I FOUND SOME HORSES THE OTHER DAY, while picking up the mail. This was the first one.
And this was the second one.
It might be hard to tell from the pictures, but there is an old, decrepit fence running along the whole property. The fence does not look like it could hold back a horse. A squirrel lacking self-esteem, maybe, but no horse. As I crossed the road to get a better look at the first equine, something struck me. Could these horsies jump the fence and trample me? Not that it would be their fault, but whose fault it was would not really console me if I were trampled. I kept my distance, just in case.
Buttfirst came towards the fence, almost within jumping distance, and proceeded to be adorable. Keeping my eye on Buttfirst, I hadn’t noticed there was a second horse, also now tromping over to me. These guys had put me on the spot. They stood there, seemingly waiting for me to do something. It was like being pressured for political donations. Maybe they were expecting apples, but I had no apples. I was a big apple tease.
Instead, I took a snapchat of them, and tried to send it, but something came up on my phone telling me there was no WiFi. My data for this month had run out weeks ago.
Maybe it was my imagination, but the horses looked kind of sad, neglected. In another life I would play with them, but what would some farmer think if he saw his animals fraternizing with some displaced hipster? Maybe nothing. Probably nothing. People are probably used to strangers approaching their horses.
On the other hand, maybe he’d shoot me. I hear they’re pretty into those “gun” things around here.
But really, there was no time for fraternizing or getting shot. I had a mission to get the mail. One of the magazines I’m published in is coming. “See you guys,” I said, but the horses just looked at me like I was an idiot.
We can’t talk, you knob, they said with their eyes.
I felt a little dumb and walked over to the mailbox. Inside the mailbox were two letters and a postcard. The letters were bills, and the postcard was from a real estate guy, his portrait photoshopped poorly into a field with (in an odd coincidence) two horses. I spent the next few minutes mentally correcting the grammar on back of the postcard. The highlight was its use of too many exclamation marks. REAL ESTATE! REAL ESTATE! REAL ESTATE! (As opposed to that fake estate junk.)
On the way home I heard another clomping of hooves. In the field next to me, a couple cows were running away. I did not take a snapchat of the cows. Cows are not noble, like horses. Heroes do not ride them, ever. We make them into burgers instead. I shall not, and never, snapchat a cow.
Further on there was a coniferous tree that hydro workers had cut half the branches off, so it wouldn’t fall on the power lines beneath it. That tree looked sadder than the horses even, or the cows, or the cows and horses combined. I didn’t snapchat the tree either.