The Instigator

I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck as Ransom walked beside me, puffing frosty breaths into the frozen morning. He’d been cooped up in his stall over the weekend and his eyes gleamed with the anticipation of joining the herd of geldings I had turned out together in the field. As I closed the gate and buckled my now empty halter on the fence, “the boys” went through their ritual greeting – a sniff and a squeal.

Ransom pranced around trying to get a reaction, like a mischievous child who misbehaves to get attention. He tossed his head and stuck his tail straight up in the air. Play with me! But the older horses weren’t interested in the antics of this obnoxious youngster. He pushed his way through the group, nipping playfully at Noble’s belly.

Noble ignored him.

Nip, nip, nip.

Noble pinned his ears, irritated.

Nip, nip, nip.

Finally, Noble lifted a hind leg, gave Ransom the tail, and walked away. Undeterred, Ransom took off after him, bucking with exuberance. Zone the paint lifted his head to watch him frolic past, then went back to scouring the hard ground for something to eat.

With no playmates willing to tear around the field or engage in mock battle, Ransom eventually settled into the boring, mature task of grazing. For now.