Horse Logic
The Grass Is Always Greener
by Nicole Birkholzer
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that we had to spread out in the woods and search for the horses. As we headed toward the woods, a woman arrived on foot in the driveway, calling out that the horses were at our neighbor's house where she was visiting. Up the quarter-mile driveway we ran. This was scary. The neighbor's property was right off the state highway. I wondered
Kristen Vallejo
everal years ago I co-hosted a two-day writing workshop at our then new property in the hills of Southern Vermont. For part of the day, we connected with my herd — my palomino Quarter Horse, Cutter, in particular — to ground us. The rest of the time we wrote. The day after the workshop my sister and I took our coffee out on the deck to
Shana, Monarch, Cutter, Nicole, and farm dog Scout.
relax and watch the horses in the pasture below. The moment I stepped onto the deck, my body contracted. Where were the horses? I had let them out of the smaller fenced-in enclosure into the large pasture just before I had poured my coffee. I called out to Shana, my Arabian mare. She usually responds to my calling and whistling, but I didn't hear her neigh, nor did she come running. A slight panic set in, and I felt adrenaline running hot through my veins. The pasture was surrounded by a thicket of woods that was hardly penetrable. I had gotten into the habit of letting the horses graze in the big field with supervision even though we had not yet installed fencing around the perimeter. “They must have escaped,” I said to my sister. "We’ve got to look for them. I grabbed two halters and yelled to my partner, David, 56
Community Horse Spring/Summer 2022
if the horses had walked up the driveway. Had they traveled along Route 9? As I came to the end of our driveway and looked around the bend, I saw both Cutter and Shana standing in the neighbor’s front yard, heads down. Phew. They were grazing and not in a panic. I took a deep breath as I walked toward them, slowing down my pace, and took in the scene. Both horses stood in raised vegetable beds, Cutter among broccoli and zucchini while Shana was near the onions. Both horses were eating the tall, juicy grass growing outside the wooden walls of the raised beds. I called out, “Cutter, Shana, hi!” The moment Cutter heard my voice, he lifted his head, and his eyes changed from relaxed to concerned. I literally saw the thought plastered on his face: “Hell no!” He was not going to let me put a halter
