Horses in Love, continued
...
I kept on walking circles in the center,
mumbling "Hey, hey-ey, it's o-kay-ay-ay, this i-i-is verrry
bo-or-ing." Eventually the mustangs -- Charlie calls them
brumbies -- slowed. They hesitated from time to time, then came
to a halt with their rumps turned toward me. If I drew too close,
their body language told me they might throw double-barreled
kicks at me.
If she were fat, she would
go for $65 per hundredweight. Thin as she was -- maybe $40?
I let out a ragged breath. I felt they
were no longer likely to stampede over me and make the catwalk
viewing worth the drive into town.
I sensed that a yearling was growing interested
in me. From time to time she turned her head toward me. "Hey,
hey-ey-ey, it's okay-ay-ay," I murmured deep in my throat
over and over again, tying to talk to her like a dam comforting
her foal. I cautiously drew my gaze across her body. She didn't
flinch.
Just how comfortable had she become with
me? I sidled across the herd's invisible line. They bolted, like
a school of fish that turns as one. The yearling filly seemed
half-hearted about joining the panic. I watched her gait as she
loped, then slowed to trot, then walk. No limping. She was sound.
She lagged behind the others, moved out
closer to the center. Soon she let me get so close I could almost
touch her.
That was when I realized she had weepy
eyes. I told myself that perhaps it wasn't a serious health problem.
What counted was she had the most promising personality of the
group. Cleaned up, gentled, with brown striped on gold, and cream
Appaloosa spots on her rump, she might bring good money.
I still hadn't made a decision to bid on
her. I climbed out of their pen and headed south to see
a tall, big-boned gray mare. Horse feathers
booted her feet. I figured she was a Shire draft horse. Her distended
belly told me she was in foal. Her protruding ribs and hip bones
suggested the killer buyers wouldn't bid her price too high.
Folks in France and Belgium prefer their imported horse steaks
extra large. She would have to spend a few weeks on the feed
lot before she would qualify for their dinner plates.
If she were fat, she would go for $65 per
hundredweight. Thin as she was -- maybe $40? My practiced eye
told me than despite her condition, she would come in at over
1500 pounds. She was easily the largest horse there.
I pictured her sleek and powerful, wearing
Medieval finery. I was an organizer of Middle Ages style equestrian
competitions. She would be awesome in a game of Saracen Heads.
More --->>
