My horses got out the other day.

 

 

I was happily snuggled in bed early Sunday morning, ready for coffee and some quality computer time.  My Sunday morning treat, coffee on the nightstand, and the computer on the breakfast tray over my lap, cats curled around, purring, resigned, knowing that second breakfast comes a little later on Sunday morning.  Heaven for a little while.  In my busy schedule, I NEED this little luxury.

 

I was just about to turn over, stretch, and go for the coffee, when the husband walks in and, in a voice much too loud for Sunday morning, announces “Horses are out!”  It took a few seconds for my sleepy brain to process this.  Horses are out? What does that mean? Horses are out! Oh.  That means horses are out, and I have to get up NOW and go get them.

 

Great.  It’s cold outside.  It’s winter.  It’s early Sunday morning.  I’m not ready to go outside, I mean I haven’t even had my coffee yet.  I don’t usually have to worry about getting up early and doing chores on Sunday morning.  The barn cats have their heated houses and a big heated water bowl, and plenty of food left over from the night before.  They’re good.

 

The horses have two big round hay bales in their pen.  I know they are not starving to death, so why they think they need to be out wandering around instead of eating their hay is beyond me.  I manage to drag myself up, and put on some sweats.  I check the temperature outside.  1 degree.  I better find the snowsuit too since I don’t know how long I’ll be out there.  I’m glad I did.  The snowsuit may be big and bulky and red, but it’s warm, and I don’t mind the red, or the big, or the bulky.  I like the warm.

 

By the time I finally make it out there the husband has already found where they got out and is gathering the tools to fix it.  The horses are milling about down by my car.  Everyone is here.  Everyone is fine.  Good deal.  Easy peasy.   He fixes the fence.  I put the halter on Evanna and lead her back to the pen.  I chose her thinking the rest would follow, but they didn’t.  Evie and Rainy come part way, but the rest stay by the car.  I lead Evanna a good way into the pen and turn her loose.   I start back to get another horse, and Evanna trots over to the repaired fence and goes right through it.  Guess we need a more permanent fix.

 

The spot they got out is a temporary gate that leads to another pasture.  The gate is made with two strands of Electrobraid with gate handles that hook into a looped wire on the post.  Normally this is good enough to keep them, but it was too short, and we ran out of Electrobraid so we had to lengthen it with some electric fence tape that wasn’t as strong, the cheap stuff you get at your local farm supply store.  The farm supply tape on the bottom strand broke in the recent cold snap.  I thought the top strand would hold them in for now, but I was mistaken.  The pasture stands empty for winter, and part of the electric fence is down and waiting for repair this spring.  The horses came through the gate and then through the open part of the fence.

 

We decided to put up some boards for the rest of the winter and remove them once we’re ready to let the horses out in that pasture again.  The husband goes to get some boards, and I get some hay cubes to keep the horses busy while we fix the gate.  The whole process should have only taken a few minutes.  A simple fix, and horses go back in the pen.

 

 

Stella the Culprit

 

 

It didn’t quite turn out the way I had planned.  As I’m pulling out the hay cubes Stella – I love her dearly – decides now would be a good time to run down the driveway.  She raises her beautiful head, snorts and takes off at a gallop.  The others follow, and soon eight horses are in full gallop heading for my driveway. I yell, knowing that it’s futile and will have zero effect; I yell anyway.  Evie and Rainy somehow miss the driveway and end up in the pasture where they think they are contained.  That part is good.   I grab the halter and start off after the other six.

 

 

It really is a long driveway.

 

We have a long driveway.  I make it to the end and look in both directions.  No horses in sight.  Oh this is not good.  I thought I would find them hanging out and milling near the mouth of the driveway, but no, they are on the run.  It’s winter, and the snow is my saving grace, at first.  I see their tracks going west, and start walking, and walking, and walking.  I’m getting pretty concerned and realize that I might be tracking them all day.  By now I’m thinking they are going to take me to LaSalle Resort, or run into the next county, or take me all the way to Itasca State Park.

 

 

They could be anywhere.

 

After a bit, though, I follow the tracks  into a driveway.  The horses must have danced around there for awhile since the tracks went every which way, and I was having difficulty figuring out which way to go.  Pretty soon a woman comes out and asks if I’m looking for the horses.  Yes!  She says they are in the field in the back of the house.  Oh what a relief!  I thank her and head out there after them.

 

Of course I get to the field and don’t see them. I don’t even see their tracks since they entered from a different spot than I did.  Finally I spot them way off in the distance.  It’s a big field.  I start trudging my way through the snow.  Did I mention it’s a big field?  The snow is not soft and flaky.  It crusty.  It’s hard.  It’s knee deep.   It’s no longer my saving grace.  The crust is not strong enough to hold me, so each step is slow and difficult.  I put my foot on the crust, step up and get about half way there when my foot crashes through to the softer snow underneath.  Each arduous step after step goes the same.  It’s not turning out to be my most favorite Sunday morning ever.

 

Off to the edge of the woods behind the house I see some deer tracks in the snow.  They look to be a few days old, but I think it still might be easier to follow that trail instead of break my own.  It wasn’t.  The horses see me coming and are a little freaked out until I call to them and they recognize my voice.  That appears to calm them some.  They have been going back and forth in the field not sure which way is home.  They start towards me but then decide to run away again.  This back and forth happens a few times before they decide to head East without me.  At least East is the right direction.  If they keep going they’ll end up right at home.  They don’t.

 

Instead of keeping East, they turn South and West again.  This takes them closer to me and right through the neighbors newly planted orchard.  Great.  They start milling about in the baby trees and trample a couple.  Of course.  They wait there for me, and I do finally catch up to them and halter the closest one, which just happens to be Evanna again.  Now I have to decide if I’m going to keep up the hard slog through the crusty snow or go through the neighbors yard and take the easier road.  I choose the hard slog.

 

I chose to continue through the field for several reasons.  I would have had to lead them all the way through the neighbors orchard and yard risking further damage to the neighbors property, and possible injury to a horse, but the bigger reason was the road is no place for five horses to be running loose.  Understand though, I’m tired.  We only have about a mile to go, but it seems more like ten.  The road would have been so much easier. With each step my heart is pumping, and my legs are about done.  I have to stop several times and let the pounding in my chest subside.  Remember, I’m still in the field, still sloughing through knee deep crusty snow.  This is not easy.

 

Fortunately the five loose horses follow me and Evanna.  Mostly.  They go back and forth, but stay with us. I can see that they are sweaty and tired. They’re not liking this adventure anymore.  They just want to go home. Finally we hit the property line.  We have one last big field to cross.  I’m not sure if I’m gonna make it, but I know I have no choice.  I have to get these horses home, and we are so close.  We head into the last field and when we reach the midway point everyone realizes where they are.  The five go on ahead, and this upsets Evanna.  She starts dancing around.  I’m too exhausted for this and consider letting her go, then decide against it.  I don’t want her to learn that if she acts out, she’ll be set free, and at least I have one horse if they all decide to run down the driveway again.

 

I’m kind of a clutz, and in Evanna’s dancing around, I lose my balance and fall in the snow.  I’m certain she is going to trample me.  I hold up my arms and yell “Don’t you dare step on me!”  Amazingly she doesn’t.  I manage to get back up and continue on with Evanna who is now whinnying for the others.  They are whinnying back.  Evanna behaves well enough, though, and we finally hit the driveway and make it around where my car is parked.  There they all are milling about the car again.  Rainy is up eating hay by the big bales, and Evie is down by the car with the rest.

 

The husband already has the fence fixed and is up at the gate hoping they’ll come in.  He found the hay cube bag and brought it up there, but the horses aren’t cooperating.  I lead Evanna into the pen and show her a pile of cubes.  She is happy to eat them.  I go down to the car and take the first horse I reach which is Stella.  I thought they might follow her, but they don’t.  Once she is in, I go down and grab Shuz.  He is the one I should have taken first.  He used to be the big bad stallion, and even though he’s now a measly gelding, the mares still think he’s pretty cool. Paradys and Khatalina follow him in, and Sparkle wants to, but she is afraid to go through gates for some reason.  I catch Sparkle and lead her through while she eyes the gate and snorts at it, but she walks with me willingly.

 

Evie and Rainy still haven’t come in.  I go for Evie, and she decides, with a little encouragement from a swinging rope in the general direction of her rear, to go in on her own.  Rainy waits for me to halter her and lead her in.  At this point, I’m cold, and completely worn out.  My fingers aren’t working so well, and I’m having difficulty hooking the halter.  Rainy is eyeing me like I’m some kind of incompetent boob who can’t put a halter on a horse. But I finally get the halter on her, and lead her in to a pile of hay cubes.  I fumble off the halter, and she gives me one last disgusted look and then goes to eating her cubes.

 

Hores are safe.  Maybe I can relax a little now.  First, though, I go over to the neighbors and tell them the horses were in their new orchard, and I’ll compensate them for any damage.  They say they saw me out there rounding up the horses and ask if I got them all.  They were super nice about it.

 

 

Once home again, I inspect my car.

 

 

Yeah.  Now I know what they were doing down there.  Apparently cars taste like salt.

 

 

Disclaimer:  Only the pictures of the car were taken the day the horses got out.  The other pictures are of the driveway and the road and the horses on different days.  Since my highest priority was actually catching my horses and getting them home safe, I did not take the time to shoot any photos.  In fact, I left my camera at home and took pictures of the salty car after the horses were back in their pen safe and eating.  I was lucky.  Loose horses are a serious matter.  It could have turned out disastrous.