Ghosts of Horses Past in Salem Part 7

Part 1

Don't ask me what I was thinking! Other than this Arabian horse needed help, I'm not sure what was going through my mind. Somehow I put aside any feelings of danger and told myself I needed to catch this horse.

My mind raced with how I might catch a horse that didn't want to be caught . John Lyons round pen reasoning came to mind. can you believe it? (God bless John!) I picked up the halter and lead rope and looked for an opening to go into the arena completely ignoring the warning this stallion had sent.

When I saw an opportunity to get through the door and get it safely closed, I made my move. Once inside I began making lots of noise, waving my arms and that halter and lead, getting as big as I could get. I pushed that Arabian horse down the arena. I think my bravado caught him off guard.

The horse hadn't expected me to challenge him and the stallion wasn't quite sure what to think.Luckily for me, he didn't think much, he just reacted.The horse ran back a half dozen steps and then reared screaming at me. I screamed back and ran towards him and he turned tail and ran. From that point on he was just another horse that didn't want to be caught.

Don't ask me where this approach came from because I haven't a clue. All I know is I just did it and it worked. Maybe it came from my experiences with Heiress. Chasing her into a corner always got her attention and it sure worked with this stallion.

Once I had diffused the stallion's rage.I still had to deal with him not wanting to be caught. I worked the horse just like he had worked that mare. I didn't let him stop unless I wanted him to. I made him travel the direction I wanted him to travel. I kept pushing him until he wanted to stop. When he did, I took a couple of steps back and rewarded him for standing still.

The whole time my mind raced with what was too much. The stallion was soaked with lather and sweat from head to tail. How tired was this horse? How much could he take before he dropped dead? Would he give up or die first? I knew I had to be precise. I had to get control of this horse soon.

I don't know how long it took but eventually I was able to walk up and halter the horse. As the horse stood still the sweat streamed off of him forming puddles on the ground. I have never seen a horse as hot as either of these two horses on this night.

The stallion was heaving struggling for breath just like the mare had been so I followed the same instructions I had given the night watchman. I kept the horse walking. He was slipping into shock. I could tell by the look in his eyes. Just like that mare, I knew this horse had to keep moving. Thankfully the horse dropped his head and walked obediently next to me.

By the time the show manager arrived the horse was nearly dry. His breathing had returned to a normal rate and he was acting like he was just another horse. It was hard to believe what had transpired looking at the horse in front of me. But if anyone had any doubts they only had to look at that mare.

As for me, I was chilled to the bone and shaking violently. Looking back at it, I think that I, too, must have been going into shock. Once the show manager finally came and took over the responsibility of both horses, I crashed and crashed hard. I still had to take care of my own horse. So I went and hung water buckets and threw him some hay. I would move in the rest of my stuff in the morning.

After that I only stuck around long enough to find out about the condition of the mare. The vet had given her a thorough once over and thought she was going to be ok as long as she didn't colic or founder from all the stress. Of course, she had multiple bite wounds that would have to be treated and she was put on antibiotics because of the likelihood of infection. Other than that both horses were badly bruised. Thankfully there were no leg injuries from all their crashing around on the concrete and asphalt floors.

I learned the next day that both horses were actually owned by the same person, a small breeder like myself. The stallion who had gone berserk was a sweet horse that even her ten year old could lead. The mare was a maiden and she had not been in season. Who knew what got this whole thing started but it was a night I will never forget.

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