Fourth of Misery, I Tried

The Fourth of July is a tough holiday for me. As an adult it was always the holiday I spent at my Mom's house and I miss her terribly every year. Also as an animal owner, it is usually nothing but stress.

This year I was determined to change my attitude for my family's sake. The weather was absolutely gorgeous in our area as the hurricane came through far to our east, no humidity hung in the air and blue skies were overhead. A breeze came through every few minutes asking if you might be more comfortable in a jacket.

I tacked up two healthy (grumpy and lazy) ponies for the kids to ride, neither having been sore a day since we started a new routine for them. The little kids begged to be led at the trot, bouncing around joyfully in the saddle. My youngest daughter listened as I explained how to hold the reins and rode solo for just a moment on Pegasus. My oldest two came down to the arena for a longer ride, complicated slightly by the arena grass grown tall enough for bad ponies to snatch a mouthful every few strides.

Even after all the pony riding was done the July air was full of breezes, I looked at Czech and he seemed sad. I'd noticed his low mood for the past week. He had been foot sore getting used to going barefoot, the treatments I was doing to toughen his soles worked as he ran with the other horses in the pasture, still each night going out he seemed not like himself. Czech pins ears and snakes his head when you walk by his stall, always has since he's been here, now when I walked by he just looked at me with loose ears and a blank stare. Another peculiar change, he was letting me freely hug him in his stall without any attempts to eat my clothing or whack me in the back with his nose. Something wasn't right.

I checked his feet again, pushing for signs of sore spots and found nothing. He hadn't been ridden in about 6 weeks, maybe he'd like a little ride. Bareback pad on, I took him down to the arena. Once up on his back, not at all gracefully I might add, I let my barn clogs fall off and hung my bare feet down.

Czech came alive.

He and I went all over the property and down the road. The sun was shining on us. The cool breeze went through my toes as my calf brushed against his sleek warm sides. We began to talk to each other.

Hunter, my oldest son, had asked me earlier in the arena if the horses understood all the words we said to them. My answer was, "Conventional science says, 'no', but what if they are wrong?" I thought about this as I talked to him.

Czech was missing work. Polar opposite of grumpy ponies that morning, Thoroughbreds generally love having a job and having purpose. Something I can relate to on a personal level. I think he was also worried that he was no longer wanted by me since he was not being used. We resolved all of those insecurities.

Back in his stall, he snaked his head as I went by, looking sheepish when I turned around to face him (as usual) and later that day he yanked my shirt a few good times while I picked his stall. He needed that as much as I did.

It was going to be a good day. The kids enjoyed the pool, the food I made turned out awesome, Chris mowed the arena and jump lines for me to ride the next morning, and the only dog I own now was not afraid of noises and could be left crated if needed. We were going out to our small town's celebration.

I left the horses fed, watered, and in clean stalls with fans on high making lots of white noise along with a radio. People in our area had been playing with firecrackers late that afternoon and the boys didn't seem to react to the noise. I was free to enjoy!

And I did. My kids chased fireflies and played with sparklers, then we all sat piled on each other to watch a really great firework display.

Back home we got the kids squared away and I went out to check-in on the boys. They were doing fine. I didn't look like they had even paced during the chaos going on outside. I had read two papers the week prior to the Fourth on "How To Handle Your Horses This Holiday". Each totally contradicting the other. One said to put horses out in a safe area so they could run without hitting things. The other said to keep your horses up to keep them from running into things outside in a panic. Typical horsemanship, it was really anybodies guess on the best thing to do.

It was now after eleven and it seemed like my neighborhood was settling down except for one party that kept aiming their high powered ones straight across the street (away from their property, towards mine). The risk of barn fire seemed higher than the risk of the boys going crazy, I put them out.

Then it really started.

People make it hard to not hate people. It was getting close to midnight as some were just starting. The fireworks used were very high powered ones, almost professional level. Houses that bordered the pasture, one directly across the street, were shooting them off so they went over my pasture.

The horses were okay with the noise at that point, however once they saw a few pop, within a very close distance of them, they lost it.

There was nothing I could do. Going in the pasture to get them and put them up was way too dangerous. All I could do was watch. Back and forth between the brink of tears that the horses were in a situation I couldn't protect them from and rage that we had full displays on all sides just starting in the very late night hours by people who did not care, it was awful. A little lost Chihuahua clung to my foot shivering as we watched.

In the celebration of Independence, I was wishing desperately for more laws and control.

If there were only high powered shows at set times in set areas, everyone could enjoy them and make plans to be safe. Instead children are in the street yards from my fence shooting these things. They were smart enough to aim them away from their own house, just no regard for anyone else's property.

Once it was over, as best I could see in the dark, the horses were okay. This morning it was a different story. Three are very tired but okay, everyone has dried sweat caked in their coat, but Bandon also has a huge gash running down his rib cage. It is borderline serious enough for sutures.

I cleaned the blood from his coat, tearful that I hadn't just left them all up for the night and angry that people who live by a horse farm don't care.

I won't get to ride my freshly mowed arena today on this beautiful morning. Plans I had made a week ago for precious time to ride on my Bandon boy are cancelled.

He will be okay of course and I know there are horses out there this morning, the day after, who will not be okay again. I'm not sure even the breeze between my bare toes riding on Czech and kids chasing fireflies is enough joy to salvage this holiday for me, praying there aren't more tonight.

Update : Of course there were more. Much more. A huge display went on just to the side of our house until nearly midnight on night two. In the photo you can see how large the fireworks are in relation to the full grown trees at the base of it, this is taken from my barn looking across the pasture. I left the boys up until everyone was done and over, exhausted and d.o.n.e. with this whole problem. If it goes to night three, I'm going to be pulling my hair out. Bandon has a lot of swelling I hope to see improved tomorrow.