The Horse Man

Memory

Sometimes when I sit with my horses, I rewind my memory to think on things that have happened during my lifetime. Now is such a time. The sun is just warm, the mares are soaking it up, and the young stallions are playing games before it gets too hot to run and buck. Rory, a colt sired by Bellerephon out of my finest Irish mare, pauses in his mad gamboling to perform a levade, and I remember when I first came to Eire.
It was many years ago. Perhaps three thousand. Perhaps more, perhaps less.
I do not know why I decided to sail over the strip of sea to that fog enshrouded island which the local people of the opposite shore said was inhabited by a fierce race of holy sorcerers, who enthralled the unwary with their spells and caused them to sail aimlessly for the remainder of their lives. I was sitting on the sea shore, looking out at the clouds that told me that an island was there. And I thought; I will go there.
I built a ship, a barge to carry my horses. It took me a long time, the local people were afraid to risk the anger of the Holy People by helping me. Idiots. Then one clear day, I sailed across, landed in a harbor, and let my horses down. The hair on my neck was as bristle, for I could sense that there was something... unnatural here. My horses were uneasy, rolling their eyes and ignoring the lush expanse of green grass.
Perhaps I would have left, perhaps I would have gone onwards, but the decision was not made when over the crest of a hill came a man astride a tall, beautiful horse. Despite the loyal love which I held for my own dear desert horses, I could not help gaping in awe at this magnificent creature. His haunches were powerful, his back no longer than those of my own dear ones, his head proud and his eyes intelligent. As I stared, he crouched on his haunches and lifted his fore away from the ground in a measured movement which I took for a greeting.
I scarcely heard his rider greet me kindly and offer me and my horses hospitality.
I stayed with them many years, and they showed me wonders that are now unknown to this world, yet nothing was of more wonder to me than the harmony they displayed with their animals.
Now I ride sometimes in this manner simply to remember them.
When their race was obliterated, they took many of their secrets and wonders to the earth with them, and to my mind it was a good thing. But the blessing of mounted harmony they shared with me, and also with others.
As my vision clears and I am again on a ranch in Montana, I wonder if that treasure of harmonious movement is still cherished even now, where people have cast horses aside as being obsolete?

                      

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