A couple of weeks ago I was heading out to do the nighttime feeding (of all creatures great and small) when I heard my mother-in-law calling to me from her yard. "One of your horses is out!" I looked up in alarm, naturally. Surely if one was out the rest would be close behind. Luckily, it was Tyrone, the big Tennessee Walker that has no use for boundaries. As much as the others may want to follow his lead sometimes, very few ever do. I think they are stopped by one of two things; either they know Ty can simply leap tall fences in a single bound (and they can't so much or are too lazy), or they don't want to be caught following the low man on the totem pole anywhere - brilliant escape plan or not. So there stood the big beast calmly trimming our ever-so-patient neighbors' perfect lawn. (The soccer-field neighbor, not the not-so-nices' obviously) Apparently it was just too much for him to be in a nearly grass-less existence with all that tantalizing green so close. The fence line that separates our yards is simply ancient - it consists of cedar posts, some cedar rails, and a LOT of wire animal fencing. We haven't replaced anything there yet and it's weak spots are significant. My mother-in-law said she watched Ty pushing his head further and further through the fence, stretching his lips out to nibble the grass until she heard a crack. He broke the top rail, stood there for a minute and then stepped right over into their yard. The other horses were tearing around, rearing up, kicking, and generally just having a great time seeing one of their own on the outside, unaccompanied. The youngest mare, who is slightly less-than-graceful at times literally fell and slid at least twice (that I saw). 'All riled up' is the term that comes to mind. If any one of them had broken free anywhere - let alone in a field of grass - they would be nearly impossible to catch single-handedly. Tyrone, however, is that kid that's just not like the others.
It's not just the fact that his ears are a bit donkey-ish, it's not his fault, just his breed. I swear if he could talk his voice would come out sounding just like Eeyore's. Very sweet, but maybe a little dopey. So he just stood and waited for me to get almost up to his neck and then began to meander away with Izzy bolting around his feet yapping.
When we were almost to the back end of our neighbor's property, and passing our hay barn a white flash flew in front of us. It seriously took me a minute to figure out what it was, and then it dawned on me - Bunny the flying goat. I never knew she could jump through the space between the animal fencing and the barb-wire on the backside of her pen. In fact, I don't she realized it until that moment. She does this to herself no less than once every other day:
Then I have to spend an agonizing five minutes or so trying to get her head twisted just the right way to get her head
and horns back through the fence - all so she can jubilantly ram me with her new-found freedom.
So, really, who knew?
And so, Ty kept meandering, Izzy kept yapping, I kept walking, and Bunny followed us all - except for the break she took every 30 seconds or so to stop and stand in front of me, or head-butt my thigh, or chase Izzy. (Why do we have a goat again? Oh yeah, it's cute. Almost forgot.) Ty rambled all the way out of their yard onto the covered canal where he turned South, and where at least it's fenced off at the end of our property. I breathed a sigh of relief. If he would have turned the other direction we could have been in for a long walk, and who knows what other random farm animals we would have picked up. He came to a rolling stop at the fence and let me halter him and lead him back all the way through our neighbors' yard, onto the street, around through my mother-in-law's yard, and finally back where we started. Remember, this me leading a horse whose back I literally can't see over, circled by a loud and annoying goat, chased by a yapping, jumping Terrier that suddenly thinks she's herding sheep. My only consolation is that (to the best of my knowledge) no one captured this twisted-pied-piper scene on tape. And this is where the story should end, except it doesn't. Because apparently I'm slow.
Back in the pasture I lost hold of the rope when I was latching the gate behind us - and Ty once again meandered off. Dragging his lead rope. Not a good thing. About that time he realized how excited all the other horses were and he decided to take a victory lap around the pasture. Not that big of a deal, really. UNTIL Bunny decided to play interference. Every time I got close to catching the little (big) twit Bunny was suddenly in front of me head-butting me or jumping sideways in the way only a goat (or a moron) would. Sideways, seriously. Finally I had to grab her and drag her off (making ridiculous choking noises, the big faker) just to get to my original mark.
In the end everyone was returned to their proper place. I even fed them.
