One time we saw a deer in the orchard, standing at the top of one of the rows. Or at least I saw it - Dusty was giving the grass a loving glance. The deer saw us about the same time I saw her, stock-still, head high; the wind shifted and I think Dusty smelled the deer before he saw her. His head came up and he stared, mesmerized. I didn't know what to expect.
The deer turned and leaped away, and the next thing I knew Dusty was after her. I don't know if he wanted to say "hi" or if it was some long-latent cow-horse herding instinct kicking in, but it was exhilarating and fun and funny all at the same time. I hated to stop him, but the deer was far into the woods and whatever his reason for giving chase, it would have been fruitless. He obeyed, but kept looking back towards the spot he'd last seen her until we topped the next hill.
Dusty had become engaged with life; he cared that you groomed him, he loved his carrots and apples, he nickered at me when I came to see him. He'd calmed down and blossomed into the really sweet, trusting and loving horse he is to this day. The Lunatic Horse had morphed into a sweet and kind, loving and gentle good boy. I don't think it had been S's intention, but kicking us out had been the best thing she could do for Dusty.
Dusty at his barn in Groton:
Dusty on a trail ride. The trail had flooded:
In a postscript: S kept Bonnie for about 2 months, then sold her. After being unceremoniously shown the door for no good reason, and then hearing that she'd sold Bonnie when she had said she wouldn't, I stopped speaking with S for about 5 years. I learned Bonnie's fate later, when we were again on speaking terms.
The woman who bought her was well-intentioned but a newbie owner. She boarded her, and Bonnie had been turned out in a field where they had electric heated water troughs. The one in her turnout went dry and shorted out. She got shocked and then refused to drink for a number of days, but no one realized it until she had a bad colic. She never really fully recovered.
S eventually took her back after a few years, I'm not really sure why. When she got her back, Bonnie's hooves and feet - and Bonnie had had GREAT feet - were a complete mess.
We eventually spoke again (S admitting what a complete bitch she'd been went a long way towards reconciliation; she'd got her indoor ring and new barn in the meantime) and that was when I heard about Bonnie's situation. I visited with her, and she seemed to remember me - or at least the carrots I brought.
She'd been my first horse who would do the "Kiss for Carrots" trick (Dusty knows it too), and my face was covered with orange slobber by the time I ran out of them. I brushed her; she'd always had the most beautiful shiny blood bay coat. Even when she was filthy, that coat shone. She made all the appreciative faces I remembered as I found the "right spots". It was good to see her again. She seemed to be doing pretty well all in all, and I was glad S had got her back.
One day S told me that Bonnie was just in too much pain, that just standing was hard - she'd lost the spark in her eye and her interest in food. S was going to have her put down. Bonnie was 16 years old. She and Dusty were almost exactly the same age - 10 days separated their births. Was it really nine years ago? My gosh.
I got to say goodbye and overload her with carrots a few days before - for carrots, she roused herself. S wouldn't tell me the exact day it would happen, she didn't want me to be there crying, making her cry. She called me when it was done.
Soon after, I moved Dusty back with S, and we were there until I was thrown out again. :) Well, she decided she didn't want to be involved with horses any more, they wanted to sell their place, so Dusty and I had to move along.
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