The Geriatrics Return

 

The unthinkable happened. It was so out of the blue that it took several attempts at counting the main herd. After counting four times, the truth had to be accepted. The Geriatrics had come back into the main herd. After months of checking on them as they hunkered down in the far corner of the ranch by themselves, refusing hay and any human help, they decided to move back. They acted as though nothing had changed, like they had lived here all winter. We had led them back, walking the length of the ranch on foot, leading them to hay and the promised land by the house, only to watch them stroll back to the far reaches of the ranch. We worried about them during each storm, found them on foot or on bike as soon as the weather broke each time, only to find them napping and enjoying their little solitude.

Finally, they came back home.

The joy of seeing our beloved old horses came and went quickly. The same day, the same morning actually, that they came back, they disappeared into the hills once again. This time, they took three horses from the main herd with them. They must have told the herd about the riches at the far end of the ranch, the promise of quiet and peace, even as they watched us put out fresh, sweet bales of hay. They watched as the bales dropped into the feeders. They walked the opposite direction, leading the rest of the herd away from the temptation of buffet. The Geriatrics, along with the main herd, disappeared, leaving the bales to endure the cold wind.

The main herd returned the following day, minus The Geriatrics, minus the mule and her mother, minus a broodmare. The main herd looks a little smaller but The Geriatrics look a little fuller.

What this really means is that we get to hike across the snow blown landscape during every storm again. Drat.

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