Tonight, for the first time in my life, I saw a horse try to kill someone.
Tonight, a horse tried to kill me.
I’ve got a nasty bitemark on my thigh but am otherwise unharmed. The other person wasn’t seriously hurt either. But if I hadn’t happened to come by when I did, she might well be trampled red rags now.
There’s a woman (call her “DQ”) at my barn who made the mistake of buying a green off-the-track Thoroughbred, intending to make him into a dressage horse, when she’s not a capable rider. Over the year or so that she’s owned “Bayboy”, her flapping legs, bouncing seat, jabbing hands, and frequent whippings have turned a sweet-natured, willing guy into a sour, shutdown, angry explosion waiting to happen.
Before tonight, things had already spiraled so far down that she’s afraid now to ride him and thinking of trying to sell him. But this was a step into a new realm.
I just happened to pull into the barn around 6:00 p.m. – not my usual evening visit time, but I had a cut lip on my horse Bennie to attend to. Was it Providence that put me there then? As I parked the car I glanced into the lighted indoor ring, and saw DQ with Bayboy, spinning in a tight circle.
Double-take: DQ is trying to pick up the longe line trailing between Bayboy’s front legs with one hand, while the other grips the clip at the halter and struggles to fend off his head as, with teeth bared, he tries to savage her. She’s sobbing and stumbling and my God she might fall under his trampling front hooves at any moment! No one was around to help.
I ran into the ring, shutting the open gate behind me, grabbed the longe line near the halter, and told DQ to run for it. Bayboy stopped when I took hold. As DQ retreated, I bent over cautiously to try to get the longe line away from his front legs.
Bayboy slammed his head down, teeth bared and gaping, and savaged my thigh. I shrieked and punched his head, got him off me – and he struck again, at my shoulder. I warded him off, grabbing his halter’s noseband to keep his head away, and we lurched toward the side of the ring. I managed to fend him off till he stopped long enough for me to unclip the longe line and bolt for the side gate. Thankfully, instead of pursuing me Bayboy veered off to the far end of the ring.
DQ was sobbing but not hurt other than a wrenched shoulder. I was shaking and my thigh hurt like hell, but Bayboy hadn’t managed to break the skin through my thick winter breeches. When I’d pulled myself together, I took charge of getting Bayboy out of the ring: got a couple of lead ropes, and went back in the arena. Bayboy was standing quietly in a corner, sniffing at stuff, as I walked up calmly, speaking soothingly to him. He let me clip my rope to one side of his halter, and stayed calm as DQ timidly approached and clipped hers rope on the other side. Then we led him back to his stall, alert to haul him off if he went for one of us. But, having succeeded in getting out of having to work for the person he’s come to hate, he was well-behaved.
I had a sober, straightforward talk with DQ afterwards: that she’s the wrong owner for this horse; that she can’t sell him to anyone else because he’s going to hurt someone; and that if the dealers she bought him from won’t take him back, she’ll have to put him down. I think she’s finally able to see what’s been apparent to everyone else at the barn for months now. Bayboy has to go, one way or another, or he’s eventually going to kill her.
I hate like hell the thought that he’ll have to be put down for the folly and incompetence of the human who owns him. But he’s just too dangerous now. For months I’d been hoping someone would buy him and save what was once a lovely, good-minded young horse. Now… I think it’s too late.
DAMN.