of apple.
One day I
was returning from a shopping trip to town, when I saw a yearling colt standing
in the road, at my fence, communicating with my two horses. I left the gate open, and he wandered in. I had no idea who he was or where he came
from, but wandering free on the road could not be a safe option for him. I did not put him in the corral with the
horses, but left him free to give them time to adjust to each other.
I started
putting notices on my Facebook page, knowing that a few local women followed
it. No one responded. For three days, I wrote reminders that the
little guy was still here, waiting for his owner. I went around asking if anyone knew of a
missing pony. I found out where the
center for registered brands is located, in Canatlan, and went there. The young man took a copy of the horse’s
photo and said he would end out a notice to his list. Days passed, and still nothing.
Pony walks
up to the fence and goes nose to nose with the filly for a moment. Then suddenly she draws back and whinnies; an
unseen message passed between them, and she did not like it.
When they
are all freely grazing around the two acres here, the pony keeps his
distance. When the pair go down the
embankment to the riverbed pasture, he follows along behind them at a safe
distance. They all spend hours down
there grazing.
They all
three come back up and continue grazing.
If the pony gets too chummy, Patas lunges for his neck. If he gets too close to the filly, she aims a
hind kick at him. I feel sorry for
him. It looks like they are not
accepting him.
Sometimes
he goes down to the riverbed alone. I
might bring him his morning rations of alfalfa down there, where he won’t have
to fight the othr two for it. The
undergrowth is so thick there that I can walk the length of the area and see no
sign of him. He senses my presence, and
before long reveals himself to me.
One rumor
had it that a woman at a ranch called La Luz was missing a horse. Not knowing where that was, I drove to Rancho
Seco, the nearest town down the road and heavily invested in horses. I drove slowly down the dusty roads looking
for someone to ask. One old man sat on a
stone under the eaves; I asked him; no. I
drove on a little further, and saw a bent old man leaning on a cane in the
street in front of a car and a house. He
said he knew of this place. As he
described its location, towards the town of Sauceda, I knew that was too far a
distance for this horse to wander lost.
The untamed
horse now walks after me, looking for food.
He follows me to the stable, and I close the door behind him. My firewood guy rides up on his motorbike,
asking about the sale of my two horses.
We agree on a price, at the moment he has the money but it won’t stay in
his pocket long. I am not ready to part
with them. I show him the pony and ask
if he recognizes him. He does not, but
while the guy is here and the pony is enclosed in the stable, we put a harness on
him. First the guy makes a lasso of a
thick rope, and tosses it over the resisting head of the pony. It slides nicely into place, and we have the
means to hold him still while we put the harness on him.
This week
the moon is full. I am awakened by a
strange noise, a thud. I put on slippers
and walk outside into the moonlight. The
two horses in the corral are close to the fence. The pony is just a few feet away, standing by
the locked stable where the hay is kept. I walk up to him and
talk with him a bit. The still night air is magical. He remains very
still, relaxed, aglow with moonlight. I freely pat his nose,
and then his neck. It was a tender moment. My filly had been with me a
month before she would let me touch her like that.
After a
week, I heard that Tocho, here in El Pozole, had lost a pony. I drove to the last known residence and left
a note in the door. I returned the next
day, and found the note untouched. I
knew he had another place, out towards the Sierra. One time when my horses had wandered off from
the river onto the other bank, he had put them within his gates and, after a
day, came on his motorcycle to tell me I should keep my horses in check, they were
causing damage, the usual tirade. that day I
jumped in my car and followed him the few miles out. There I saw my horses out in the distance on a
slight hill, mixing with the cattle.
There were no damaged fences or crops in sight. My horses do not rampage. I called them to me, they ambled down the
hillside in their own good time, and walked out the gate I had opened for them. They returned the way they came, to the
riverbed, across, through our fence and up the embankment to their corral. That’s how I knew that Tocho had another
place.
This day I
drove back out to that place, as best as I could remember it. In the dusty roadway there are various tracks
leading off into other fenced pasture lands.
I could not find the gate and hillside I had in my memory. Frustrated, I turned around and headed
home. I had not gone but a few yards
when a motorcyclist, passing on the left, greeted me. I recognized him as the youngest son of
Tocho, the youth who had first tried to train Patas Blancas. I threw my arm out the window and hailed him
to stop, as I fumbled with the other hand to switch off the radio.
I told him
I found a pony. A broad smile melted his
face. “You found my horse!”
I drove
back home, and waited for him. After a
while he returned, with a length of thick rope.
While I waited, I went down to the riverbed side of my property, where
the three horses were. The pony followed
me up the embankment, no doubt in hopes that I would have some alfalfa for
him. I got him into the small stable,
and closed the door.
I showed
the kid to the stable. He went inside,
and fashioned a halter with the rope he brought. He removed the harness I had put on him. While the kid went to bring up his
motorcycle, I held the horse still and calm.
I said my goodbyes to him. He is
a sweet pony. The kid led the horse away
behind his motorcycle. I thought my
horse would be happy to be rid of him, this intrusion on his well-ordered life
as king of the pack. I was wrong!
Patas was
in the corral as the pony was led away.
He went ballistic! He whinnied
angrily. He galloped down the length of
the corral towards the gate, whinnying noisily.
He galloped back and again, at full speed, to the corral gate, and back
again towards the road. He did it again,
dancing and bucking. It was quite a
show.
I think I
learned something that day about the nature of the horse. He had put the colt through days of hazing,
teaching him lessons he needed about his place in the herd. Patas was not rejecting the pony, though it
might have seemed that way to me. As the
leader of the herd, he was nurturing him, teaching him the way of horses,
teaching him his place in the pecking order.
I am always
humbled, when the horses teach me something, increasing my awareness of the
nature of these most noble of beasts. I
have waited literally all my life to finally realize my dream to have my own
horse companion. I cherish every day,
knowing our time together is so short.
Here is Cinderella at dusk
Blancas and me, signing off
