The way a herd moves, assembles, ebbs and flows, relates to its members, is a work of social art among horses. When I watch the horses here, only five of them now, I am a distant being, like a bird in a tree just watching and listening to their equine community. This particular group has been together since 2005 and six, they are so familiar to each other and dependant, the way horses are, upon the movements and affect of one another. The comfort and alarm by each other and correct or errant behavior. All shared with the slightest gesture in posture or gaze. It's marvellous to observe and i feel like a tiny outsider until they spot me. Then they will come up to me, seeking food or maybe just some touch, some reassurance that i will care for them. Horses are followers, even the most strident alpha seeks a leader and will follow a person through the most unnatural applications of their strength and power as long as one is clear, consistent and fair in the asking. They are 'feelers', always judging the content of our character and responding accordingly. For all of my life, they have captivated my imagination, curiosity and awe. That a full grown horse would allow me to mount and ride or drive and make course mistakes with their sensitive natures always leaves me amazed and humble as i grow older in years, increasingly aware of that trust and responsibility to them. For most of these horses, they are 'rescues' from the high stress industry of horse racing. They came here because their owners wanted to send them some place safe and know they would have a chance at a 'good' life. We used to retrain them and seek out forever homes where they would be the center of someone's universe...These last several years, I stopped actively seeking such homes; few and far between, they were sometimes honored, but often used and then forgotten like a novelty toy. Not always the case, but it happened enough times that I have largely given up on people that are transient with horses. So here they stay, on eleven acres of lousy soils, nasty hollows and deficient grazing; but they are largely free to do as they please as long as they honor the fences, the thin crinkled electric wire that keeps them in. Yet they are so happy here; unaware of such rustic keeping, happy to chose who and where they will stroll with in this way. No to low stress for these slick coated horses who once performed peak athletic endevors despite their breaking hearts as they were deprived of herd living and dusty wallows to roll in. For this tight band of horses, knit together over the last eight years, this is home. I am wracked with guilt when I think of tearing it apart, sending one away; its actually easier to end their life here, to let them die among friends and be buried where they have been so happy. This is were their heart is. To laze away a day, and walk with these horses is the highest privilege i can enjoy as a horseman. I wish that others could live that dream-like way of being with horses.
