I had a wonderful ride on Ed on Monday. It felt like the first real day of summer. After several years of drought, this past month has been cool and rainy, and everything is green and lush again. Perfect day.
Before we even left the yard, Ed noticed a deer standing in the north paddock. That was encouraging—we both saw it, and nobody overreacted. A little later we spotted it again as it bounded across the oat field after we inadvertently spooked it while riding past the paddock.
For the first fifty years that we lived here there was a nice big beaver pond in the north quarter. In fact it grew larger over the years and was always full of water. Ducks, geese, frogs, and all kinds of wildlife raised their families there. Now it’s strangely quiet. The beaver tried their best to save it, making it smaller and smaller. I had hoped all the spring rain would bring the pond back to life, but sadly it hasn’t. In fact, if I weren’t worried about stepping into an old beaver run, I could probably ride right across it. The photos are from the same spot where Ed and I have stopped so many times to listen to the birds and watch all the activity. Almost every trip we saw moose or beaver or some other wild critter that used this beautiful pond. There were birds that I never saw anywhere else. The beaver had a big house out there that I could ski out to in the winter. It is all gone now. Dried up.
Further along the trail, Ed and I came to a tree that had fallen across our path. I love the way he turned one ear back toward me as if to ask, “So…what’s the plan?”
Now, Eddie has never been accused of being overly ambitious, and stepping over that log looked like a fair bit of work. He gave me his classic “Are you sure you’ve noticed the problem here?” expression, complete with pricked ears. When I assured him that yes, I really did think we should cross it, he turned his head and looked right at me. Was he checking to see if I was serious, or trying to make me feel guilty for asking him to work that hard? I’ll never know.
With a sigh worthy of an Oscar, he stepped over the log and carried on happily up the trail. Soon we were riding past a few rows of straw bales when the deer exploded from behind them. This time it genuinely startled Ed. He spun, snorted, and looked thoroughly surprised. Apparently we had been escorting that poor deer from one hiding place to the next all afternoon.
Above us stretched a brilliant blue sky. Below us was a sea of rich green fields, and a gentle breeze cooled us as we sauntered along toward home. It was one of those rides that reminds you exactly why you love horses and the countryside.
As we rode past the little bush we call the “graveyard” near home, guess who leaped out one last time?
The deer.
Once again Ed whirled, snorted, and recovered almost immediately.
The next day I had to make a trip to the chiropractor, and I’m pretty sure that little deer is the reason.
A Life With Horses 