I am wafted into consciousness by a gentle breeze across my face. I open my eyes and the familiar replaces random images from an already forgotten dream. The cracks in the plaster of the ceiling above my bed; the soft movement of the curtain of the west facing window through which the breeze is coming; the square of orange light cast from the rising sun through the window to the north with its curtain only covering the bottom half.
Lying on my back in bed under a light cover, I am in perfect balance feeling neither cold nor hot. My internal furnace seems on standby. It is the state where you are not aware of your body. Pia is lying beside me but her steady breathing tells me she is in a deep sleep.
As more neurons begin to fire, I focus on the light from the rising sun on the wall. This is a north-facing window! I try to visualize the position of the earth in relation to the sun. The North Pole is tilted towards the sun but how precisely does it work? The earth spins around on its axis but this axis changes as the earth revolves around the sun. The sun appears to go around the earth as the sun rises and sets every day. The apparent movement of the sun is east to west but since it is the earth that spins it turns into the sun west to east. We don't feel the earth spinning, all we see is the sun rising and setting. What we perceive can be explained equally well by mechanism where the sun circles the earth or the earth spins but only one is correct. Perception and reality may not be the same. Does it really matter? But how do we sense that the earth revolves around the sun? Well, the seasons, the tilted axis. It is too much, too early in the morning; thinking about more than one variable that interact is complex!
The curtain now makes a flapping sound. Has the breeze intensified? On clear days there often seems to be a gentle breeze from the west as the sun rises. I have frequently wondered if this is a result of the sun warming the air, which then rises pulling in air causing the breeze from the west to replace the rising air. I am lost in contemplation as my brain slowly becomes active. My thoughts turn to my horse, Bucephalus. He is out in the field somewhere, no doubt fully awake when the sun rose.
I slide from under the cover not to wake Pia. As my naked body emerges and is touched by the cool morning breeze I gain full consciousness. I walk to the window and look out towards the west. I sense this is going to be a good day, a good day for a long ride on Bucephalus.
»
Our farm is a mere stones-throw from salt water, that’s when the tide is in, the famous Fundy tide. Then we can see the “ocean” down in the Habitant inlet. When the tide is out you see the mud, massive amounts of glistening mud ringed by salt grass. With a twelve to thirteen meter difference between high and low tide there are extensive mudflats exposed when the tide is out. Standing by the edge of the flats you cannot see the “ocean”. The Bay of Fundy is known around the world for its high tide, the highest in the world. The amount of water moving back and forth in the Bay of Fundy on a daily basis is equivalent to the flow of water in all the rivers of the world.
The tidal height in the Bay of Fundy is so extreme because of something called resonance. This is a relationship between the length of the bay and the time between high and low tide. The to and fro of the tidal flow in Bay of Fundy is like the movement of water in a narrow container being tilted back and forth. The timing of this is what intensifies the tidal height. It is like two waves meeting which doubles in height.
The Minas Basin, at the head of the Annapolis Valley, is just down the road to the east. North Mountain and South Mountain border the broad valley. North Mountain is a long ridge of basalt that rises from the valley floor and runs from Cape Split southwest down to Digby where it becomes the Digby Neck and terminates in Brier Island. South Mountain is more accurately called an upland, which parallels North Mountain.
Way back in geological time, just over four hundred million years ago two major continents, North and South America and Africa and Europe were separated by the Iapetus Sea. These two continental plates were moving towards each other at not much more than a few centimetres per year. Eventually they collided. The force involved in this collision was so great that a folding took place creating a mountain range. Over millions of years wind and water eroded this range and all that is left in this region now is South Mountain, or more correctly the Southern Uplands.
Pangea was the single continent that resulted from this collision. At the time, Nova Scotia’s location was just south of the equator. After eons, a little over two hundred million years ago, Pangea started to split up into a number of landmasses that slowly separated. Present North America separated from Europe and Africa. Part of the fissure that was created ran up what we now call the Bay of Fundy. It was during this event that basalt was extruded and covered the sandstone, which overlaid shale. This basalt ridge we now call North Mountain. North Mountain is no more than a high ridge, it is not rugged, there are only exposed rock faces to speak off, it is only 200 metres high but to the people of the Annapolis Valley it is a mountain, it is their mountain.
Eventually the fissure, the tear separating North America and Africa ceased and another tear started further to the east leaving what is now Nova Scotia attached to North America. When geologists examine the rock types in southern parts of Nova Scotia there are distinct similarities with the rock types of Morocco in north-western Africa. The rock type in Cape Breton is similar to rock types in Scotland and those in northern mainland Nova Scotia are similar to those in eastern North America. The continents of the world are still moving but the rate is very slow; Africa and North America are separating by a couple of centimetres per year. In a human lifetime this is nothing but in geological time this adds up to major continental movements.
A hundred million years ago dinosaurs wandered around in the Annapolis Valley. Back then this area was a very different; the climate, the vegetation, the landforms but there were certain recognizable features such as North and South Mountains and the valley, in rough outline.
The landforms we interact with daily in the Annapolis Valley are a result of major geological processes. But these are slow and it is not as if we have to worry about a new mountain range over night. However, we do experience earthquakes in this area; the latest one was in 2010 near Grand Manan Island. There have been other earthquakes as well. On November 18, 1929 an earthquake shook the Grand Banks and sent a Tsunami towards the east coast. It was felt in Newfoundland and as far south as North Caroline. It was also felt in Portugal.
More “recent” events that have dramatically moulded the landscape we see are the massive ice sheets, which covered much of the northern globe during the last ice age. During the last million years there have been four major ice ages. Glaciers have acted like giant bulldozers landscaping Nova Scotia. The weight of maybe as much as two kilometre thick ice acted like a giant press pushing the land mass down. Between ice ages the land rebounded. During the last ice age, which started about one hundred thousand years ago and ended about eleven to twelve thousand years ago the world ocean was one hundred metres lower than it is today. All that water was tied up as ice covering northern North America and Europe and Siberia. Many lakes, rivers, hills and valleys that we have today are a result of the glaciations. We may look across the landscape and see constancy but far from it, it is continuously being reshaped. Mostly the process is so slow that we do not worry about it but along any seashore where there are beaches major transformations can take place even after just one big storm. So what, you may ask? Well, it should make us humble. Nature is powerful, what we perceive and what “is” are not always synonymous.
The Annapolis Valley is famous, at least in Canada; it is highly fertile, the Mi’kmaq lived here for thousands of years and still do, the Acadians, settled here in the 1600’s and started farming, the New England Planters settled here after the expulsion of the Acadians some of whom later returned and many live on the French Shore south of Digby. People still flock to the valley if not to live, then to buy vegetables, apples, wine, dairy products and meat; they all recognized the valley as a special place. Stan Rodgers, the famous Canadian folk singer, has a song about the Annapolis Valley that many Canadians can hum by heart, I should hope.
»
From the bedroom window I scan the pasture but cannot see the horses. I figure they are probably down in the corral.
I collect my clothes and tiptoe out and go down stairs. A few of the old floorboards creak, as do some of the steps of the staircase. I stop to listen but I hear no stirring from any of the bedrooms – Pia and the kids are not awakened. The creaking of the old house is a familiar sound.
Down stairs I quickly put on my clothes. If I am going for a long ride today a scoop of oats will not hurt Bucephalus. As I step outside three cats greet me. Cow peeks inside but I shoo him out. He is so curious – “What is in there?” Smudge throws herself on the ground and rolls over and from her upside down position looks at me. Honey, the fat neutered male meows in his silent fashion inherited from his Siamese mother telling me he is so hungry he’ll die if he doesn’t get food right away.
I turn my attention away from them – I’ll feed them later. There is not a cloud in the sky. I can sense a high pressure has settled over the valley. The air is dry and feels fresh. A Song Sparrow is singing its heart out from atop one of the apple trees. I can hear a Yellow Warbler singing from the Elm tree out by the road.
I walk around the barn and out to the corral but the horses are not there. I go back to the pasture. They are not there either. I run my eyes along the electric fence to see if there is a break anywhere – maybe they have gotten out and gone over to visit the neighbour’s horses. It wouldn’t be the first time!
I use a single strand of a plastic tape with thin wire woven through it to enclose the pasture. I have often marvelled at how little it takes to keep a twelve hundred pound horse confined but they do get out – especially when the grass is chewed down inside the wire and is lusciously green on the outside. But I frequently move the pasture by moving the fence and they have lost of good tall grass still.
The fence is intact but they are not there. As I stand contemplating where to start searching a head suddenly appears from the middle of the pasture. I give a whistle and then another head appears. Both heads turn in my direction. I relax – they have been lying down, flat out, in the tall grass. They must have been off in dreamland on this glorious morning.
»
I haven’t always lived in the Annapolis Valley in Nova Scotia. I was born in Denmark, but when I was six we moved to the States for a year. We had a television, which was a novelty and I remember watching westerns, Tonto and the Lone Ranger and Zorro. The image of galloping on horseback through the landscape was etched in my mind. But after a year we moved back to Denmark. There I learned to ride. But then when I was thirteen we moved to Canada. In Canada I spent my teenager years and early twenties in Ontario, and my late twenties in Alberta. Horses became a part of my life. In my thirties I lived in Norway. I was working at the University of Oslo. A colleague at the University, Larry, a displaced American asked me one day in early December during my second year if I wasted to go to Romania to spend New Years and learn to folk dance. That sounded interesting and I said yes right away. Larry was floored. How could I say yes just like that for it had taken him a number of years for him to make this decision. In Romania I met Pia, a Danish woman who had travelled independently also to learn folk dances and spend New Years Eve. Life became a happy set of circumstances and our daughter was born later that year in Copenhagen. In late fall Pia and Josephine moved to Norway. We spent two years in Norway but then made the decision for me to return to Canada and Pia and Josephine to follow. After a few months in Ontario we moved the Annapolis Valley in Nova Scotia. I had a job at Acadia University and this turned out to be the best move ever.
Now we live in an old farm house on ten hectares of land where we have horses, sheep, chickens and often in the summer raise a couple of pigs. The sheep are Pias, she uses the wool to be dyed, spun and woven into scarves, shawls and tapestries. The lams are a bonus and together with the pigs we are self-sufficient in meat.
»
I duck under the fence and walk out towards the horses. They are in no hurry to get up and just look at me approaching. Bucephalus is my half Arab half Quarter Horse gelding. I bought him when he was seven years old. Bucephalus a very dark brown, he almost looks black. He has a nice reddish brown muzzle and some white on three of his feet. The hooves on the three white feet are a tan colour and his dark foot has a dark hoof. He is a sleek horse well muscled with a beautiful posture. He is so attractive, especially when he moves. He will run around with tail bent up, head and neck held high, alert. His powerful rounded hind-quarters are clearly Quarter Horse while his sleek head and neck are Arab. Mind you, he thinks he is all Arab. He is high strung, he will run like the wind and suddenly shy at a log or rock that he has passed many times before without paying any attention.
He must have had an insecure beginning. When he is by himself in the pasture or in the barn he literally freaks out. He whinnies, runs around in the pasture, or tosses his head and stamps his feet in the barn, to the point he sweat over his whole body. When I take him for a ride he is fine, we do not need to be together with other horses for him to be at peace. He is content to be with me out exploring. Thus, Bucephalus needs a companion and there has been a couple. May is the current one. She is a Percheron filly just one year old but already the same size as Bucephalus. Despite her size she is clearly just a youngster not yet proportioned right, often clumsy and naïve and only infrequently frisky in an arduous way befitting a twelve hundred pound animal.
As I get close they both bring their front legs forward, give a grunt as they raise their heads and press their front half up, then lower their heads as they push off with the hind legs tucked in under them to raise the rear half. It is not easy for a horse to get up, size and gravity works against them. I have always found it peculiar how a horse raises it front half first from a lying position whereas a cow raises it rear half first. Is this some quirk of evolution or is higher fitness bestowed an animal of the plains to raise its head first to see danger whereas a cow evolved from ancestors in woods needed to see danger approaching from under branches?
Both horses come over to see if I have a treat for them. I do not! They will get a treat in their stalls. I take them by their halters and start leading them towards the gate. Bucephalus always walks fast while May drags her feet. I gently tug on Bucephalus to get him to slow down and urge May to walk faster – I still feel my arms are being pulled out of their sockets. I had not brought a lead rope. With a lead rope May can fall behind which has the effect of her speeding up. After all she does not want to get too far behind – she might be left there.
We get to the gate but this is going to be interesting. I have built the gate such that when open it naturally swings closed. However, with two horses in hand, no lead rope and a gate the swings inward I need a third hand. I hook the gate with my foot and pull it towards me and then catch the gate with my back to hold it open. Now I need to back up to open the gate wide but the horses need to move sideways to get through. This is not the usual way and they look at me as if to question what in the world we are doing. As I have walked backwards they have swung around. I need for them to back up now and we should be able to get through. Usually if you move slowly and don’t get excited horses generally figures out what they have to do. They back up eventually and as I move with them the gate closes behind us. We are through!
I lead them up to the barn and let go of Bucephalus as he walks in and finds his own standing stall. I lead May in to her stall and fasten the rope at the head of the stall to her halter. Before I am finished I can hear a jet of water hitting the stall floor from Bucephalus. Why does he so often wait ‘till he is inside? His hind legs are spread slightly and pushed back while his front legs are pushed forward – his tail is slightly raised. As he nears the end he grunts like some men standing at a urinal. We are mammals after all. He finishes by tightening his buttocks, which shakes the last drops of urine off and he straightens himself up by moving front and hind legs back under him. I go in and tie the rope to his halter.
Starting in early summer the horses are outside at night so when they come in they know oats are coming. I give them a scoop each from the big blue barrel in the tack room and fill their water buckets with clean cool water.
The cats have followed us and wait to be fed. Their bowls are in the tack room and I pour some kibble. All three look at their bowls and then look up at me. Honey mimics a meow. “We wanted canned food, not this dry stuff.”
As I leave the barn I can hear the horses contentedly munching their oats. Honey is sitting in the door-opening looking expectantly after me.
Lying on my back in bed under a light cover, I am in perfect balance feeling neither cold nor hot. My internal furnace seems on standby. It is the state where you are not aware of your body. Pia is lying beside me but her steady breathing tells me she is in a deep sleep.
As more neurons begin to fire, I focus on the light from the rising sun on the wall. This is a north-facing window! I try to visualize the position of the earth in relation to the sun. The North Pole is tilted towards the sun but how precisely does it work? The earth spins around on its axis but this axis changes as the earth revolves around the sun. The sun appears to go around the earth as the sun rises and sets every day. The apparent movement of the sun is east to west but since it is the earth that spins it turns into the sun west to east. We don't feel the earth spinning, all we see is the sun rising and setting. What we perceive can be explained equally well by mechanism where the sun circles the earth or the earth spins but only one is correct. Perception and reality may not be the same. Does it really matter? But how do we sense that the earth revolves around the sun? Well, the seasons, the tilted axis. It is too much, too early in the morning; thinking about more than one variable that interact is complex!
The curtain now makes a flapping sound. Has the breeze intensified? On clear days there often seems to be a gentle breeze from the west as the sun rises. I have frequently wondered if this is a result of the sun warming the air, which then rises pulling in air causing the breeze from the west to replace the rising air. I am lost in contemplation as my brain slowly becomes active. My thoughts turn to my horse, Bucephalus. He is out in the field somewhere, no doubt fully awake when the sun rose.
I slide from under the cover not to wake Pia. As my naked body emerges and is touched by the cool morning breeze I gain full consciousness. I walk to the window and look out towards the west. I sense this is going to be a good day, a good day for a long ride on Bucephalus.
»
Our farm is a mere stones-throw from salt water, that’s when the tide is in, the famous Fundy tide. Then we can see the “ocean” down in the Habitant inlet. When the tide is out you see the mud, massive amounts of glistening mud ringed by salt grass. With a twelve to thirteen meter difference between high and low tide there are extensive mudflats exposed when the tide is out. Standing by the edge of the flats you cannot see the “ocean”. The Bay of Fundy is known around the world for its high tide, the highest in the world. The amount of water moving back and forth in the Bay of Fundy on a daily basis is equivalent to the flow of water in all the rivers of the world.
The tidal height in the Bay of Fundy is so extreme because of something called resonance. This is a relationship between the length of the bay and the time between high and low tide. The to and fro of the tidal flow in Bay of Fundy is like the movement of water in a narrow container being tilted back and forth. The timing of this is what intensifies the tidal height. It is like two waves meeting which doubles in height.
The Minas Basin, at the head of the Annapolis Valley, is just down the road to the east. North Mountain and South Mountain border the broad valley. North Mountain is a long ridge of basalt that rises from the valley floor and runs from Cape Split southwest down to Digby where it becomes the Digby Neck and terminates in Brier Island. South Mountain is more accurately called an upland, which parallels North Mountain.
Way back in geological time, just over four hundred million years ago two major continents, North and South America and Africa and Europe were separated by the Iapetus Sea. These two continental plates were moving towards each other at not much more than a few centimetres per year. Eventually they collided. The force involved in this collision was so great that a folding took place creating a mountain range. Over millions of years wind and water eroded this range and all that is left in this region now is South Mountain, or more correctly the Southern Uplands.
Pangea was the single continent that resulted from this collision. At the time, Nova Scotia’s location was just south of the equator. After eons, a little over two hundred million years ago, Pangea started to split up into a number of landmasses that slowly separated. Present North America separated from Europe and Africa. Part of the fissure that was created ran up what we now call the Bay of Fundy. It was during this event that basalt was extruded and covered the sandstone, which overlaid shale. This basalt ridge we now call North Mountain. North Mountain is no more than a high ridge, it is not rugged, there are only exposed rock faces to speak off, it is only 200 metres high but to the people of the Annapolis Valley it is a mountain, it is their mountain.
Eventually the fissure, the tear separating North America and Africa ceased and another tear started further to the east leaving what is now Nova Scotia attached to North America. When geologists examine the rock types in southern parts of Nova Scotia there are distinct similarities with the rock types of Morocco in north-western Africa. The rock type in Cape Breton is similar to rock types in Scotland and those in northern mainland Nova Scotia are similar to those in eastern North America. The continents of the world are still moving but the rate is very slow; Africa and North America are separating by a couple of centimetres per year. In a human lifetime this is nothing but in geological time this adds up to major continental movements.
A hundred million years ago dinosaurs wandered around in the Annapolis Valley. Back then this area was a very different; the climate, the vegetation, the landforms but there were certain recognizable features such as North and South Mountains and the valley, in rough outline.
The landforms we interact with daily in the Annapolis Valley are a result of major geological processes. But these are slow and it is not as if we have to worry about a new mountain range over night. However, we do experience earthquakes in this area; the latest one was in 2010 near Grand Manan Island. There have been other earthquakes as well. On November 18, 1929 an earthquake shook the Grand Banks and sent a Tsunami towards the east coast. It was felt in Newfoundland and as far south as North Caroline. It was also felt in Portugal.
More “recent” events that have dramatically moulded the landscape we see are the massive ice sheets, which covered much of the northern globe during the last ice age. During the last million years there have been four major ice ages. Glaciers have acted like giant bulldozers landscaping Nova Scotia. The weight of maybe as much as two kilometre thick ice acted like a giant press pushing the land mass down. Between ice ages the land rebounded. During the last ice age, which started about one hundred thousand years ago and ended about eleven to twelve thousand years ago the world ocean was one hundred metres lower than it is today. All that water was tied up as ice covering northern North America and Europe and Siberia. Many lakes, rivers, hills and valleys that we have today are a result of the glaciations. We may look across the landscape and see constancy but far from it, it is continuously being reshaped. Mostly the process is so slow that we do not worry about it but along any seashore where there are beaches major transformations can take place even after just one big storm. So what, you may ask? Well, it should make us humble. Nature is powerful, what we perceive and what “is” are not always synonymous.
The Annapolis Valley is famous, at least in Canada; it is highly fertile, the Mi’kmaq lived here for thousands of years and still do, the Acadians, settled here in the 1600’s and started farming, the New England Planters settled here after the expulsion of the Acadians some of whom later returned and many live on the French Shore south of Digby. People still flock to the valley if not to live, then to buy vegetables, apples, wine, dairy products and meat; they all recognized the valley as a special place. Stan Rodgers, the famous Canadian folk singer, has a song about the Annapolis Valley that many Canadians can hum by heart, I should hope.
»
From the bedroom window I scan the pasture but cannot see the horses. I figure they are probably down in the corral.
I collect my clothes and tiptoe out and go down stairs. A few of the old floorboards creak, as do some of the steps of the staircase. I stop to listen but I hear no stirring from any of the bedrooms – Pia and the kids are not awakened. The creaking of the old house is a familiar sound.
Down stairs I quickly put on my clothes. If I am going for a long ride today a scoop of oats will not hurt Bucephalus. As I step outside three cats greet me. Cow peeks inside but I shoo him out. He is so curious – “What is in there?” Smudge throws herself on the ground and rolls over and from her upside down position looks at me. Honey, the fat neutered male meows in his silent fashion inherited from his Siamese mother telling me he is so hungry he’ll die if he doesn’t get food right away.
I turn my attention away from them – I’ll feed them later. There is not a cloud in the sky. I can sense a high pressure has settled over the valley. The air is dry and feels fresh. A Song Sparrow is singing its heart out from atop one of the apple trees. I can hear a Yellow Warbler singing from the Elm tree out by the road.
I walk around the barn and out to the corral but the horses are not there. I go back to the pasture. They are not there either. I run my eyes along the electric fence to see if there is a break anywhere – maybe they have gotten out and gone over to visit the neighbour’s horses. It wouldn’t be the first time!
I use a single strand of a plastic tape with thin wire woven through it to enclose the pasture. I have often marvelled at how little it takes to keep a twelve hundred pound horse confined but they do get out – especially when the grass is chewed down inside the wire and is lusciously green on the outside. But I frequently move the pasture by moving the fence and they have lost of good tall grass still.
The fence is intact but they are not there. As I stand contemplating where to start searching a head suddenly appears from the middle of the pasture. I give a whistle and then another head appears. Both heads turn in my direction. I relax – they have been lying down, flat out, in the tall grass. They must have been off in dreamland on this glorious morning.
»
I haven’t always lived in the Annapolis Valley in Nova Scotia. I was born in Denmark, but when I was six we moved to the States for a year. We had a television, which was a novelty and I remember watching westerns, Tonto and the Lone Ranger and Zorro. The image of galloping on horseback through the landscape was etched in my mind. But after a year we moved back to Denmark. There I learned to ride. But then when I was thirteen we moved to Canada. In Canada I spent my teenager years and early twenties in Ontario, and my late twenties in Alberta. Horses became a part of my life. In my thirties I lived in Norway. I was working at the University of Oslo. A colleague at the University, Larry, a displaced American asked me one day in early December during my second year if I wasted to go to Romania to spend New Years and learn to folk dance. That sounded interesting and I said yes right away. Larry was floored. How could I say yes just like that for it had taken him a number of years for him to make this decision. In Romania I met Pia, a Danish woman who had travelled independently also to learn folk dances and spend New Years Eve. Life became a happy set of circumstances and our daughter was born later that year in Copenhagen. In late fall Pia and Josephine moved to Norway. We spent two years in Norway but then made the decision for me to return to Canada and Pia and Josephine to follow. After a few months in Ontario we moved the Annapolis Valley in Nova Scotia. I had a job at Acadia University and this turned out to be the best move ever.
Now we live in an old farm house on ten hectares of land where we have horses, sheep, chickens and often in the summer raise a couple of pigs. The sheep are Pias, she uses the wool to be dyed, spun and woven into scarves, shawls and tapestries. The lams are a bonus and together with the pigs we are self-sufficient in meat.
»
I duck under the fence and walk out towards the horses. They are in no hurry to get up and just look at me approaching. Bucephalus is my half Arab half Quarter Horse gelding. I bought him when he was seven years old. Bucephalus a very dark brown, he almost looks black. He has a nice reddish brown muzzle and some white on three of his feet. The hooves on the three white feet are a tan colour and his dark foot has a dark hoof. He is a sleek horse well muscled with a beautiful posture. He is so attractive, especially when he moves. He will run around with tail bent up, head and neck held high, alert. His powerful rounded hind-quarters are clearly Quarter Horse while his sleek head and neck are Arab. Mind you, he thinks he is all Arab. He is high strung, he will run like the wind and suddenly shy at a log or rock that he has passed many times before without paying any attention.
He must have had an insecure beginning. When he is by himself in the pasture or in the barn he literally freaks out. He whinnies, runs around in the pasture, or tosses his head and stamps his feet in the barn, to the point he sweat over his whole body. When I take him for a ride he is fine, we do not need to be together with other horses for him to be at peace. He is content to be with me out exploring. Thus, Bucephalus needs a companion and there has been a couple. May is the current one. She is a Percheron filly just one year old but already the same size as Bucephalus. Despite her size she is clearly just a youngster not yet proportioned right, often clumsy and naïve and only infrequently frisky in an arduous way befitting a twelve hundred pound animal.
As I get close they both bring their front legs forward, give a grunt as they raise their heads and press their front half up, then lower their heads as they push off with the hind legs tucked in under them to raise the rear half. It is not easy for a horse to get up, size and gravity works against them. I have always found it peculiar how a horse raises it front half first from a lying position whereas a cow raises it rear half first. Is this some quirk of evolution or is higher fitness bestowed an animal of the plains to raise its head first to see danger whereas a cow evolved from ancestors in woods needed to see danger approaching from under branches?
Both horses come over to see if I have a treat for them. I do not! They will get a treat in their stalls. I take them by their halters and start leading them towards the gate. Bucephalus always walks fast while May drags her feet. I gently tug on Bucephalus to get him to slow down and urge May to walk faster – I still feel my arms are being pulled out of their sockets. I had not brought a lead rope. With a lead rope May can fall behind which has the effect of her speeding up. After all she does not want to get too far behind – she might be left there.
We get to the gate but this is going to be interesting. I have built the gate such that when open it naturally swings closed. However, with two horses in hand, no lead rope and a gate the swings inward I need a third hand. I hook the gate with my foot and pull it towards me and then catch the gate with my back to hold it open. Now I need to back up to open the gate wide but the horses need to move sideways to get through. This is not the usual way and they look at me as if to question what in the world we are doing. As I have walked backwards they have swung around. I need for them to back up now and we should be able to get through. Usually if you move slowly and don’t get excited horses generally figures out what they have to do. They back up eventually and as I move with them the gate closes behind us. We are through!
I lead them up to the barn and let go of Bucephalus as he walks in and finds his own standing stall. I lead May in to her stall and fasten the rope at the head of the stall to her halter. Before I am finished I can hear a jet of water hitting the stall floor from Bucephalus. Why does he so often wait ‘till he is inside? His hind legs are spread slightly and pushed back while his front legs are pushed forward – his tail is slightly raised. As he nears the end he grunts like some men standing at a urinal. We are mammals after all. He finishes by tightening his buttocks, which shakes the last drops of urine off and he straightens himself up by moving front and hind legs back under him. I go in and tie the rope to his halter.
Starting in early summer the horses are outside at night so when they come in they know oats are coming. I give them a scoop each from the big blue barrel in the tack room and fill their water buckets with clean cool water.
The cats have followed us and wait to be fed. Their bowls are in the tack room and I pour some kibble. All three look at their bowls and then look up at me. Honey mimics a meow. “We wanted canned food, not this dry stuff.”
As I leave the barn I can hear the horses contentedly munching their oats. Honey is sitting in the door-opening looking expectantly after me.
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