Horse Trading

Friday was as eventful as usual. I got a call in the early morning from the mother-in-law of the man whose cows are (or as it stands now, were) grazing on our land. She said that Cy (or Charlie, as my husband calls him) was loose on the road again. She said he was running up and down and causing problems for motorists... and did I know the name and number of his owners. I had to confess to her that no, I did not know their names or have their number. (I related how that came about in a previous post.) She seemed disgusted. But maybe my guilty self was reading into things. I described to her where their house was though, told her I'd inform my husband about the horse, and hung up. 

So I told my husband, who was in the shower. (He had returned from a business trip to California in the middle of the night and was struggling to get ready for work.) Then I grabbed a bag of carrots, rounded up my 2 boys and drove to the end of our drive. (The older one could help, maybe, I thought. And the younger one couldn't be left alone in the house with Dad in the shower.) 

A sport utility vehicle was parked at the end of the drive. And there was the horse with a kind-hearted blonde lady who was feeding him grain from a margarine tub. He looked in bad shape. He was muddy, had burrs in his mane and tail, and embedded in his halter. She said the sheriff's "horse man" was on the way. She described how the horse had been rearing and was really skittish. I thought perhaps by way of apology, for she seemed to think that the horse was mine. 

Again I told the story of his frequent escapes, described again where the owners lived, and how I did not know their names or have their numbers. Sigh. While we talked, the Sheriff's man, Terry, showed up. He seemed to have been routed out of bed. He wore shorts on a morning in the 40's and had a flannel thrown over his undershirt. He seemed pretty grumpy. Again, I recounted that the horse was not mine. We all stood there looking at one another. They looked at me expectantly. So I offered a stall to hold him in. 

They seemed relieved and turned to go! My boys were in the van in the drive and I am a visibly pregnant woman that knows nothing of handling horses, especially one that had been running up and down the road "playing chicken" with cars. "Could you help walk him to the barn, please?" I asked. I apologetically pointed out my protruding belly and such. They resignedly acquiesced. 

But the going was rough. Cy wore a halter, but he wasn't cooperative. He tossed his head and resisted while she tried to lead him and Terry smacked his rump with a newspaper. They said they needed a lead. Luckily my husband arrived shortly thereafter with one. So Cy made it safely to our barn... again. Terry made sure to let us know to keep the goats away from him, as he was libel to hurt them, given his mood.

I tried to talk to the good samaritans after Cy was safely stabled. But they had no desire to talk and hurried back down the drive. I asked them what could be done since he kept getting out. I figured someone affiliated with the sheriff's office would know. He called over his shoulder something along the lines of, "I'd say it's time you learned about horses!"

And she called back something like, "My first horse was a dumped horse too!"

"Thanks for your help!" I called after them, and then they were gone. 

On the way into the house I realized that in the fluster of a stamping horse and such I had again failed to do proper introductions. And I also realized that I should have offered them a ride back down the long drive, that they were probably late for work. And then I thought, "I thanked them for saddling me with a horse."

I was fully resigned to keep Cy/Charlie this time, at least until I could locate new owners. I figured the third time was the proverbial charm, after all. After my research during his first visit here, I knew that there was no outlet for horses like him, and I knew I wouldn't be driving over to his owners to pressure them to come and get him, not after the scruples I had the last time I handed him over to them. I also doubted they would come looking for him. Besides, if they didn't have farm insurance (and odds are good that they don't) and a car struck the horse, they would be liable. So not only were they probably struggling to feed him and make their ends meet, they were probably risking being sued for damages every time he got out too.

I also figured that if I wouldn't take him, the sheriffs had no outlet for caring for him. They couldn't just impound him like a car to auction off at year's end. Most likely one of the sheriff's marshals would just euthanize him and sell the meat to a rendering plant if he was abandoned by his owners and no one stepped up to care for him. I couldn't sentence Cy/Charlie to that. So really, assuming ownership of the horse was an act of charity, I told myself. And as luck would have it, one of my home education listservs had just advertised an equine education course for "home schoolers."

Later in the day, after feeding all my kids lunch, I was finally sitting down to lunch myself when a honk sounded outside. The honking continued until I headed outside. My neighbor, son-in-law of the woman who had started the whole horse brouhaha this  morning, was leaning out of his truck. (He has emphysema and presumably didn't want to get out of his truck, but I was still a bit irked. I thought, "why didn't you just call?!") He informed me that the cows had just gotten out again and that since it was so close to our agreed cut-off date, that he took them back to his pastures. So it seemed we had traded cattle for a horse.

As I prepared dinner later that same day (a late dinner, as we had been out with the goats and moving fire wood to a rack near the house) Cy's owners drove up. It seems the sheriff had notified them of their horse's whereabouts and they felt obliged to come get him. My husband headed out. I thought he was going to offer to buy the horse or something, given our previous conversations. But he only turned over the horse and came in with their phone numbers. (And we still don't know their names. What is our problem, anyway? :) But who knows! He may be back again some day.... for good.