Thursday, January 19, 2006, 20:19
Shadows
After being around my Morgan-Arab cross for the past 18 years, I finally have proof of what I suspected about the horse all along. He has always been flighty and jumpy and untrustworthy and generally lacking in common sense. I knew that if he was handled by the wrong person or ridden by the wrong person, he would most likely seriously injure someone.
And now I know beyond a doubt that what I suspected is really true.
He is afraid of his own shadow.
Although it is cloudy today with occasional snow flurries, the weather is unsettled enough that this morning, the sun came out from behind the clouds for just a few seconds.
I had given both horses hay and grain, carried warm water for Kajun, and got fresh water for Isabelle. When I was finished with Isabelle's water, I went back to the barn, intending to clean up Kajun's manure and throw it on the pile on the other side of the fence.
I walked into the barn, crawled through the fence, retrieved the stall picker from the corner where I keep it, and turned around. It was at this point that the sun came out briefly and was shining in through the barn door.
The sunshine threw a shadow of Kajun on the wall in front of him where he was eating his hay.
He took one look at his own shadow -- and almost fell down in his haste to get out of the barn. Then he stood in the doorway, snorting and looking at the wall mistrustfully.
By this time, of course, the sun had gone behind the clouds again and the shadow was gone.
It was many long minutes before Kajun felt brave enough to come back into the barn to resume eating his hay.
If the whole thing wasn't so pathetic, it would be funny. But I cannot laugh at the poor horse. His nervousness and lack of common sense have made him a danger to himself -- and to anyone else around him.
I have spent the last 18 years working with him, trying to get him over his fear of the world. But I have not gotten very far, and it is no wonder that I was always uncomfortable taking him out from trail rides by myself, which I probably should not have done. I suppose it is only by the grace of God that I did not end up tossed off into the bushes somewhere with a broken neck --- just because a chipmunk ran across the path in front of us.
I wish I knew what to do to take some of the burden away from Kajun so that he would not feel like he has to be so afraid of everything. But if there is a solution, I have not yet found it after 18 years of searching.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Wednesday, January 18, 2006, 19:37
Scenes from Yesteryear
You would think that I would be old enough by now to not be surprised by the changes that take place in a landscape over time.
This morning, however, as I took the dogs for a walk, I couldn't help thinking about how much the fields had changed since I was a kid.
For instance, one spot used to be open field where my dad planted corn or soybeans or alfalfa.
The wooded hillside also used to be a hayfield and so was the spot where large box elder grow now.
And the small trees where we cut Christmas trees (highlighted in stories in my book "Christmas in Dairyland" ) are now towering red pine.
And then there is the place where, going up a hill, I fell off the hay wagon and was nearly run over by the wagon. The load was almost full, and I wanted to get as much on it as possible so that my dad would have a chance to drive up to the top of the hill where it was flat and we could more easily stop and unhook the wagon.
As I threw a bale up on the stack behind me, the wagon jolted and I fell face forward on the ground. Lucky for me that Dad had quick reflexes and was watching closely. Otherwise I might not be here today telling you about the incident. The only thing that happened was that I caught my leg on the baler chute, put a big gash in the back of my thigh -- and tore my favorite pants into ribbons.
Trees get bigger, people plant deer corn instead of corn as a crop to feed cows or to sell, and the cultivated fields turn into unused fields thick with thatch.
But at least I can still see those places, and I can take my dogs for walks around those places. And no matter how much the landscape changes, it will always be tied to my heart, a place I call home, a place where my roots can push into the soil, and where I can reach for the sky.
LeAnn R. Ralph
