WARNING:: This post contains teenaged reasoning, horses behaving badly, and a Super Mario Brothers reference.. Proceed at your own risk!!
Like I said before, that Monday had been perfect. The only glitch had been around ten in the morning. The Boss Mare had forgotten to tell me one of our riders was coming, so I'd thrown her pony out with the big herd. The rider wasn't mad though and disappeared to catch the aforementioned pony. On a sidenote, I had asked if she would like me to go catch him. I think she regretted telling me no.
More than a half hour later, she came back, wiping sweat from her brow. I felt bad but was EXTREMELY happy that I hadn't had to make the trek myself. It's a long way from home.
So, as luck would have it, I ended up walking the same path... Multiple times.
Feeding started at 4 PM, like normal. I had my little schedule down, with hose downs included (When it's that hot out, hosing one's self down is ESSENTIAL. I'm sure our neighbors were thrilled.). I brought in the first group of horses, no problem. Then I hiked out to get our second group.... And they were nowhere to be found.
I called. "Come on!" Nothing, nada. They had disappeared down the beaten path into our 40+ acre pasture. That needed bushhogging about as bad as I wanted a farmboy(Wesley from the Princess Bride, anybody?), which was pretty freaking bad.
Of course, I didn't have my cell on me, so I hauled butt back to the barn, making sure to fix up the gates so I could run the last horses out. I rang up the Boss, who informed me to hike back out there and make sure no one was dead or colicking or missing a limb - you know, any of the mass amounts of thing horses get into.
Here's where I made the mistake.
I decided to run my last group of horses out of the barn. Not that big of a deal. Except GLITTER.
I had been warned. I take full responsibility for the next three hours of what happened.
Glitter has to be led out to her pasture instead of running down with her herdmates because, frankly, Glitter is an insufferable cow about some things. Some things like the color orange, which happens to be the color of the flimsy barrier between the gate and the fence. It's genius, really. All the horses can see it, and they all veer neatly into their paddocks.
Except Glitter, who at the very sight of orange bows up like a three year old on pixie sticks. She must break through it. I didn't believe them. Now I do.
We were to the gate when I pulled her halter off, and she spotted the orange. She charged, busting through that orange tape like it was an Olympic finish line. Now, none of this would have been as bad, save for the fact that the gate to the 40+ acre pasture from hell? Wide open. It wouldn't have been more inviting if I had handwritten the chestnut mule a WELCOME banner. Watching her hightail it out, knowing that:
A) It's 40+ acres of waist high weeds,
B) She is not the easiest sucker to catch,
and
C) There already were 6 or 8 other horses out there
Made me say some VERY not nice words. Halter in hand, muscles cramping, feet blistering, I took after her.
Thirty minutes later, I had her caught. My boots were ruined, of course, because of some unexpected water damage (No one told me there were creeks back there!). As I led her back, she started licking my arm. Girl, the human salt block. Though not ready to forgive her, I was too tired to fend off her affections. "Stop, Glitter." I told her with the same enthusiasm you have when you realize the last piece of birthday cake has been eaten.
I heard him before I saw him. Bubba, all 17.3 hands (15.3 of which must just be legs), galloping as if he were on the final stretch of Rolex. I put a deathgrip on Glitter's lead rope. Dear Lord, I had come too far, and I was not losing her fat, shiny chestnut butt for anything.
He galloped through the creek, muddy water splashing up high enough to drench a normal human, and then right on past us. Well, Glitter, reminded of her Thoroughbred ancestors, sat right down on that shiny rump, spun, and took off. I had the briefest sensation of air skiing before I hit the ground, looking up just in time to see Glitter buck her way past the treeline. Lead rope trailing.
I and my muddy boots went after her again. Dirt smudged across my forehead. Sweat dripped down my back. My stomach growled. But I never give up, and by God, I had come too far.
Now, if you took a giraffe and a dog and a horse and a dinosaur, and you mangled all the pieces together, you would come up with Bubba. So, when he spotted me walking across the pasture, he was very.. intrigued. Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but I prefer giant three-year-old warmbloods be intrigued by grass or their fellow ponies or alien invasion. Anything but me.
I noticed how low the sun had gotten by where it threw the shadow of his head. Which happened to be extremely close to the shadow of my body. I spun around, and he jumped back. "Hi. Go away."
I made shooing motions, which he took as an invitation to be petted. He stuck his nose out. "No, Bubba. Go."
I made a point by turning around and continuing walking. He lagged behind for a second, and then the giant shadow of his head started bobbing after me. I spun back around. He stopped. I walked; he walked. I had the bizarre feeling I was in Super Mario Brothers' castle levels, where the ghosts chase you unless you look at them. In case you didn't know, the ghosts kill Mario.
This was not comforting.
Well, I managed to catch Glitter again. I made it all the way back to the gate, where the chain had fallen alongside one of the groundwires of the electric fence. (I believe that's what it was.) I squatted and grabbed for the chain... And hit the wire. It was like someone reached in and Tasered my brain. I screamed bloody murder and lost (this is just a rough estimate..) 4.5 years off my life before I could even register what happened.
Pride, feet, and brain aching, all I wanted was to call my mom and complain about the horrible day. I threw Glitter in her right pasture and went back up to the barn. My cell was on the bench, but when I got there, it was gone. That's when it hit me.
I had taken the phone into the Hell Pasture.
It was 7:45PM.
I prayed the entire way back out to the pasture. "Lord, if there is a Lord, please let me find this cell phone and not let it be stepped on or wet or dead. I'll give up cuss words. Most of the time. I'll fast; I'll go to church every Sunday. I'll give up gossip. Please, please, please. PLEASE LET ME FIND THIS PHONE."
By the time I had walked through the entire small pasture attached to the giant 40, I had lost all hope. My $250 present to myself had fumbled into the sixth dimension, where lost cell phones and disappearing socks go to die. I was bawling, but that may have been a result of the brain cells lapsing from the electroshock therapy earlier.
And then, there is a God.
A glimpse of red in a muddy hoofprint. I grabbed it. It was on. Everything worked. I had one missed call from the Boss. I called her back.
"Are you still alive?"
"Yes, and if you heard a scream, your fence is working GREAT."
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