I was awakened by Dorian's trumpeting as his hooves shook the ground. His panicked hollering most assuredly woke the neighbors as well. I looked out to the barn to see quiet dark shapes standing relaxed; some eating hay while others merely stood like statues in the cool night. I could not see that anyone else was concerned except for Dorian.Dorianis older (29 years old) and a tall, gawkey sort of guy. Racing on the track for over 6 years has left his legs and body with lumps and bumps on top of more lumps and bumps. His withers stand at 17 hh tall but his back dips six inches below - not a comfortable ride bareback by any stretch of the imagination. Being a senior Thoroughbred he is also on the lean side while the others, younger and of QH and Mustang breeding, are more, well -- "rotund" shall I say? Yes, rotund is an apt description. Dorian stands out in the herd like a white thumb.
But,he is our wise old sage here on the farm. Conversations with him can bemost enlightening and concerningly deep at times. He has much wisdom toshare with humans and someday I will make a stronger effort to journal these conversations between he and I.
Dorian's best buddy is a miniature Sicilian Donkey who is also very aged at almost 50 years old. The two of them hang out together during the day, Dorian towering over the little grey back with that black cross adorning his shoulders. Dorian and Amahl are rarely separated. They eat in the same stall; they nap together and stroll around the farm together. We have a little joke around here when Dorian fizzles cause he can't find Amahl -- we say "Uh,oh - Dorian's lookin' for his ass again!" As wise as Dorian is he can be a complete air head as well. So the little description suits him well.
As I looked out the window I saw Dorian whiz into the barn aisle, heard him trumpet yet again, then flash out the other end of the barn and race down the hill to the opening of the back paddock. He was clearly becoming extremely distraught. I knew Dorian had 'lost his ass' once again.
I grabbed the spot light and shined it the 400 feet back into the woods but could not see Amahl anywhere. Neither was he in the barn or on the side. I slipped on my muck boots and doned a woolen shirt over my pj's and scooted out the back door, flashlight in hand. The spotlight had lasted for just about 5 mins so was traded for a Mag light that was longer lasting but of weaker light. As I counted manes and heads I realized that Misty was not anywhere to be seen, either. That was extremely unusual! She usually doesn't stray far from the main barn area, preferring to sleep in the soft sand under the pine trees next to the main paddock. She wasn't there.
Amahl and Misty were both MIA.
Iwalked the path down to the back gate, getting a bit nervous as to whether I'd run into a coyote or fisher or other animal that might not take my presence too kindly in the late night hour. I unhooked the wire gate and slipped into the back paddock. I stood, whistled softly for Misty and Amahl and received no answer. I then sensed a presence around me and realized that Tamilyn and Cheyenne had taken up their places on either side of me with Diego coming up behind me. I was surrounded by myyounger horses ...
They accompanied me as I walked the perimeterof the fenceline to see if there were any breaks. I ran across Misty who had layed down in the small grove of pine trees. This grove is hidden from view when looking from the main barn down to the back. She was sprawled out on her side, snoring and still in REM sleep. We quietlypassed her not wanted to disturb her. Tamilyn, Cheyenne and Diego were still surrounding me as I searched for Amahl. I felt the strong sense they were actually 'guarding' me, as if they knew I was feeling apprehensive about the predatory wild life we have in the woods.
Cheyennegave a low nicker, nudged my arm with her nose then stepped in front ofme. I followed her to the other side of the paddock that was deep in the woods. As I shined the light out through the trees a small, grey shape formed ... one with very long ears and very short legs. Amahl was ignoring my calls, ignoring my whistles and I had a distinct feeling he was just trying to have a small, private, undisturbed nap. However, withDorian trumpeting still up at the main barn, now galloping around in frantic circles, I said to Cheyenne, "OK, Chey -- wanna help me herd Amahl back up to the barn for Dorian so the neighboorhood can get back to sleep?" Cheyenne then started to get Amahl moving and then Tamilyn and Diego also joined in. I watched as the 3 horses surrounded Amahl andhe had nowhere to go except where they directed. I followed behind withmy flashlight and soon was able to see my way a bit more clearly in thedark as I approached the lit area from the spotlights on the house thatlit up the main paddock area.
When I finally reached the top of the hill to the barn I saw Tamilyn, Cheyenne and Diego standing in a line watching me. Dorian had herded Amahl to 'their' spot where he was sniffing him from head to hoof, periodically licking his withers or earsas if checking him all over to make sure he was OK.
Dorian was relieved; Tamilyn, Cheyenne and Diego were most pleased with themselves and I was grateful that I had 3 of the herd to be my guardians while trekking out in the dark paddock and woods.
It was clear that the3 of them were guarding, protecting AND leading me. It was clear that they knew exactly what I wanted and knew, also, that I would not have been able to keep up with Amahl as he trotted and cantered in the dark back to the barn. So, they took over the job of getting him back to Dorian for me.
They were so proud of themselves, those younger 3;Dorian had once again been reunited with his ass; the ponies never lefttheir hay pile and Misty? I'm sure Misty was still deep in REM sleep, snoring away, completely oblivious to the little event that was unfolding around her in the woods.
It was a special happening. Another special connection had been formed between human and horses. I'msure the neighbors were all very happy that quiet was once again restored at PENZANCE.