There is a new horse in the field behind the house. I think he must be young. He is certainly wild. It is as if the other horses school him, try to calm him. I have seen one, the black horse with a rather dull coat, corral him, separate him and mete out hefty kicks and bites.
This could be jealousy, I suppose. Why not? I don’t contend with dumb animals. I think they are as capable of emotion as you or I. Especially horses. Surely you can see love, loyalty, trust in their eyes? then they are capable of the opposite. Although they say horses’ bad temper is due to bad treatment.
This new horse let’s call him Joey, is eye candy. I’ve watched the sun on his auburn coat as he prances he’s never still; perhaps Nijinsky would be a better name. Yes I’ll call him Nijinsky. Muscled haunch, fine legs and when he praces and runs, it takes your breath away: a gold streak searching the confines of the field.
It’s as if he has a message to impart. The other horses watch him, I’ve seen them. Especially the mare. He unsettles them makes them frisky too. So sometimes they are all thundering through the field and the noise of their hooves like a drum beat thrums my chest. The freedom. They could jump the fence if they wanted, especially Nijinsky. I guess he just doesn’t want to. He can put up with the occasional kick from old blacky it’s not so bad to have your food delivered, to have the run of the field. That is their life. They may dream of running Great Plains in America or Arabia but they are for working or for sport. This one is not a plough horse or a worker. Too pretty too fine. Perhaps someone will realise what they’ve got. Someone who knows and loves horses surely would appreciate him.
I spend a lot of time watching him.
The other day he was tethered the whole day. He stood in the rain tied and tethered with his mouth in a bit . They’re going to kill him. Kill his spirit at least. That is the objective for some. He was too highly strung to be of use, so instead of letting him go, they would rather subdue, tame, break his spirit.
I can’t watch him now. There is no joy now, no prancing, no exciting the others to run wild and free with him. He is docile. Soon he will be meting out kicks to the next new comer till that horse learns to pull the plough, to fit in not to stand out.