02/22/2024
There is an old pony in a big pen by the barn. He has no real purpose. No kids ride him, he is not a companion to another old horse.
We lack any shared history. His entry into my life was purely coincidental. There are no cherished, heartwarming memories. I am not indebted to him. However, he exhibits politeness and kindness, greeting me with a gentle neigh as I step out the door each morning.
He eats a princely sum of special food and has a premium round bale of irrigated grass that the other horses can only dream of. His water is fresh and warm in the winter. I’ve gone out there late at night to make sure he has food, and he’s the first thing I attend to after morning coffee.
Why? Why not send him to the sale where ‘someone’ will want him? At 40 cents a pound, he’d be worth a nice steak dinner and drinks in town. They’ll load him on a truck with 30 other old ponies and horses, and somewhere down that line, if he doesn’t fall from his bad knee and get trampled in the transport, he will become dog food.
In our weigh station on this chilly, frosty night, there's a young calf in distress. He's small and undernourished, with f***s adhering to his rear and a slightly runny nose. A heater is in place, maintaining the temperature above freezing. Tomorrow morning, I plan to prepare a bottle of warm milk substitute for him and encourage him to consume some of the specialized feed meant for the pony. Bob will clean his little house and put down fresh bedding. It would be easier to have left him in the field with the 500 bigger, stronger calves, to steal milk from the occasional tolerant cow, to eventually freeze to death and feed the coyotes that lurk about the herd for just such an opportunity.
There is a wild kitten in the barn who most likely jumped off a utility truck a while back. We’ve been leaving food just for him, and making sure the heated water bowl is full, so he doesn’t have to go outside and perch precariously on the horse waterer to drink.
I guess we sound like saps, the old cowboy and I. Sort of wimpy and un-ranch-like.
I guess we are. But at our age, with certain infirmities starting to creep into our daily routines, and the realization that we are not perfect, we are thinking that kindness is a virtue and care is our purpose.
Care of not just the healthy robust animals that make money and pay the bills, but care of everything we are capable of caring for - those creatures that, like us, need a bit more attention to get through the day.
We didn’t go about seeking these creatures- they came to us and landed here not of their own choosing, or ours. But here they are, and off I go to town to a business that provides enough to buy the expensive milk replacer, premium hay, and special pony food.
There may be some karma in all this, or maybe not, but in the end, we’ll know we did the best we could for those that needed us.
