Snowflake's Story

Friday -- A Bully in My Pasture
April 8, 2005

It rained all night. The pastures are a mucky mess. Foster Mom feeds me and let me out with Whitney because the rain seems to have stopped. It is gray and overcast. She wants to introduce me to the two younger geldings, but she is nervous. She decides to put Whiskey in with us. He is a seven year old Percheron X. He is huge, almost double my weight. But he is the lowest member of the herd and Mom thinks he might be submissive and docile. At first Whiskey shows little interest in me. I just keep my distance and twirl when he comes by. Things settle down and we all munch grass. After all, we have nosed each other across the fence for quite a few days now. Foster Mom goes inside. Soon she hears the thunder of hooves and knows that trouble is afoot. I have galloped all the way across the pasture to the other side of the pond. Whiskey is in hot pursuit. I'm worried and scared. I don't want to be driven away from the herd. I've gone as far as I can so I turn around and gallop as fast as I can to the other side, by Whitney.

Some researchers say that it is a horses primal instinct to run off the weak and the old. They might weaken the herd and make it more vulnerable to attacks. But I think Whiskey has just figured out that I am old and he can boss me around. Maybe he wants Whitney for himself. Maybe I am still a stranger to him....a threat. I don't know for sure, but when horses and people have been under submission and they find another that will submit to them, some take that power and abuse it. Repression Rebellion. That makes Whiskey a bully.

I sneak around in a far away arc, keeping my eye on Whiskey. He is eating hay, but his ears are back and his eye is on me. When he can't stand it anymore he start galloping straight for me, I turn and run all the way on the other side of the pond. When foster Mom yells, Whiskey stops chasing me. He goes back to his hay, but as I approach I see the same eyes fixed on me and ready to chase me away. Foster Mom sees this too and get a halter to bring me in. I am sweating and out of breath. It has started to rain again. She fills my water and hay and leaves me to rest until dinner.

Dinner is served in those small wet amounts again. And I got my first dose of wormer tonight. It's not so bad. I know it will make me healthier and help me gain weight faster. I only have to take it for four more nights. UGH! Mom brushes the hardened sweat out of my coat. I am still shedding like crazy. Foster Mom ends up with more hair on her than I have left on me. She leaves me for the evening. She smells much like one of my horse friends, with all that hair on her and manure on her boots. Wonder why she enjoys this horse husbandry?

Foster Dad comes out late, like he does every night. He checks on me, fills my water and gives me more hay if I need it. (I almost always need it, which means I am eating well. This makes him happy.) This is our special time. Guy Time...you know....