There's a more than good chance we'll be getting significant snow tonight and tomorrow, so before I launch out to get things set up (stalls stocked with shavings, water troughs clean and full, horses groomed, groceries, feed store - yikes, I have to do all THAT today?) I wanted to take a few minutes and write about a magical experience I had yesterday afternoon.
It was 60 degrees out, gorgeous skies, really peaceful afternoon. After Salina's morning of bucking and trotting, and her afternoon arena walking with me, I moved her, along with the donkeys, to the front field by themselves so she wouldn't overdo it, and the geldings were in back.
I wandered back to see the boys, and had a sudden impulse to lie flat on the ground so I could see the sky from that angle. The moment I stretched out flat, all three heads were pointed in my direction. Keil Bay and Apache Moon stood where they were, but Cody walked over to check me out.
It reminded me of what an important job he has. Whenever anything scary happens, Cody moves out front to assess the situation. Generally the pony will move up a few yards from Keil Bay. That's exactly what happened. Cody came right up to me, and then spooked a little bit, as if he were shocked to see me lying down. The pony came about halfway between me and Keil.
It was clear Cody was concerned, so I sat up. He immediately relaxed and began to graze right in front of me. The pony went back to grazing and Keil Bay approached and began to graze just behind Cody.
Although the sky was beautiful from a reclined position, I forgot about it. I had slipped into herd mind. Without really thinking about what I was doing, I stood up. Immediately, Keil Bay came to stand beside me, and Cody took a step away, to give space to Keil. The pony stayed where he was.
Keil Bay put his head into my hands for a moment, and then, again without thinking, I moved. As I moved, I realized I was in sync with the herd. We all took the same number of steps, in the same direction. Our heads all went to the front field, to see Salina and the donkeys, then returned to our own space.
I suddenly smelled something and Keil Bay and I lifted our heads together and both took simultaneous deep breaths, trying to figure out what it was. We lowered our heads at the same moment, then took more steps in the direction of the gate.
It lasted about two minutes. But during that brief time, I was not me making conscious decisions to move and breathe and look. I was one of the herd, doing what they do, as one entity. It was a wonderful experience.