In the calm glow of the morning sun, it was ridiculously easy to find the path left by my feral herd. They clung to the roads, leaving mountainous clumps of green manure wherever they passed. I ventured out on chalky gravel streets farther from my house than any previous expedition since I moved there. In some locations, the banks of the road dropped sharply into deep ditches lined by tall sullen trees. Corn and soybean fields stretched out endlessly on either side of me as I drove. Occasionally I would discover a remote house guarded by overgrown maple trees.
Alas I found them! My silly bunch of ponies had found the only other horses in our vicinity! They grazed casually in a stranger's yard, discussing mundane equine topics with the lone sorrel on the other side of a small metal corral.
My bike wasn't loud, but Phoenix started at the sound of my approach. Off she went, dashing across the road into the soybean field with her rag-tag band trailing out behind her!
I wasn't sure what to do at this point, as I hadn't thought so far ahead. How would I bring the renegades home? I had some lead ropes and halters in the tail bag on my motorcycle, but there was no way I would be able to lead them on my bike!
The herd sprinted across the beans until they reached the thick cornstalks of the next section. I had never seen any of them run before, and it certainly was a breathtaking site. Phoenix's bright copper coat gleamed against a background of leaves. Her tail flagged high in the air. Her head was held high with nostrils flared and flowing mane streaming out behind. Jazzy paced her then came Zeplin with his own proud Arab tail aloft. Poor young Caly, not quite a year old, and diminutive Chester, with his shorter legs, labored to remain with the group. I could only follow from a distance, keeping them firmly in my sites as I drove alongside the field.
Phoenix running in the pasture (video still)
The row of beans ended abruptly, and Phoenix darted up the embankment back onto the road with everyone else pursuing. I lagged behind them, trying not to panic them further. They paused, nostrils wide, coats soaked with sweat, and sides heaving from effort. I killed the engine of the bike and rested it on its kickstand. Cautiously I approached my little heathens, calling urgently and hiding a rope behind my back.
Phoenix would have none of it. She abruptly spun on her heels and crashed through a ditch into yet another bean field. Her band struggled after her, clearly winded. Phoenix darted through the plants, widening the gap between herself and her herdmates. Distressed to find herself alone, she halted and called to them. Jazzy pressed gamely onward, dropping to a brisk trot. The remaining three slowed but continued to follow their leader to the best of their abilities.
A fence divided the soybean field from the adjacent corn crop. The fence terminated at yet another corn field, but there was a several foot gap between the two fields. Phoenix vanished into the opening, and soon I lost site of the others as well. Frustrated beyond belief and fighting a huge lump in my throat, I backtracked to the nearest road heading west, the direction my ponies had disappeared.
The gravel ended and I found myself on a dirt track heading to a heavily wooded section by the Missouri River. At the edge of the woods was a barbed wire fence with a large metal gate blocking access to the remainder of the dirt path. To my right, a rutted corridor forged its way through tall grass to several machine sheds far back from the dirt track. I pulled into the path and parked my bike.
At the end of the corn row abutting the corridor I could make out the white of Zeplin's coat.
To be continued...
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