a couple of birthdays and the gift of connection

This morning I was awakened by Kyra Corgi, who I believe thought I was rudely sleeping in when clearly it was breakfast time. Six a.m. I got up, fed her and the felines, and decided to repeat my lazy woman's way of feeding early morning hay - open the gates and let the equines have at the round bale.

It was still covered by the tarp I put over it last night in advance of the rain that came through, but I figured (correctly) that the horses and donkeys would nibble around the edges and get plenty.

Since they spent at least part of the night in their stalls due to the rain, there was some mucking to do. I did most of it and then came back in for coffee and a break before feeding breakfast tubs.

When I went back out, the sun had burst through the clouds, and as I finished up the last of the mucking, down at the far end of the dirt paddock, I thought: I should probably take the tarp off and let the bale air out since it's going to rain again tonight and it will have to be covered again.

But I needed to finish mucking, and let go of the thought. Then I heard a loud crackling noise and looked back to the barnyard. Keil Bay was dragging the tarp completely off the round bale. It was a big tarp, and it required him to take it in his teeth and walk away to pull it, which is exactly what he did. And then he looked at me, and it was clear he was saying: there you go. 

A few moments later a big wind blew through the barnyard, but up high, so that suddenly, in the morning sunshine, all the big trees did a shimmy, like horses shaking after a roll, loosing raindrops that looked like twenty little rain showers all around the barn.

We're celebrating two birthdays this weekend. Keil Bay is 21 and Apache Moon, also known fondly as the Little Man and The Pony, is 10.

They got an entire bag of baby carrots yesterday, and will get more in the way of shared treats for the herd today and probably again tomorrow. But it occurs to me. How do you say happy birthday to a horse that means the world to you?

Anyone who reads here regularly knows we have a special herd of equines. And I love them all dearly. But Keil Bay is very special to me. He's the horse I found late one night when I typed my ideal criteria into dreamhorse.com and he's the one horse that popped up when I hit "search."

There was little doubt when I met him that he was the horse for me. Ever since he came to live with me, first at a boarding barn and then to November Hill, he has showered me with gifts.

When I needed to overcome a slight fear of his huge trot, he did a very elegant spook at the gait to show me I was secure in the saddle. When I worried some over his huge canter, he did a spook and spin that was so balanced and elegant all I knew was that one moment we'd been cantering one way, and the next, we were going in the opposite direction. There was nothing anyone could have said or done that made me more secure than those two elegantly executed spooks. In a matter of a few moments, Keil Bay proved to me that I could ride anything he might offer.

One afternoon he took me over a few baby jumps in the arena and reminded me what it felt like to ride as a girl, many years back, with no fear and the pure joy of going fast and going airborne.

He twirls lead ropes and tosses halters to entertain me while he waits for his breakfast. He does yoga stretches that make me smile. He turns radio dials from classical to rock and bobs his head when the chiropractor hasn't yet found the spot that needs adjusting.

Keil Bay is often referred to as The King around here. And I often say he's The King of All Horses. But what Keil Bay is really the King of is Bringing Me Great Joy, and sometimes I wish I knew what I could do to thank him for that.

A riding teacher told me when I first brought Keil Bay home that he didn't need constant rewards from me. That the reward for him, just as it was for me, was the connection we shared. That as much as it meant to me when we read one another's minds, and found moments of pure harmony during a ride, and shared humor and fun, it meant equally as much to him. And that was the reward for both of us.

She was right.

Thank you, Keil Bay, for being my dream horse. And a very happy birthday to you and to the Little Man.