His footsteps lie preserved, at least while the chill air keeps the fields snowbound. I am fascinated to see where the beast has walked. Apart from a few trips to the water trough and some loitering where he is fed, excursions seem to have been idle rambling affairs going here and there as he pleased.
What do the tracks tell me about his soundness? Whilst recovering from spavin, he seems to be movng better than previously. I photographed a complete stride, then the conjoined marks of left feet and right feet.
He made this string of tracks by trotting the length of the field, for I had arrived and he divined correctly that I had apples in my pockets. (I have a strange vision of questioning him: "have I apples or carrots?") The tracks seemed quite even, the relationship between front and hind foot placement similar for left and right.
Isn't it curious too how different in shape are fore and hind hooves? And how much bigger the front feet are? Well, they do carry more weight. Supposedly, hind feet are longer in order to yield more leverage for propulsion, though one does wonder how much of the wealth of "equestrian lore" has a basis in reality? But this gem seems reasonable enough.
Spending so much time in the office, I feel remote from the outdoors and the world of horses. Not that I have spent too little time trudging around in snow and mud so far in this varied life. However I do have the sense that Doru is meant to teach me things, and that I have much left to learn. I have heard of medicine horses, and I doubt whether he truly is one such. Yet he seems sent for my enlightenment. As I once seemed bent on walking away from him, now he is teaching me how it is to be ignored. He is showing me his nature, rich and fascinating, which carries so much from ancestors. I need to learn again to relate to him: or, perhaps, to learn to relate more deeply, with greater perception, showing courage. For relationships are not easy, and rarely are they intuitive, but require thought and love and perseverence.
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