The White Death

Winter has slapped us in the face the past couple of weeks. As if she were reminding us that we are ever vulnerable, small, and not really in control of anything, she laughed at our efforts yesterday as our farm received over 8 inches of snow. This fell quickly and atop several other snows which were already inhabiting the Earth around us so we (and our neighbors) quickly conceeded the battle and hunkered down until her fury was diminished.

The snow event arrived in full force around 6:00am yesterday morning. Cooper the miniature stallion was outside in an overnight paddock so after the horses were fed, watered, and bedded down for the storm, I went to retrieve him. As I approached the gate to his paddock, I peered through the pelting snow for his little head. He stands 27 inches at the shoulder and is mostly white so in a snow storm, he could be easily lost.

I didn't see him immediately but began calling his name. I felt as though he wouldn't be able to hear me as the wind gusts were nearly 30 miles per hour and the snow was obscuring everything. I heard his shrill whinny and kept trudging to the gate. He was waiting there for me- head bowed to keep the driving snow from his eyes, too.

I slipped the tiny halter over his nose and fastened the buckle behind his ears. As soon as his gear was fastened, he nearly raced out of the gate beside me- anxious to reach the warmth and shelter of the barn a few yards away.  Abruptly, he encountered a snow drift. Having just traipsed through the wall of snow, I knew it was nearly as high as my thighs. Cooper only paused a moment and leapt forward into the air to breach the 4 foot drift. He landed a few feet forward- smack dab in the center of more snow. With another huge effort, he leapt again, snapping his tiny knees upward in a perfect Hunter horse pose as he hoisted his body into the air.

Now, the snow was beating upon us. All thoughts of its beauty and softness were gone as we were faced with ice cold lethal white death. Beside me, I could feel Cooper's fear mount as he continued to leap forward in giant bounds. He reminded me for an instant of a Lipizanner from the Spanish Riding School in Vienna that I had once seen in an exhibition. He continued to snap his knees upward and with great thrusts of his haunches, propelled himself out of the snow only to land back in the deep drifts. I could only offer my encouragement and let him know that I would not leave him alone. He seemed to understand and we paused for a moment- both of us out of breath from the force of the wind and snow. Then, his second wind grabbed hold and he leaped and bounded in several great bursts.

Soon, we were out of the drift and both able to trot the remainder of the distance to the barn. Neither of us needed encouragement to get to the warm haven quickly. Once inside, I pulled the door closed and walked Cooper to the stall. There, waiting for him was a fluffy bed of straw and a snack of delicious green hay. He whinnied once more in his shrill little voice as if to make sure that everyone in the barn knew that he had arrived.

I passed by the stall later and overheard him retelling his adventure to Wendy- the red roan yearling. She hung on every word and her eyes glowed with the excitement of his adventure. I did not have the heart to correct him when he took the liberty of adding even more danger and drama to the saga. After all, he had earned his tale- however he wished to retell it!

Khris