Alarm

January 05, 2009

Thunderous hooves, riotous dogs

My nerves are raw at the thought of something wrong

Three out of four were gone from my sight

Carried away by freedom or fright

Three-year-old boy at my side

I conjure a plan in a fragment of time

Neighbors call, they spotted the herd

They offer assistance and comforting words

My best friend rang up, with no hesitation to help

I gather my leads and collect myself

A short distance drive finds the herd at peace

Grazing on grass, through the snow it does peek

Rattle the feed can catch their attention

Clip them up youngest to oldest

Amazed by the daring of the feeble old mare

I guess I misjudged her, she has plenty of flair

We walk horses in hand back to the farm

A shy neighbor lady tends to my son and car

A nightmare of a situation made easy as pie

Thankful for kind neighbors and my best friend for life

I wrote the above poem back in the winter of 2009. On that day I was awoken from a sound sleep by the frantic whinnying of my old thoroughbred mare and the barking of my pack of misfit dogs. Sleepily, I peered out the window and saw the retired racehorse galloping around the pasture screaming for her herd mates. At that moment my heart sank and my mind sprang into action. I had to wake my son, then 3 years old, to get him dressed and ready to head out into the cold. As I did that, neighbors from around the corner started calling. They spotted the horses. I told them I’d be up as soon as possible to grab them. But what could I, a solitary woman with a toddler, do to get three horses back home? That question was easily answered. I called my best horsey friend, Tara, who is always willing to help in an emergency. While I waited for her to arrive I retrieved feed and halters from the barn and loaded them into the back of my Subaru wagon. Then I buckled Logan into his car seat and informed the neighbors that we were on our way.

The three rogue mares were all busy eating grass that was poking up through the snow. The sweet lady who owned the property joked that it was a good thing she didn’t mow her lawn before winter arrived. Her across-the-street neighbor told me that all his kids loved watching the horses while waiting for the school bus. Fortunately, the sweet feed I had in hand was more enticing than the last remnants of green grass. We quickly haltered the pony, undoubtedly the ring leader, and her accomplices. Then the five of us headed home followed by the kind neighbor transporting Logan in my Subaru.

I hadn’t thought about that incident for many years. Truth be told I’d rather not think about runaway episodes like that because they induce anxiety and I prefer not to live with that kind of added stress. Sure the Houdini pony would get out on occasion but she never roamed the neighborhood. And maybe someone would forget to lock a gate and I would find a horse on the lawn. But a full-on freedom fest hasn’t happened…….that is until the wee morning hours of Thursday, May 21, 2020.

Now, you may already know that I love to wake up to the sweet sound of bird songs, but on this particular morning, I was startled awake by the trumpeting calls of all three current horses. Two of them came from the pasture in front of the house while one sounded as if it was coming from the woods behind the house. I sprinted down the stairs and out the door. That old familiar feeling of my heart sinking took over my body when I noticed that the missing horse was the half-blind draft cross. How did the biggest horse get out but the other two were contained and frantically pacing the fence line? A quick inspection of the pasture proved that not a single board was broken nor gate was open. The pasture was secure but yet I had a horse missing and all of them were panicking.

I had to be the cool-headed one, but first I had to warm up my body. I was outside shivering in thirty-something degrees wearing only my pajamas. Before I was going to head out into the woods I would have to grab at least a jacket. Once I was back in the house I had to decide whether or not I should wake the kids. I opted not to disrupt their slumber. They aren’t babies after all and motivating them would have cost me valuable time. If my ears served me right then the horse wouldn’t be too far from the house. As I stepped back out onto the porch I saw a white sports car pulling into my driveway. A pretty young woman rolled down the driver’s side window and asked if I was missing a horse. I told her yes and she told me she saw him but wasn’t able to catch him. She offered me a ride and without hesitation I accepted, but first I ran to the barn for a halter and lead rope.

My internal dialogue during this time was a funny one. First I was concerned that my horse was waking up the neighborhood. What time was it anyway? Then I felt a wave of embarrassment because there I was in my bag lady chic pajamas, dirty Carhartt jacket, and no doubt sporting my usual wild woman morning hair. Silly right? But I got over myself because there was a girl also in her PJs pulling into a stranger’s driveway looking for the owner of a loose horse.

As soon as I sat in the passenger seat I asked her if the horse woke her up. She assured me that he didn’t because she works overnights from home. A short distance drive up the road and around the corner found the big guy munching on the lawn of the vacant home that sits just a short walk through the woods from my house. My young savior pulled into the driveway and parked the car. I told her that I didn’t need her help but she offered to wait just in case. As soon as the gelding heard my voice he raised his massive head and turned his good eye towards me. I calmly walked up to him, easily slipped his halter on, clipped on the lead, and walked him up the driveway to the parked car so I could once again thank the young woman before she drove away to her home just up the road.

There we stood assessing each other. I gave him a visual once over and ran my hand down each of his legs to check for any signs of lameness or abrasion. He gave me his usual full body rub with his head. Maybe that was his form of an apology for jump-starting my heart. We walked out into the road and were greeted by a couple whose kids go to school with my kids. They had spotted the horse when he ran past their house. The wife told me she messaged me about the horse running down the road wondering if it belonged to me. I never read the text because I was already out the door looking for him. I didn’t ask but I assumed that they were out for the same reason as me - to catch a horse. At least they weren’t in their pajamas. What time was it anyway? Maybe not as early as I thought.

There we were, one exhausted from running free and the other from stress, a sight to behold as we strolled on down the road. Once we reached the entrance to my driveway the other horses let out their reunion whinnies. Everyone was back where they belonged. I opened the gate, led the runaway to the barn, and locked him in his paddock. Someone was going to be in a time-out for as long as it would take me to find the breach in the perimeter. But first I was due either a nap or a cup of coffee. He was going to have all day to think about his actions.

I walked into my darkened kitchen. The house was completely still. I looked at the microwave clock. 6:04! No wonder my kids didn’t wake up when I was screaming my fool head off calling for the horse. My first thought was, “I have to share this with Tara.” As expected she was awake and responded right away to my message. After some witty back and forth about being awoken by the “fire alarm”, the horse, the chill, my PJs, and the possibility of having a pissed-off lawn-obsessed neighbor I made myself a cup of coffee, grabbed the cats, and climbed under the covers. I wasn’t going to move until I warmed up. At least I was smiling.

I’m not going to lie. The stress got to me. It’s all the what-ifs that ran through my head while the horse was missing. From start to finish it couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes or so, but it felt like an eternity. What if he injured himself? What if a car hit him? What if someone died because of a collision? Did he cause property damage? If he got out on the pond side of the property, is that neighbor going to flip his lid over holes in his lawn? The man has done it in the past.

I spent the day completely drained but managed to locate the possible escape route at the far end of the pasture. It is the only area without a wooden fence because the ground is too wet and rocky to use the post hole digger. This area still has the old wire fence original to the farm. My massive animal has some finesse because he managed to pick his way along a narrow deer trail that required him to go over the downed wire fence, a stone wall, and through the brush. The adventure he had is all speculative and not worth wondering about. He was found unharmed and no one has called to complain. As far as I’m concerned this escapade will get stored away with all others of its kind.

Worrying about all the things that could have gone wrong during the wee hours of the morning won’t serve me. After all, no harm came from the big guy feeling his oats for a little while. He had the adventure of a lifetime and got some serious exercise. The mare and the other gelding also got a workout while racing along the fence line. I, once again, had my faith in my fellow humans confirmed. I later realized that the young woman who helped me was no stranger. She and her family lived in a house across the street from the one she now rents with some friends. She would have been in middle school when my three mares went for their walkabout. I wouldn’t be surprised if she while waiting for the school bus, was also entertained by them roaming the neighborhood all those years ago. But on this day she wasn’t some little girl; she was nothing less than amazing because she cared enough to leave her house and go looking for a lost horse’s owner. She gave me two great gifts, relief, and company, during what can only be described as an effortless horse retrieval made possible by her kindness.

There isn’t much to wonder about with this story. Simply put, most people are more than happy to help out. I’ve done my fair share of stray animal wrangling throughout the years. A few years ago some neighbors, my kids, and I helped move a herd of ten horses and a goat back through the nature preserves and across the creek to their farm. And when the horses came back a second time we gladly helped again. That’s the beauty of people. We don’t need to be the best of friends to help each other (although having a best friend like mine is pretty great). We don’t even need to know each other. All we need is empathy.

The face of trouble. But it's cute.