Thursday, March 22, 2012


Archie, the bay gelding, decided to take a late afternoon stroll earlier this week.  His stall door was open, after all.  And the wheelbarrow that customarily blocks the exit while his owner works her cleansing magic with the muck rake?  Well, it must have been situated so that there was enough of a gap for Archie to morph into a truly hairy Houdini.

The grass is tall out at the barn right now.  What horse would not be lured by its green goodness?  As a row of stabled mates looked on with unbridled envy, Archie grazed and roamed and grazed some more.  First on the good stuff that grows right up against the barn, where moisture dripping off the roof assures some sort of crop even in the hottest part of summer.  Then a couple of lengths away from the barn.  In the seconds that passed before his owner noticed his escape, Archie had made his way out into the open, grassy area that separates the barn from the riding arena.

The young owner, mumbling something about how embarrassing this was, grabbed a halter and lead rope and made her move toward her “baby boy.”  But Archie was having none of it.  Each time she got within a couple of steps of him, the gelding moved away and munched some more.  Soon, other youngsters dropped what they were doing and joined the low-key bronco chase.  Archie, noting the increased interest in his liberated state, darted to another, more verdant corner of the field.  He ate some more. 

The posse grew in number.  More lead ropes.  Peppermint treats were unveiled.  Carrots.  Handfuls of grass.  (Hmmmmm?  There is a field full of grass here and our horse-on-the-lam is going to hit on this bait?)  Each time the throng got close, Archie would take off in a different direction.  The manner of it all made the Keystone Kops look like the Bolshoi Ballet. 

Now, a loose horse is nothing to be taken lightly; everyone was fortunate in this case that most of the horses were put up for the evening, no one was riding down in the arena, and so on.  Still, it was hard not to smile at the vision of Archie enjoying his freedom and the determination of his young pursuers.  Finally, one of them rattled a feed bucket.  Archie’s ears perked up, the quick-thinking captor was able to get close and secure a handful of mane.  The incident came to a peaceful close. 

Question:  What feed buckets are you listening to that are limiting your liberation?

1 comment:

  1. David, Thanks for making my day once again with your amusing way of relaying these barn happenings. Your question is also making me put on my thinking cap about my own feed bucket. kim