Love Hurts

We thought he might be more motivated to move around if he rejoined the herd.  And he was, for a little while.  He made his way back to the end of the pasture closest to my house where I could see him when he laid down to nap.  I napped, too, sitting up in bed here and there to glance out the window to see how he was.   Eventually he stood up and made his way back to the barn, away from the mares, and laid back down for another nap.

The thought occurred to me that monitoring him this way was going to be impossible.  We couldn't see if he was eating or drinking here.  If we wanted manure as an assurance of happy gastronomic events, well, he was surrounded by it from days long since past... no mention of his pasturemates who were  having no issues in that department.  Plus, it was hot and unmercifully sunny.  I worried his temperature would spike and dehydration would take hold.

I walked down to the barn to grab his halter and lead rope, wanting to bring him back into the coolness of a stall.  My mom met me at the back door of the barn to discuss.  While we stood there, the mares walked in toward the barn, one-by-one.  Fansi gave slumbering Moe a glance, and kept walking.

Trinity approached Moe second.  She put her muzzle on top of his head and drew a long breath in, then moved down, seeming to stroke his neck with her nose.  Tears sprung to my eyes as I witnessed this tender act between my historically witchy mare and this fragile shadow of Moe's former self.  I wanted to throw my arms around her in gratitude for showing such uncharacteristic compassion; I wanted to bawl my eyes out; I wanted to curl up with Moe and Trinity tucked up to my chest like the world's biggest stuffed animals.

"Oh, look!"  Mom breathed, her words nearly liquid with emotion.

And then, Trinity squealed.

Turning her rump to a barely-sitting-upright Moe, she struck at him with her back hooves.  I don't know how many times she kicked, or how many times she made horrifying contact with his already-aching sides.  He lurched to his feet and was shuffling backwards as quickly as he could in his haze, but she was much faster.  Shouting and waving frantically, I managed to halt her sudden outburst and coax Moe back into a safer spot.

Herd animals are biologically programmed to push away weakened and dying members for the good of the rest of the herd.  When a herd animal is compromised, they tend to slow everyone else down and attract attention from the wrong kind of animals.  Was Trinity acting as alpha mare and pushing out a herd member who would only bring them harm?  Was she putting Moe back in his second-in-command place after he'd had a day of too much attention from the humans?  Was she just psycho, plain-and-simple?

Whatever motivated her to act that way, it was heart-wrenching to watch.