APPLEBLOSSOM'S DEAD
It was my favorite time of day when everything went black on me.
I don't remember my heavy body dropping in one giant thud to the ground, or how much time had passed when I became aware again.
But, time had passed, and things were not as they should be.
The other trail horses ran nervously in circles around the dusty corral. In the center of the corral by the watering trough, a horse lay dead. It was extraordinary because it looked very much like me!
There were some things grossly odd about this though.
The body was stiff, while the belly bloated from the gasses inside almost to the point of popping. Flies were swarming heavily above waiting to lay their lava inside the dying flesh. One black eye stared up at me, vacant of life.
It was obvious this couldn't be me!
I sniffed at the poor creature lying there with his mouth gaping and oozing with fluid.
I brought down one big thundering hoof and shook the ground beneath it, but, the grizzly scene remained still and unmoving.
So, the horse laid there as the sun rose higher in the sky for there was nothing more to be done.
The dogs were the first to arrive that morning. They immediately picked up on the pungent smell of death and the four of them gathered around the obese
rising mound. I recognized them easily as answering to the names of Jeez Louise, Montezuma, Turpentine and the wise old leader, Spalding Gray. He would signal them to carefully inspect the rare find before proceeding, but I knew by the end of the day the poor creature would be eaten.
I was relieved when the people of spurs and leather saddles, came at last and shooed the dogs away. The circle of hunched figures in felt hats became even larger now and completely blocked my view. I knew not one of them for we never became familiar.
Their voices muttered in unison across the corral, “ The horse is dead”, “ The horse is dead”. “ How do we move a dead horse?”
How do you move a dead horse indeed?!
I, myself, was big in stature. I knew I weighed 998 pounds before supper and my dead weight would add even seven more pounds.
They had a big problem on their hands, for certain, for if they waited much longer the chances increased for the maggots to have already eaten through the rotted flesh that lay closet to the ground. If they could keep the body intact then they could roll the deceased over the hill and into the creek down below, where landfill was waiting. But, nobody knew how and the horse sat there longer.
The morning sun turned into the dreaded afternoon heat. The hot breeze picked up and blew dust, hay, and the smell of sulfur into the air. It was not a pleasant day for me, and any plans that were made were certainly ruined.
A small boy of seven, who still ate his buggers, was on the outside corner of the barn attempting to knock down a bird's nest, as he often did. When his aim proved true the reward of six little babies dropped to the ground. He carefully laid them out in a row and guillotined each of their tiny little heads and then smiled in satisfaction. He was a hideous little thing, but in that tiny brain of his, perhaps, it held the answer. I didn't speculate any further on the matter because a painfully noisy tractor arrived at the gate. Several men entered and appeared to be taking down a back section of the fence. We were all ushered in one big storm of rising dust, into a holding section. Things quickly became intense! The tractor roared, the earth shook, the men shouted and the other horses reared up and bellowed.
What a hideous sight to witness!
The creature was shown little dignity. Where is the honor in its large pink tongue dangling from the side of its mouth? Where is the honor in the lose of bowels? The tractor only smoked, than it spewed out one final cloud of exhaust before shutting down. The horse could not be moved so it lay there longer yet.
The men, who, by no means, were of any special intelligence, discussed the obvious at great lengths. They spat tobacco, chewed on beef jerky in the midst of swarming flies, and urinated with no consideration of aim. The dogs had returned unable to resist the delightful smell and several small children approached and became spectators to this morbid live theater.
I wondered what it must be like to be dead. I wonder what humiliation it must be? Did memories still linger yet? Was there longing to rise? Was their desire to speak? I wondered if this poor spectacle of reaper's capture could feel it's bones being broken free from rigamortis as they attempted one last time to curve it's foul body into the bucket? Oh, how lucky I was to be alive and I didn't have to endure the horrors I saw before me! The hooves could not be tied together and the body sprawled back out of the scoop like a fat old fellow in a lawn lounger after a six-pack.
The horse rolled out onto the ground and could not be moved once more.
The afternoon grew late and the air of desperation could be felt.
But the manner in which the horse was treated had become softer. A cloth was gently tucked under all of it and was left peacefully in the shadows. Soft wining and nickering returned to the corral. It was better this way.
Who was this unfortunate one? Why had I not had their acquaintance? It was impossible to know everyone here, yet this still baffled me. I liked to think I was considerate of my manner and cordial with my greetings.
As soon as the sun had set behind the trees the men returned in confident stride, each with cans of kerosene, matches and a long hose. My eyes widened, my breath rose and my chest pounded! Did they mean to burn this creature right here before my eyes?! What cruel hearts had entered them during their absence?!
The liquid was poured, the matches lit, and in one sudden burst, before I could protest, the mass of remains became one big bonfire!
The insanity of it all!
The horses scattered frantically and each paced quickly from one side of the fence to the other looking for a way out.
Suddenly, an unexpected wind picked up and carried a potion of the charred blanket up into the air and into the top of a tree by the barn. The treetop quickly caught on fire and spread to the wooden shingles next to it.
The man ran for their hoses ignoring the horses trapped in the back corral, but, it was too late. The heat and dryness of the day made it easy for the entire area to be consumed in one big fiery gulp.
The fire started during my favorite part of the day. I don't remember how the gate opened before me or how long I had been running free, but, when I did, I knew things were not as they should be. I galloped at full speed under the moon. I sped as fast as could go alongside the lake. I went on and on into the night, only turning once to see the fiery spectacle behind me. What an extraordinary day this had been, How ironic indeed! It was a good thing that horse, with the one black staring eye, had not been me!
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