As it came nearer
towards me, I saw in a flash the probable explanation for the pony
galloping along there by itself. It had a length of rope trailing
from its head bridle, and at the end of the 5 metres long rope was tied
a small broken sapling fir tree, which was being dragged along the road
behind the frightened animal. It was obvious that it had been tethered
to the sapling, somewhere far away, and something had frightened and caused
this tough little horse to tug and uproot it. It had then bolted
and galloped off .......and now found itself in danger of being hit by
a car or a lorry on this twisting narrow road.
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I ran towards the pony waving
my arms stretched out wide and shouting "whoa....whoa".
It slowed down a little, but it started to swerve to one side to avoid
me. As its head came close to me its eyes were open wide in panic
and its mouth was foaming. I tried to grab the head bridle, but it
dodged and threw its head up and I missed it. Then as its rump and
tail went rushing past I leapt sideways, turned halfway around, and
landed with both feet on top of the trailing sapling...... with my shoes
either side of the knot around the stem........ and then I was facing the
rear of this galloping pony. ( I was a very nimble lightweight
gymnast when I was younger ). I teetered and almost lost my
balance as I was dragged bodily along, wobbling violently. But I
managed to stay upright, and my present 89 kilos weight served as an anchor,
and trapped and held the dragging sapling under my shoes, which had the
effect of turning its head and bringing the runaway pony to a sudden halt
in the middle of the road. |
Its four legs splayed out
and its hooves clattered and skidded in all directions on the tarmac for
a moment...... but it stayed there....... and stood quite still gasping
and frothing at the mouth. We stared at each other.
Just then three more cars
came around the bend. They saw us in time, braked, and slowed down,
and the people inside them saw me stoop down to pick up the sapling and
the rope. Alas they mistakenly assumed that the animal was mine.
As they swerved and went past me several drivers and passengers wound down
their windows and bellowed insults at me. Some accused me (unjustly)
of being drunk in charge of the horse, and others ( incredibly )
shouted two vulgar street words, implying that I did not have any brains,
and that I did not know who my father was ......... and all accompanied
by a furious cacophony of loud discordant car horns..!
I speak fluent Spanish as
you know, but there was no time to make explanations. They wouldn't
stop. So I just lowered my eyes, and changed the expression on my
face to one of those pitiful resigned expressions that you see on the faces
of martyred saints in religious paintings and statues in churches .....
and quickly gathered up the rope and gently tugged it to turn the horse
around. Then I led it to the side of the road. The people
in the cars continued to hurl insults at me as they accelerated away, outdoing
each other in their invective as they disappeared around the bend still
sounding their car horns.
As the blaring klaxons faded
in the distance I had a closer look at this beast that I had saved from
certain injury or death. It was a magnificent stallion.
And he was big as Shetland ponies go. His shoulders reached as high
as my belly button...! He had a golden coloured coat of shiny smooth
short hair, a flaming long blonde mane, and a long blonde tail. He
was very clean and healthy looking, and in superb prime condition.
He was obviously a well cared for and much loved animal. But
who loved him...? Where was his owner....? Where
had he come from...? There was not a house in sight in these bleak
deserted barren foothills of the Sierra Nevada, a long way south of Granada.
What to do..?
Well ..... I did toy
with the idea of leading him into my motor home through the side door.
But quickly dismissed that flawed brain wave, for the same reason that
you never take a bull into a china-ceramic shop...! But
I had to do something. And I had to do it quickly, for my very wide
motor home was half blocking the narrow road. So I hurriedly led
the animal about fifty metres along the road, to a spot where I could see
there was a patch of level ground at the side. There I untied
the useless sapling and with the rope I tethered the Sheltie to a stout
tree trunk. Then I ran back to the van, and drove it on to
the flat piece of ground and parked it safely. When I stepped
down from the van the horse gave me a little whinny.......as if to say..."Thanks"
His eyes were now calm .... but sad...... and they clearly said "What
are you going to do with me now..?" Then he hung his head down
low. Plainly he wanted to go home. What should I do....?
The froth around his snout
made me realise that he must need a drink of water. So I went into
my van and filled a bowl from the tap in my kitchen-galley. I carried
it outside and offered it to him, holding the bowl in front of me level
with his head. He sniffed it, then dipped his lips in and sucked
thirstily. The foam around his snout quickly disappeared.
| While he drank I had a long
think about what to do next. What I decided to do was to walk
this loveable beast into the town of Lanjaron, which I knew was about 2
kilometres ahead .....in the direction from which the Sheltie had come
from. So when he had finished drinking, I put the bowl away,
locked the doors of the van, untied the rope from the tree, and we started
to walk.
It was a pleasant walk.
We stayed on the left side of the road facing the occasional traffic coming
towards us. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. Passing
cars slowed down and gave us a wide berth as they went by. Children
in the cars waved at us. The horse obediently followed as I led it
along by its long rope over my shoulder. And although the thought did cross
my mind that the beast was strong, and could - just - bear my weight for
a short distance ...... I resisted the temptation to jump on his back and
ride him. Bare back horse riding is for experts only. |
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I have had enough troubles
in the past riding horses with saddles, stirrups, and reins. So I
- we - walked.
While we walked I remembered
that Gerald Brennan walked this way 90 years ago, and wrote about it in
his famous book 'South of Granada'...... and I wondered if the scenery
had changed much since his time.
Occasionally I felt a tug
of the rope. And when I looked around I saw that my horse was nibbling
at some bush or plants. But he didn't linger for long, and we continued.
He seemed to trust me and he was happy. And so was I.
Eventually we came to the
edge of the town of Lanjaron. I knew that it is
famous as a Spa town. Natural mineral spring water gushes out of
the ground there in great health giving profusion, and hundreds of people
are to be found in the many spa hotels in Lanjaron, all of them there
for a 'cure' by 'taking the waters'. The
first large building that we came to was a 'Balneario' spa
hotel. There were dozens of elderly people sitting at tables on the
terrace overlooking the road .....all quietly and unenthusiastically sipping
big glasses of mineral water. They all stared at nothing,
silent, sullen and morose, and looked as if they were bored out of their
minds. Some were in need of entertainment I suppose, because suddenly
a man stood up, pointed, and mockingly called out in Spanish......." Mira
que caballo mas pequeñito".... and quickly the cry was taken
up by many others who jumped to their feet, pointed at my horse, and in
ridiculing tones shouted " Que pequeño"......"Que pequeñito"
..... and other similar remarks voiced loudly in scornful tones..
I felt a tug from the rope,
and looking around, I saw that my horse had stopped again.
From the look in his eyes I could see that he understood and resented the
remarks. He was born in Spain. All Spanish horses are haughty
and proud. They are the noblest of all animals, and they know it.
Of whatever breed they are, any Spanish horse will refuse to admit to any
incompleteness of stature. Pequeñito indeed...!
Then he showed his displeasure and disdain at the insult ....by lifting
his long blonde tail and defecating a big pile of steaming droppings in
front of the water-swilling invalids....! Then he walked on
with his head held high and swished his magnificent tail from side to side.
The water imbibers hooted with laughter.....and above the guffaws I heard
an elderly lady croak "Muy bien hecho caballito" ......... and then she
cackled and cackled as the others all continued laughing, as we two
disappeared around the next bend in the road.
Soon we were in the centre
of the town. I asked some people for directions ..... and quickly
arrived outside the Police Station. I tethered my friend to a lamppost
and went inside. A bored looking Sergeant seemed very
uninterested about my wish to inform him that I had found a lost horse.
He started to make some notes, but didn't even bother to raise his head
to look out of the window at it. Do horses go astray every day in
Lanjaron..? But just as I began to elaborate my story again
in the hope that he would do something positive...... a Guardia rushed
in from the street, and with a stern face demanded of me......" Did you
bring that horse here...? " And when I confirmed it,
his face broke into a smile. Then he said that he had just been speaking
to a man who had reported to him that his Shetland pony had disappeared.
It belonged to his family who lived in a farmhouse on the edge of Lanjaron
......and at that very moment they were all rushing around the countryside
searching for the missing animal. The Guardia had the owner's
mobile phone number, and quickly a call was made. Ten minutes later
a car pulled up, and a man and a lady, and a tearful little girl aged about
ten, jumped out of the car. They were the owners, and they were all
re-united with their beloved "Samson" ......for
that I learnt is his name. The little girl threw her arms around
the neck of her beloved pony...... and cried and cried tears of joy.
I was taken to a nearby pavement
café-restaurant and refreshed with a cool drink, and Samson got
another bowl of water. It was lunchtime, and they invited me to be
their guest and eat with them right there. While we all ate
it was explained to me that the little girl, Carmen, had that morning gone
for a ride on Samson to the farm of a friend, tethered her mount to a small
young tree in the middle of a patch of long green grass, and took his saddle,
stirrups, and reins off. While Samson nibbled the grass Carmen
went inside the house with her friend. Then a big dog had appeared
from nowhere and started barking at the tethered pony. Before
Carmen and her friend could rush outside and chase the dog away,
Samson had yanked the sapling out of the ground..... and galloped away
in a panic...... pursued by the barking dog. They were last seen far away
in the distance, until they disappeared over a hill. The dog was
an unknown wandering stranger, and was never seen again.
After long explanations by
me as to where and how I found Samson, and after another cool drink, it
was time to say goodbye. We all went out to the car, and the lady
gave me a hug and two Spanish kisses on my cheeks, and her daughter
Carmen, now with a very happy smile on her face, gave me two
more kisses. Mother and daughter then started walking
Samson home, and I was given a lift by dad in the car to my motor
home two kilometres away.
As I continued my journey
I was feeling very pleased about my 'good deed for the day' ...... and
I wondered where I might find a travel companion who will share my travel
adventures with me...?
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