Horse Tales: Hello, My Son

The sun rose almost unexpectedly, changing a dark and frightening world into one of brightness and wonders within mere moments. Dew clung to the grass outside and a chill hung in the air, but the rooster sang his throaty song to the waking world and the colt knew it was time. Today was the day.

Struggling to his feet with one hefty heave, he took a few moments to catch his balance, with spindly legs splayed out slightly. He was hardly a newborn foal, but he was still learning the use of these long limbs and shaking off the last of the golden straw from his coat was enough to send an unwary colt tumbling back down to the earth. The colt couldn't have that. Not on this day. Today, everything was going to be perfect.

He turned and nuzzled his mother, but she barely acknowledged his presence. Hip cocked and head lowered, her half-lidded eyes and drooping lower lip signaled that she did not share in her son's early-morning enthusiasm and preferred to sleep still. With a grunt, the colt turned and lowered his head in underneath his mother, taking his breakfast as she rested. A few 'accidental' head butts to her abdomen earned him little more than a swish of her tail, telling him to stop being as annoying as the deerflies that plagued them in the shady places. His own tail flipped ineffectively and the colt tried to give an intimidating stallion-squeal, but it came out as a squeaky sound and set the nearby hens into a cackle of mocking laughter. Rather than admit his failure, the colt continued with the rest of his breakfast in silence.

Today would be a special day. His mother had told him this and, being one of the oldest and wisest of the broodmares, naturally she would know this to be the truth. The colt believed her and his heart pounded an ecstatic tattoo as he waited for the rest of the farm to wake up.

Today, he would meet the rest of the herd. More importantly, however...today, he would meet his father.

His mother had been loathe to tell him much about the farm, beyond their stall and the small paddock that they shared. Her reasoning for this was due to something called, "the sale," and her reluctance to allow her son to become too attached to anything at the farm, lest he go away to "the sale," whatever that had meant. Several other foals - colts and fillies alike - had gone to this sale-place yesterday. The young colt had heard the commotion and the frightened bleating cries of the foals as they were taken away, the older mares whinnying sounds of encouragement to the babies and the first-time mothers who called in frightened longing for their children. The memory of the sounds caused a fly-like crawl over the colt's fuzzy bay hide and he twitched his skin rapidly in an effort to remove the unpleasant sensation. His own excitement proved more effective at banishing it.

The broodmare sighed out a deep breath and shifted her weight, the opposite hip cocking as she raised the heel on one foot and sank her weight down into this comfortable position of rest. Excitedly, the colt raised his head, an inquisitive gaze sent forward, though the still-slack lip told him she rested still. He stomped the ground angrily with one hind foot and went back to nursing.

"Tomorrow," she'd promised, "the farmer will take us out and let us join the rest of the herd. It is the same every year. After the sale, those that remain go back to join the herd."

"The herd?" He'd raised his head from the feed bucket, where he'd been pretending to eat the big horse food, little bits of bran and oat husks clinging to his long whiskers and making him sneeze.

"The herd is our family," his mother patiently explained, "It's where our friends spend most of their time, eating sweet fresh grass and relaxing underneath the shady oaks."

"I made a friend, yesterday," interjected the colt, "She said her name is Cat and she eats the mice in the barn."

His mother nickered a chuckle and idly groomed her son, lipping his mane gently and scratching all the spots he couldn't reach. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

"You'll get to meet your father, too," she added at last.

"My father?"

"Yes," his mother answered, her nicker a contented and happy sound, "Your father - He's the strongest and most handsome stallion I have ever met. Rogue, they call him. Rogue."

The colt wasn't entirely sure what a stallion was, but he was excited to meet his father. His father - strongest and most handsome of all...Rogue.

And still his mother napped. Again the colt head-butted her in the stomach and his mother awakened at last, giving an over-exaggerated nod of her head, "Alright, alright... I'm awake, little one... but I cannot control when the farmer comes. Finish your breakfast and we will hope this will make him come sooner."

As always, his mother was wise. She was, after all, the oldest of all the broodmares on the farm. Despite his excitement, the colt continued to eat.

It was the arrival of Dog that heralded the farmer's approach. Dog always let them know when the farmer was coming, as he set off a chain reaction: Dog's sudden appearance would startle Cat, who would then turn and scamper through the hens, setting them of like a cackling alarm and a flurry of white feathers. Shortly thereafter, the farmer would walk through the doors and begin his morning chores. All of the big horses would then turn and look out over their stalls, watching the farmer with loving eyes and hoping for a rub. The farmer was never one to disappoint - there were friendly pats for all.

It seemed to take forever, the farmer going through and methodically feeding all of the animals first, and filling all the buckets and troughs with fresh, clean water. Each minute was agony to the excited colt, however, and he whinnied a complaint up over the door he couldn't even see past.

Several minutes past and the farmer's wrinkled old face and bushy white beard appeared over the door, "And what would you be wantin'?" Bright blue eyes almost disappeared within the wrinkles as the old man grinned down at the little horse, "Excited to go meet the others, are ya?" He waited for a moment, as if expecting the colt to reply, then continued on, "Well let's get you out of there, then!"

Rather than let the colt run loose and risk injuring himself, the farmer came into the stall and gently wrapped a thick cotton rope around the young horse, letting it drop down beneath his hindquarters. This would help to 'encourage' the colt, should he balk, but the colt had no desire to do anything of the sort. He pranced excitedly as the farmer slid his arms around the young one and guided him from the stall, out through the barn, and into the bright warm sunshine.

All around, the world was alive with colors and teeming with life - the greenest, lushest grass swayed gently in the breeze and birds sang their songs up high in the trees. Even the air smelled fresh and new, alive with so many different scents to explore and enjoy. The young colt blinked his eyes several times in the bright light, long lashes brushing down and then back up, almost as if in disbelief. Excited, he gave a little crow-hop and tried to kick up his heels.

"Easy," chuckled the farmer, "Easy there young fella... we'll get you out to meet the rest." Glancing back over his shoulder as he guided her son, the old farmer looked back to the broodmare. "Come along, Momma, or your boy's gonna leave you behind. He's in a hurry."

The mare whickered softly, a sound of patience and happiness as she quietly ambled along behind the farmer and her excited colt. She could feel how tightly he was wound - ready to spring and bolt and buck and run. Ready to test out his legs and investigate the wondrous new world that had just been revealed to him.

The walk to the big pasture seemed to take forever but then, suddenly, there was the grand gate before them. The mare bobbed her head at the farmer, her colt's excitement becoming an infectious thing as she found herself eager to show him off. With a chuckle, the farmer pushed the gate open and ushered the two inside, careful to move back before the colt had a chance to whip around and kick up jubilant heels to the sky. Like one, the two burst forward into the lush paddock green, even the old broodmare lowering her head, arching her back and giving a couple of healthy sunfishing bucks to celebrate her freedom.

The others met them halfway, but the mother horse was careful. Protective and proud, she sidestepped the others and led her colt off towards the one that waited... the one that watched with expectant eyes beneath an unruly thick shank of forelock. She would know the beautiful form of her colt's sire anywhere, just as she remembered every one of the piebald patches of black upon that pristinely white coat.

The colt's eyes widened as they approached, the old broodmare sliding between the two out of instinct, always protecting her baby.

Pleased, the stallion extended his neck, taking in his son's scent and the young colt whickered excitedly. It was a deep throaty rumble, but it was the sound that the colt felt like he'd been waiting all his life to hear...

"Hello, my son. Welcome to the herd."