Equine Torture Device Found
August SEAHA note from the editor
They say a mule, like the elephant, never forgets. Horace has something in the dim, black and white reaches of his memory that tells him any horse-drawn conveyance is made for equine torture. I learned about his demons in my neighborhood, where the occasional buggy, wagon or surrey is sometimes seen. When Horace sees them (blocks away) he always reacts the same way; he goes into "full point", with radar-ears marking the target instead of the cocked paw of the hunting dog. He snorts a few times loud enough to be heard yards away, then he spins and trots the other direction. This rider cannot get him near the mule-monster; sometimes that particular block is off-limits for days, just to be sure. Several of us SEAHA members went to cool, wet Flagstaff last weekend and stayed at the Elden horse camp. All was well until the end of the last day when the lady in the adjacent camp hitched up a previously hidden meadowbrook cart to her white pony. Horace did everything in his power to initiate step three of his reaction. The highline creaked and popped but seemed to hold as he pulled, kicked, and maypoled around the tree at the end of the line. He wasn't panicked, but would unwind himself, point/snort and wind back around the tree the other way. To make things better I moved him to join Scott and Christine's horses further away. Moving him back to my camp the next morning was no simple task. Though the cart was again out of site, and the white pony was still alive in it's corral, getting him into the area was like towing a horse trailer by hand. Tied to a hitching post to prevent the maypole game, he decided to dig his way out of danger. He pawed and pawed, alternating feet and bobbing his head. The easy boots I had not yet messed with removing came off in a jiffy. Every time he would calm down the lady would walk by the camp for some reason. Yes, he recognized her too. She was the torture-master. At least for once he loaded into the trailer nicely. "Get me outta here!" Whatever happened to this 20-year old mule before I got him I wish he could forget.
They say a mule, like the elephant, never forgets. Horace has something in the dim, black and white reaches of his memory that tells him any horse-drawn conveyance is made for equine torture. I learned about his demons in my neighborhood, where the occasional buggy, wagon or surrey is sometimes seen. When Horace sees them (blocks away) he always reacts the same way; he goes into "full point", with radar-ears marking the target instead of the cocked paw of the hunting dog. He snorts a few times loud enough to be heard yards away, then he spins and trots the other direction. This rider cannot get him near the mule-monster; sometimes that particular block is off-limits for days, just to be sure. Several of us SEAHA members went to cool, wet Flagstaff last weekend and stayed at the Elden horse camp. All was well until the end of the last day when the lady in the adjacent camp hitched up a previously hidden meadowbrook cart to her white pony. Horace did everything in his power to initiate step three of his reaction. The highline creaked and popped but seemed to hold as he pulled, kicked, and maypoled around the tree at the end of the line. He wasn't panicked, but would unwind himself, point/snort and wind back around the tree the other way. To make things better I moved him to join Scott and Christine's horses further away. Moving him back to my camp the next morning was no simple task. Though the cart was again out of site, and the white pony was still alive in it's corral, getting him into the area was like towing a horse trailer by hand. Tied to a hitching post to prevent the maypole game, he decided to dig his way out of danger. He pawed and pawed, alternating feet and bobbing his head. The easy boots I had not yet messed with removing came off in a jiffy. Every time he would calm down the lady would walk by the camp for some reason. Yes, he recognized her too. She was the torture-master. At least for once he loaded into the trailer nicely. "Get me outta here!" Whatever happened to this 20-year old mule before I got him I wish he could forget.
posted by Garrett | 8:52 PM
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