Gift Horse

It's been nearly 2 days, and there haven't been any inquiries about the stray horse. My husband has met some new "neighbors" on our quest to find the horse's owner. Every other person seems to own a horse around here, and most people seem to know the other horse owners. But nobody is owning up to losing a horse or knowing of someone else who has. The Sheriff's Dept. hasn't had any calls for lost horses. The nearest horse rescue place hasn't referred anyone to us. 

I just submitted a classified ad to our local newspaper.  I may even enquire to see if they'd like to run a story on him. I'm just hesitant about the loss of privacy that would cause. I contacted the local extension office and the Horse and Pony section of the local 4-H. (They have it posted on their Facebook pages.) I've left information with the local state forrest office. I suppose that now it's time to print flyers to post at the local feed store, grocery store, on telephone poles, etc. Of course I'll need to buy ink for my printer first. And of course, I don't really expect handbills or posters to make a difference.

Horses need a lot of care. They can't really be left more than a weekend on their own. I know that much. So we figured that if we didn't hear from somebody returning from a weekend trip last last night or early this morning only to find their horse gone, that we'd probably not hear from anyone. There's an outside chance that the horse spooked and ran a long way before settling down, and that word hasn't spread far enough yet, but it doesn't seem very likely. For one thing, he wasn't lathered or out of breath when he turned up. It seems to me that either he was either intentionally dumped near our place, turned loose from his pen on purpose, or got out on his own but his owners are sort of relieved that he's gone and don't plan on looking for him. 

My husband has now named him Charlie. The Brown part is implied. I may be doomed to life with a large, needy "pet" about which we have no knowledge and for which we have no use. So now I'm looking at the proverbial gift horse in a new light. Yes, his coat is shiny. Yes, he is well-fed. No, he isn't a sway-back. But his right eye has some clouding. He isn't shoed, and his hooves are chipped and beginning to split. And he quintupled the number of flies in the barn in a matter of hours. He has also drunk about 15 gallons of water a day. The bucket has required many refills. And there goes our hay, which is commanding a good price. Sigh. (Not that we would have sold it for top dollar anyway. Most likely we'd have sold it for half of it's value to our neighbors.)

I haven't looked in his mouth, as the saying goes, but I recently read that if I want to know his age, I'll have to look closely at his teeth. And there are so many other questions. Like, is he broken for the saddle? But then those sorts of questions are probably irrelevant anyway. None of us know how to ride, and as a pregnant woman that's pretty much out for me in the foreseeable future. Even caring for him seems risky for me. The very real possibility of being a horse owner (without any preparation or choice) is sinking in.