An Early Morning Adventure

My husband likes to be up early.  He likes to go out with our dog at the break of dawn, feed the horses, commune with nature, etc.

Last week he had a pre-work morning meeting which brought him out to the barn to feed earlier than usual.  I was restless, listening to him get up in the dark and head out the door.  A few minutes later I heard him barreling down the hallway towards our bedroom and I knew something was wrong.

He asked me if I'd moved our horses to a different pasture the previous evening.  From the depths of my pillow came, "Noooo, they were in the winter pasture last night". 

He informed me no horses had shown up for breakfast.  Investigating their absence, he spotted two shadows way out in the summer pasture, pigging out on the rich, green grass, so high in sugar this time of year that we keep them away from it.  Our horses had found a way into where they shouldn't be. 

My now half-awake response was, "They must have opened the gate and gotten in."  Followed by a yawning of, "But there's a hot wire across the gate.  I just checked the signal last night and it was strong."  Followed by a wide awake, "Do you think someone was out there last night, took the hot wire down and opened the gate?"

This situation hadn't been part of my husband's early morning routine and he was now running behind schedule.  He told me when I got up I'd need to bring the horses in and figure out what happened.

When I got up?  Ha!  I was now up and any idea of sleep was long past.  Clambering out of bed, pulling on sweats, barn boots and a camo duck hunting jacket that has hung in our garage for over ten years, I grabbed our dog, Hank, and we headed out to catch two displaced horses and figure out the mystery.

One step out the garage door and I smelled Skunk.  It was so close that my eyes watered and I swear I could taste it.  Hank ran past me, charging into the bushes next to the house...just what I didn't need.

I yelled for Hank to come back, yet not sure if I was going to want him back.  He came out of the bushes back peddling towards me where I still stood at the door.  I, in turn, back peddled into the garage, not knowing if he'd been sprayed and already wondering what in the heck was the name of the stuff my sister-in-law suggested we use if Hank ever encountered a Skunk.

The smell of Skunk was so strong I couldn't tell if he'd been sprayed or not.  I had to bend down to smell Hank to get the verdict.  Hank in turn happily gave me a big lick on my face.  I was relieved to find no Skunk smell, only dog breath and Hank smell.

Leaving Hank unhappily in the house, I headed back out to capture our renegade horses.  The Skunk smell was fading as quickly as the dark.  In the early light I saw two horses where they shouldn't be. 

Grabbing a lead rope, I headed into the pasture towards Gus, closest to the gate.  He was a good sport, although a bit spooky, unusual for him but which I attributed to the fading smells of Skunk.  Thinking I was taking him to his stall for grain, I played right along.  Once he was inside I gave him the bad news of sliding the door shut without grain and headed out for Sunny, our older horse.

Sunny was way out across a low area in the pasture where water gathers in the spring and produces the most lovely frog sounds at night.  Walking through the "frog area" was going to be a problem for me, so I pleaded with Sunny to come to me.  No dummy, Sunny paid no attention.  It was obvious that all he cared about was his fine morning meal and not the lady in the camo jacket and sweats begging him to leave it for her. 

So the lady in the camo jacket had to go to Sunny, through the freezing cold pond water, which went up and over her barn boots and above her knees, while she thought about all the frogs lives she was impacting and odd tickles inside her boots, which she didn't want to think about at all.

Once Sunny was in the stall next to Gus, I investigated how they'd gotten out.  A big Belgian must have decided to rub his rear against the gate, pushing the gate latch through the wood that holds it, snapping the hot wire, which must have been quite a surprise to encounter (now I know why Gus was spooky.)  I repaired the wire, closed the gate, turned the hot wire back on and put the horses back where they belonged.

As I slogged to the house with wild-women night time hair, smeared eye make-up, drenched sweat pants up past my knees covered in green slime, frog eggs and who knows what else oozing around and between my frozen toes, my husband pulled out of the garage, all dressed up and heading to work.

He drove over to get an update on my early morning adventure.  As I leaned on his truck and emptied my boots of frogs, slime and water, I saw a little smile cross his face.  But he's a smart man, he didn't say another word.  Instead he quietly headed off to work. 

That evening he told me he'd shared at his early morning meeting how I'd gotten up and went out to get the horses, fixed the hot wire and gate.  He made it sound like I was the Cowgirl I've always wanted to be and that made me feel pretty good.

Our horses weren't any worse for wear from their early morning adventure and with one exception all was well.  The exception?  Well, the sound of frogs at night has been pretty sparse since that event.  :)