Equine Indifference

By: Sharon K. Shubert

(Previously published by Pottsboro Press and by The Denison Herald)

Driving down a well-traveled country road outside the ever growing town where we live, one Sunday afternoon, I stopped at a horse ranch to admire the view. It was a gorgeous, sunny day, spring-like in late December.

I climbed atop the cold, gray fence surrounding the acres and acres of colorless pasture, settling myself a short distance from two copper-colored horses. They stood lazily in the warm sun. Their winter coats were thick and uncombed. They stood resting first one foot, then another, eyes half-closed, ignoring my approach. A cool breeze fluttered their long, tangled mane. A faint smell of wood smoke and manure mingled in the air.

Beyond a small grove of leafless trees cows lay in groups chewing their cud. Behind them stood a sprawling monster of a gray, rock house. A few yards away were rows of white, empty corrals and stately barns which housed the animals.

I greeted the horses, snapping my fingers and calling to them. They glanced at me, then turned away to nibble on dried, winter grass. I sat on the fence as cars whizzed by, waiting for the horses to acknowledge my presence. They hardly moved, except to swish away the swarms of gnats and flies with coarse, bushy tails from time to time.

The minutes ticked by. A blackbird perched in a tree overhead called his greeting to anyone who cared to listen. Echos of children playing drifted across the tree tops. An airplane buzzed noisily overhead, drowning out my voice as I tried to coax the horses to approach.

"Come here, you pretty thing!" I urged the smaller of the two gently. He turned and looked at me with unblinking almond-shaped eyes, took a couple of dawdling steps towards me, then stopped and again nibbled on the crunchy, brown grass.

The bright, orange sun was dropping behind the trees; the afternoon almost gone. Shivering, I climbed down from my perch and gathered handfuls of grass and weeds growing beside the road. Clicking my tongue and whistling, I waved the treat, but failed to get either of the horses' attention. I turned and walked a few steps, then looked back. The horses were as immobile as ever.

Getting back in my car, I sat for a few moments to watch the splendor of orange and blue streaks appearing in the sky. Driving off, disappointed at my failure to arouse the horses' curiosity, I glanced in my rearview mirror just in time to see them both wildly galloping off across the pasture into the sunset.

HOME