Yesterday, I drove up to visit Connie. The early autumn day was hot but beautiful; alongside the road Queen Anne’s Lace was blooming with the goldenrod. I took a short detour because a sign warned me the bridge was out, washed away in a recent downpour. When I arrived, CJ and Jupiter were in the pasture and Connie greeted me at the door. Time seems to slip by, and before you know it another year has passed.
Last February, Pepper died unexpectedly in a tragic accident, leaving CJ, her son, traumatized. During the accident, the horses whinnied, paced, and spun around in their stalls, obviously upset. When the vet came she administered medication to calm and tranquilize CJ, who threatened to bolt through the side of his stall. And then after an examination, the vet put Pepper down as she was injured beyond recovery and showed no signs of survival.
A day or so later, a backhoe dug a massive pit, lowered Pepper’s body into the hole and covered it with dirt; while CJ watched from the sawdust shed. Afterwards, he walked to the gravesite, stood and smelled the ground. For the last 23 years, he had never been far from his mother’s side; their bond was never broken. Now, his mother was laid to rest, and he found himself alone.
Horse psychology, of course, isn’t very different from human emotions. They experience death like all living creatures. Although they don’t speak in a human vernacular, one can understand their feelings through body language. Not all mothers and their offspring share an emotional bond like Pepper and CJ had; most are pushed out of the nest to fend for themselves. But for those who have a close attachment, the feeling of loss is profound.
One memory I have of the two horses’ allegiance to one another was when I started riding Pepper. After a long ride lasting a few hours, I would return to the barn, unsaddle and open the sliding barn door leading into the pasture; there CJ would be patiently waiting for the return of his mother. Now, Pepper has gone where CJ can’t follow, to the great beyond.
A year and a half has passed, and CJ developed a new companionship with Jupiter. They had never been close, but things changed after the herd dwindled to just the two of them. Currently, CJ is 25 and Jupiter is 29, and both are within the zone of old age for horses. Time moves on, life brings changes, and the living cope with the reality of life and death.
“Happy Trails” to all my readers—may life bring you tranquility
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