Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Thank You

Tanner misses her a lot.

I have been surprised by how many people have read the post about how Belle died (160-plus).  It makes me think that the death of a horse is a matter of public interest.

Several neighbors have told me that they had enjoyed seeing Belle every day. People who drove past our farm every day got used to seeing the three horses grazing, or rolling in the mud, or dozing in the sun. Neighbors mentioned that they missed seeing Belle when she was laid up in the barn, recovering from her injury. They preferred to see the herd together, all three.

Tanner, Belle, and Fire

As the horses' caregiver, I feel a great responsibility. And though I did not realize it before, I now know that I am accountable to the community for the horses in my care. I don't mind--that's how it should to be.  No horse should disappear from view without a good explanation.

It is an honor to have horses. It is good to discover that they mean something more to other people  than I would have guessed, or noticed.

Simply by virtue of their presence, it seems, horses feed the human spirit. That is what I've learned from what people have told me, from their interest in Belle's story, and from my own personal experience.

It''s a fine human trait that people take pains, literally, to understand the nature of a loss that is mine and perhaps theirs, too; that they wish to mourn for a horse that they may not have known well, but which they had come to care about nonetheless.

There has been a remarkable outpouring of concern and grief for what happened to Belle (and to me and to Phil on that miserable morning).  For all of your good wishes, tears, and concern, my family and I are grateful.  (I would say that my remaining herd is grateful, but even I know that that would be anthropomorphizing.)

Fire makes a grab for my hat.

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