Snowflake's Story

My Third Weekend -- Tough as Nails
April 18, 2005

Although I normally love the weekends with my foster family, this one left something to be desired. Saturday was a calm, uneventful day. Sunday was "one of those days".

Foster Mom thought that maybe my run-in with the bully, Whiskey, was an anomally. She says she has put many horses together in pastures over the years and never seen one act like Whiskey did the other day. She wants all five of us to be a herd in the same pasture. Most horses will sort out the heirarchy and live peacefully together. Also, if all of us are in one pasture, she uses the pasture rotation technique to maintain healthy pastures.

So she puts Whiskey in my pasture with one of the mares. It didn't take long before he tried to kill me. AGAIN.

Even though I stayed on the farthest side of the pasture, acting submissive and terrified that he would come after me, it happened. He chased me several times and stopped. Foster Mom and Dad were nervously watching. Whiskey played it cool for a while. Whitney was watching from afar, but it is not her role to protect me......just to lead our herd and make us respect her. So he came after me, fast and relentless. I ran as fast as my old legs could go. When I got to the end of the fence at the top of the hill, he was still galloping behind me and gaining fast. I whirled and ran down the hill toward the new culvert, Whiskey caught up and agressively sunk his teeth into my butt. I stumbled and fell down hard on my side and slid part-way under the electric fence. Mom and Dad were screaming. Dad was closer, but the electric fence was on. I laid there, motionless, for what seemed an eternity.

Whiskey had moved off as soon as I went crashing down. Mom was sure I was dead. She was screaming and running to turn off the fence. She got a big halter and was running to catch Whiskey and get him out of my pasture. I had a hard time getting up. I was on a slope with me feet uphill and under the electric fence. Somehow, I got up slowly and dazed. I shook some mud off of me and started walking slowly toward Mom. I was looking over my shoulder nervously to see if Whisky would attempt another attack. Mom got to me first and haltered me and led me out of the pasture. We were both shaking with fear.

She calmed me down by walking me in the yard, far away from Whiskey in his pasture. Anytime we got to close to his pasture, I wanted to turn and try get away. Even though a fence was separting us, I didn't want to see him. I wanted to hide behind the horse trailer where that mean bully would never see me. Foster Mom saw some blood on me and I was covered in mud. She promised me she would never again put me near that horse. She said she was sorry over and over and over again. It was 70 degrees and she decided a nice bath would make me feel better and cleanse my wounds, which amazingly amounted to a few small scrapes and cuts.

The bath was wonderfull. My body is full of icky black specks of cruds embedded in the base of my hair. It is hard to get out even with shampoo and a hose. Most of the black crud is coming out when my hair comes out in big chunks. My skin looks like a Chinese Crested dog's skin. But in a few days my bare patches will be filling in with my thin summer coat. It will take many baths and much more shedding for my transformation to occur.

So, after the bath I am allowed to graze in the yard with my marefriends. I am still a little leery of Whiskey and I want to stay close to Rainey and Whitney. We had just finished drinking water near the barn and we dozed a little. When I woke up Whitney and Rainey has gone around the embankment next to the barn and were grazing in front of me. There is a 3 foot drop off from the cement pad I am standing on to the area where my friends are grazing. I could have walked around 10 feet to the right of where I am standing, but I decide to jump DOWN from the cement pad into the area below. Mom senses my intentions and says WHOA and NO and HO and STOP, but being of BRAVEHEART, I jump down like a 7 year old event horse. Well, not quite. My knees buckle, my nose hits the ground and breaks my fall. Mom is terrified that I am hurt. Twice in one day! She sees me get up, I limp a little on my left foreleg. She assumes the worst, sickened that I have hurt myself on her watch and it could be serious....broken leg? torn tendons?

Within a few steps, the limp is gone. I shake myself out and carry on....a little stunned but, now they know, I am as tough as nails. My body shows the scars of my last 26 years, but I always have survived. I don't dwell on the past and all that has befallen me. I live in the moment; that is all any of us really have.

By the time the shock has worn off my Foster Mom, she notices that I have blood in my mouth. She takes a look and notices my inner lips are torn up. I may have chipped or broken one or more of my incizors. They were in pretty terrible shape anyway. The bleeding is slowing down and there is not much that can be done at this time. By now, Foster Mom now knows that I am good coagulator.

I am put in a safe pasture with my marefriends. I may not be allowed to graze in the yard anymore, it might be to dangerous. Soon, I am brought in the barn for dinner. Foster folks want to make sure I can still eat in case I did damage my teeth. I eat but I may be dropping a little more grain than usual. After 6 lbs of grain, I munch on hay. I can't be hurt too bad. I am put out in the pasture for the night with my safe marefriends.

I think my Foster Parents would be happy if I didn't have anything to report in my BLOG. At least not this kind of news. Have you ever had one of these days?