I was farm-sitting for a friend.
When I went to feed the horses in the evening
(hay in the evening and alfalfa in the morning),
I saw a piece of prickly pear cactus
stuck on the lip of one of them,
the smaller horse, Sherlock, I think is his name.
I meant to remove it with a stick,
but the horse is wily and eluded me
until I finally trapped him in the corner
where the two fences meet.
I tried to hold his head while I removed the cactus,
but Sherlock fought me off,
pulling back, wrenching his head free,
and then he turned his rear to me
and I thought he was going to kick me
like a horse did to my aunt when she was young,
right in her chest.
Knocked her back a few meters and broke a rib.
I wanted nothing of that.
Back at the feeding trough,
I poked some hay through the door
and when Sherlock reached his head forward,
I knocked that cactus off his lip
with one pure gold whack with the stick.
Annie Oakley couldn’t have had a better aim.
Fishing the cactus out of the trough was a trick in itself.
I certainly didn’t want Sherlock to accidentally eat it.
I reached in with my hand and gently pulled it out,
but I flinched when the horse knocked my hand
with his head and the cactus flew up and stuck on my shirt.
I looked at it for a few moments,
hanging there near my belly,
and then I walked with that cactus still stuck on my shirt
all the way to the fence line,
where I knocked it off with my stick.
I really should get some overalls and some rubber boots.
I think I was made for this farming life.