Pets or Partners
Selfie with my partner on saying goodbye for awhile.
Driving down the Columbia River Gorge is always surreal. There’s this dark blue river cutting a wide swath through the desert. The river flows westward, but the nearly continuous wind creates a churn of whitecaps not unlike the sea. Slowly, you see the more moderate slopes of the Washington side of the river soften as vineyards cut squares of verdant green among the gold of native grasses. But, on the Oregon side, the terrain remains brutal; until suddenly, it’s not. It feels abrupt though I’m sure it’s not. Clouds push up the river and, when they lift, the cliffsides are thick with pines draped in moss. Waterfalls cascade down the steep cliff faces. It’s a remarkable transformation. Though I always watch to discern some line where the shift occurs, I’ve never found it. I couldn’t tell you where you leave the desert and enter the true Pacific Northwest.
Oregon had been experiencing some extreme heat – 115 degrees a few weeks ago in Kurt’s hometown of Canby. We’d watched with relief as the temperatures dropped as we moved westward. Arriving Sunday, we found a perfect Portland day, overcast with temps in the high 70s. An old veterinarian competitor of Kurt’s , Jack Root, owns the farm, Oakhurst, where the boys will be staying until they are put on commercial transport and shipped back to Maryland. Pulling up the Oakhurst lane, I think I can fairly say Jack won that competition. Oakhurst is a Thoroughbred breeding farm as well as an equine veterinary clinic. The stable can hold 120 horses. There’s a track for training the young Thoroughbreds, round pens and lots of fenced paddocks. The Roots don’t usually take boarders but agreed to take the boys as a favor to Kurt.
I knew they’d be in good hands, but still it was unsettling to hear the boys screaming from their stalls as we walked back out to our empty trailer and drove away. Kurt left early the next day to go back to DC. I still had a few days of vacation so I set about cleaning the trailer and truck so they’d be suitable for our friends, Keith and Marty, who will make a trip of driving the rig back to Maryland for us. After six hours of that, I needed a break and drove out to Oakhurst to see the boys. They seemed less agitated though still a bit on edge in the unfamiliar setting that had them in side-by-side stalls.
I visited them again this afternoon and found them in an outside paddock, calm but very thirsty. The water trough in the paddock was surrounded by a 4-foot perimeter of very liquid mud that the boys unsuccessfully tried to crane their necks to bridge. I stepped into the mud (up to mid-shin), scooped water in a bucket and G immediately drank about 10 gallons. Juneau, however, took only a sip then twisted his lip and walked away. I’d noticed the water was fouled with feathers and bird droppings. I brought a fresh bucket of water from the barn and Juneau drank it greedily then did the same with a second. A member of the Oakhurst staff saw me carrying the water from the barn and quickly moved the boys to another paddock with a clean water trough. On my way out, I stopped at the office and told the Roots I appreciated their staff’s quick action. They were amused to learn that my horses had refused to wade the mud to drink from the trough. They called them pets.
I’ve often laughed at folks who treat their horses like pets not livestock. Had I crossed that line? Hell, I’d just taken a selfie with my horse . Have I become what I myself have criticized, a crazy horse lady and is Juneau a pet?
No! He’s not a pet; he’s a partner. Juneau just let me lead him on a 4,500-mile journey. He followed me into the trailer dozens of times, into unfamiliar barns and corrals with new stablemates nearly every night. He waded into rivers, walked through caves, climbed a mesa, bushwhacked through cactus and traversed the base of a massive sand dune because that’s what I asked of him. Guillermo stood stock still while Kurt unwound barbed wire twisted around his legs. They aren’t our pets; they are tough as nails. They do what we ask because they trust us. They trust us because we consistently see to their most basic needs. I will shameless post my goodbye selfie with Juneau, just like I’d post a picture with a fellow member of a sports team, or a colleague, or a friend.