And a Happy New Year to All - January 1, 2008

A few minutes before the 2009 New Year began I stepped outside our cabin. I’d been feeling restless and needed to walk off the pizza and apple pie that I’d just consumed. I was also concerned about Tinni; his poop had been loose, and he was moving a bit more slowly than usual. Memories of the lethargy that accompanied his previous year’s bout with pneumonia had came back to mind. At about 6 p.m. I’d blanketed him and given him some warm water baited with molasses.

As if programmed, I made my way to the enclosure and entered Siggi’s pen. Boom! Boom! Boom! I did a double-take and Siggi did a 360, bouncing into the gate that separates his small pen from that of Raudi and Tinni’s. I looked over at the pair and saw four eyes that were illuminated by the light of my headlamp and the outline of Tinni’s maroon blanket.

Boom, boom, boom – Siggi flew about the pen like a horse possessed, and again hit the gate. I considered opening it, but I feared that he and Tinni would spar. If this happened, Tinni might again open Siggi’s shoulder laceration. I decided to keep the gate closed. The wound was about healed, and I didn’t want to chance it’s opening again.

I could just see it, Dr. Farris having to make her first emergency call of the New Year. She wouldn’t appreciate this, given that the thermometer read -15. I exited the pen, thinking that perhaps my presence might be making a bad situation worse.

It did, however, seem like a good idea, sticking around for a bit I grabbed the shovel, rake, and muck bucket. I was pleased to see that Tinni’s poop was now firmer. Boom, boom, boom. Siggi, who had had enough, was now heading full tilt, towards the gate. Crunch, bang, boom, boom, boom. I leapt backwards, as he horse half-stumbled, half-fell over the only thing that that separated him from his companions. He raced over to them, and the threesome, now energized, galloped about the perimeter of the pen—I could see eyes, hear the thudding of their hooves on the hard snowy ground.

I stepped outside the larger enclosure, and yelled at the top of my lungs for Pete because I was scared shitless. If say, Siggi was hurt, I’d need an immediate assist. Pete came running, and I told him in short, near-breathless sentences what had happened. It went something like this: Siggi broke out. The fireworks, boom, boom, boom. Busted though the gate, nearly knocked me over. Gotta see if he’s okay. I hear him, he must be okay. Do you think he’s okay? What if he’s not okay, what are we going to do?

Pete and I walked over to Siggi, who when he saw us, stopped and lowered his head. “He’s fine,” Pete said.

Pete strode back to the gate, with the ever-curious Raudi and Tinni at his heels. Siggi moved forward with great caution, and I followed him. The gate was hanging close to the shelter, on one hinge, and had a u-shaped bend in the middle. A clump of Siggi’s mouse-gray hair clung to the topmost rail. The water bucket and holder had been knocked off the wall.

It just didn’t make sense to me, that Siggi had busted out and remained unscathed. And so, I again approached him, and ran my hands over his body. He was fine. Boom, boom, boom, He pulled away and raced off, doing a series of half-snorts. Raudi joined him and also began huffing. Tinni ignored the pair and shuffled over to fence. It was, he believed, his turn to stand guard. This, the fence watch, is mainly Tinni’s job, although Raudi will do it when he’s eating. Siggi has never participated in this endeavor. I truly believe that if he lived in the wild, he’d have been eaten by now.

Pete went back uphill to take care of the goats, and I resumed poop scooping. I let my mind wander. A neighbor, who we call Idiot Boy, had set off the pyrotechnics. He’s an ugly drunk, so this wasn’t anything that I could approach him about. Our other neighbors are seldom around, so its generally fairly peaceful where we live.

Scott’s whose cabin is directly across from us, and another couple, whose land is further down the road, live in Anchorage and come here to get away from it all. The latter also own the land on our left, and have determined that it shall never be developed. Ryan, who owns the property behind us, puts in a brief appearance every year or so. And we seldom see Nancy, the professional adventurer. She owns the land above us, and to our right.

Siggi had done an excellent job of ringing in the New Year. Overall, we’d been lucky. Raudi was now on her way to becoming a seasoned trail horse, and Pete had done a fine job backing Siggi. And Tinni had remained healthy, in spite of having COPD or chronic heaves.

We’d also found a fellow who had a small hay field, and was able to supply uswith good local hay. The bales were light, but had not been rained on. Yes, we were, and continue to be fortunate, but what about others? This past year, local hay prices reached an all time high. Plus, this winter is looking to be a bit colder than usual. I have a special place in my heart for Icelandic horses, because I own three of them. But its my hope that this year is good one for horses in general. They give us so much, and so I feel that we’re obligated to reciprocate. They don’t need much, just adequate shelter, good food, clean environs, quality veterinary care, regular farrier work, and companionship.

My thoughts were interrupted by Pete, who had finished tending to the goats, and by now had figured out how to reattach the gate.

“Everything okay?” he asked.
I looked up at the stars, which twinkled brightly in the sky above.
“Just fine,” I replied. Return to Alys's Photos.