The family. We are a strange little band of characters trudging through life, sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that binds us all together.

- Erma Bombeck

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Bridget the Horse is Dead

(Pictured: Bridget)
Bridget, our horse, died today. We rescued her from a home that had not fed her well. She was 350 pounds underweight on May 31st when we brought her home. We managed to get her almost up to 1100 pounds before winter hit.
She was a sweet, well-trained horse. The few times that I was able to ride her, she was a gift to have. She could neck rein, side pass, and do hind quarter turns. She had obviously been well-trained.
Bridget never did fully recover...and as winter got longer, she started to lose some of the weight that she had regained. We gave her all that we could, but it was a hard winter.
One day, she slipped and fell on some of the rocks in the back of the pasture. She landed with her legs pointing uphill and a rock behind her shoulders. She couldn't roll uphill, and she couldn't roll down. I'm sure that she fought for awhile, but by the time we got to her, the fight was gone. We managed to roll her over and cover her with blankets before she let go forever.
Bridget was a wonderful horse. We are all saddened by her death. The realities of farm life don't seem to apply to horses as easily as they apply to other livestock.
J dragged her out into the field with the DitchWitch and covered her with snow. We had to wait several days before a friend could come over with a backhoe. He and J dug a large, deep hole in the far southwest corner of the property and buried her.
May she run in fields of clover forever.

1 comment:

hicktownmom said...

Somewhere in time's own space
There must be some sweet pastured place
Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow
Some paradise where horses go,
For by the love that guides my pen
...I know great horses live again.
~Stanley Harrison