Black
Jack’s Tale
a short story straight from the horse’s mouth
I hate winter.
It’s not just the cold and wet, though that’s bad enough. What’s worse is my tummy’s empty. The fields are all soggy and muddy, there’s no grass left and our Dad doesn’t give us enough hay. Ole Skinflint I call him. He’s a nice enough geezer, and kind enough in his own way, but everything revolves round money for him. Reckon he’d sell his wife if he could. It’s horrible being hungry all the time. I must lose loads of weight each winter. I’m usually a cheerful fellow, but all I seem to be able to think about is the empty ache in my stomach.
Trouble is, the summer’s not much better either. With all these droughts we’ve been having the last few years the grass doesn’t grow so much, so we’re short of keep by the end of summer, too. And would he get us extra hay and grazing nuts in summer? Would he, heck!
Of course, there’s too many of us horses here for the amount of land. Don’t know what he keeps us all for. Well, that’s not true. I do know. He just wants to make money from selling us.
What’s that? I can hear some people coming. They’re walking; not in cars. That’s unusual. Are they coming to see us? Don’t suppose they’ve brought some food with them. Wonder what they want.
Oh, it’s Jack and his girlfriend, Kate. They’re always round here. I like them, they usually bring a few scraps with them. Kate’s very fond of horses. Pretty young thing, too. I wish she’d take me home with her; she wouldn’t let me starve. Trouble is, she goes for them fancy horses. A fine bay mare is more her type, not a little Cob like me. Oh, there’s someone else with them as well, Rose, she seems to be called.
Seems Rose likes horses. Maybe if I put on my pathetic look – don’t need to try too hard there – maybe, she’ll take me home with her.
~ ~ ~
So this is my new home. I like my new Mum – Rose. I can tell she’s very fond of me already. There’s loads more grass here, and some lovely looking loose boxes. No other horses, though. Some sheep. Daft things they are! A Hereford heifer – Ollie, they call her. I’d like to get to know her, but she’s in the back field. And I’m in the front field; what they call the Paddock. Come to think of it they’ve got names for all the sheep, too. How quaint. What a funny pair of humans. Don’t know what to make of Mum’s bloke, though. Don’t think he likes horses much, but he seems nice enough.
And they’ve got a couple of goats. Nosey buggers they are. I’ll soon put them in their place. Gosh, there’s so much new. So much to take in. Seems my ship’s come in at last! My mates at Ole Skinflint’s used to say knowing my luck when my ship came in I’d be at the airport! Cheeky sods! Well I’ll show them they were wrong.
Mum confides a lot in me. Says she finds it easier to talk to me than to her bloke. Well, that stands to reason doesn’t it? Am I going to answer back? Can I tell her what I really think? She talks a load of old guff at times, but I’m not complaining. I like her talking to me like that.
She says she’s going to have to go back to work to pay for my keep. Hope that doesn’t mean she resents me. No. Says she wants to ride me. Oo, er. That should be interesting. She knows quite a bit about horses, but she doesn’t seem all that confident. And I don’t like it on the road. Especially those big lorries. Scare the shit out of me, they do!
She’s taken to tying me up to the gate next to the road. Says it’s to get me used to the traffic. I don’t know I want to get used to the traffic, really. But then I suppose if she’s going to ride me we’ll have to go on the road for some of the way. There are no bridleways near here, but she says she’s going to ride me on the footpath just up the road. That’ll make us popular, I don’t think. Hope I don’t get the blame!
We seem to have got into a little routine. Best part of the day is breakfast. She gives me that when she gets home from work in the morning. Brings me into the stable. I get a handful of carrots with my grazing nuts and then a net of hay. Wow, what luxury! I must have put on quite a few pounds already. Seems she goes off to bed then. Funny that. Everyone else is just getting up and she goes to bed. Well, it takes all sorts. She gets up mid afternoon and then ties me to that silly gate for an hour or so. So I get used to the traffic, she says. What nonsense. I’ll never get used to them lorries. They come so close, some of them. Sometimes she practises picking up my feet and cleaning them. As if they need all that cleaning! Then in the evening before she goes off to work she comes in to my stable for a little chat before putting me out in the paddock.
I think Mum’s bloke is getting to like me quite a bit. He calls me a pit pony, but only for a joke. Ha, ha! Sometimes in the mornings he gets me in from the paddock and feeds me before Mum gets home. After he’s milked the goat and fed the sheep and cow. That really winds hers up. I think that’s why he does it, but I know he also does it ’cos he likes me, too. Maybe I should start calling him Dad.
Mum’s getting a companion for me, she says. I caused a bit of a commotion the other day. This lovely mare was going past the other morning with a lady atop. Well, I just wanted a someone to talk to, really. Mum had just gone to bed, I’d finished my hay and Dad had put me out in the paddock. I thought, that fence of their’s isn’t that high. So I jumped it. Easy.
Seems I scared the mare a bit and the lady fell off, landing hard on her bum. Mum came out with my bridle, and the two of them tried to catch me. Well, I played hard to get for at least half-an-hour. Eventually I let them catch me and take me back. I had to stay in the stable all day after that. Funny, though, I did Mum a good turn, really, as she and the lady have become friends, and they said we could all go out riding together.
Ah! Here’s the horsebox now. Ole Skinflint’s – who else? Who’s she got for me. She never asked which of them I got on with the best. Oh, God, it’s that ginger Shetland pony. He’s a nutcase. A bit on the small side, but I like him. He’s got a great sense of fun. Look at him bucking. She’ll have her hands full with him. Come on, old lad, over here. Yes, that’s it. Let’s give them a bit of a show, Ginger. Attaboy. They like it when we roll over on our backs and kick our legs in the air. They’re easy to please, humans.
Mum put me out in the back field with Ollie the other day. That was really funny, although I don’t think anyone else thought so at the time. I only wanted to get to know the little cow. But when I wandered over, all casual like, she started to walk away. So I trotted a bit, didn’t I. Then she started running. Well, she must be neurotic. Stands to reason, doesn’t it? Well, I decided I could run, too. I was having a great time chasing after her. Then, all of a sudden she jumped over the electric fence. I don’t think she was supposed to do that. I certainly wasn’t going to follow. Ollie – I don’t think that was her real name; I heard it was really Olive, as in beef olive. No, surely they couldn’t be that sick could they? Anyway, I digress. Ollie was in the little area where they’d planted a few trees, not that you could see much of the tiny little saplings. Then she found herself on the golf course. It looked like she wanted to come back, but she was looking at me quite funny, just staring at me, like. Quite unnerving, really.
Eventually Mum came out to see how I was getting on. At first she didn’t see Ollie on the golf course. Then, panic! Oh dear! You’ve never seen anything like it. She ran indoors to find Dad, and they both came out. Whatarewegoingtodo she kept saying. Ohmygod. He’s a calm one, though, he is. Don’t know what it would take to ruffle his feathers. Cool as a cucumber, he tells Mum to take me inside whilst he goes over to see the li’l ol’ heifer. He was always very fond of the little cow, I know. Anyway, what happened I don’t know ’cos I was in the stable by then. I had to bite my lips to stop myself laughing, I must say. Funny things, humans.
They’ve given Ginger the name Wee Jock. Sounds a bit size-ist to me. I know he’s vertically challenged, but there’s no need to rub it in. Don’t know what was wrong with Ginger, but then come to think about it maybe it was only me called him that.
We’ve been out riding quite a lot, Mum and me. At first we used to go down the road a mile or so and then up on a bridleway. But those big lorries made my legs go all to jelly, and Mum got a bruised buttock a couple of times. So now she says, sod it, she’ll ride on the footpath and walkers can just lump it. We’ve got a couple of stony stares, but no one’s ever said anything. I know Dad doesn’t like it. He takes the dogs for their walkies up there.
Mind you, I can’t say I like it up there much. In winter it can be very slippery and I’ve stumbled a few times. Mostly Mum stays in the saddle, only one time her arse hit the ground with a wallop. Got a bit muddy, she did.
~ ~ ~
Seems Mum and Dad are splitting up, now. She’s very upset. Funny, really, she’s been telling to me for ages she thought their relationship was on the rocks. Telling me all sorts of things I’d rather not have heard. Then when it happens she says she’s all surprised. I can’t understand humans.
Lots of morose faces about. Well, okay, two to be precise. You’d think Dad would be happy. After all, he suggested them splitting up. But, no, he’s just as miserable as she is. I don’t understand humans.
They’ve got a buyer for the farm now. Everything’s beginning to disappear. The tractor’s gone. All the implements. The tractor shed. Ole Skinflint has had most of the stuff. I bet he’s given them rock-bottom prices. But that’s their look-out.
The sheep have gone now. It’s getting rather eerie. Like a ghost-farm, if there is such a thing. What’s going to happen to me? Mum’s been saying she doesn’t know where she’s going to live. She’d better find somewhere soon. Will she take me with her?
~ ~ ~
Okay, so here I am back again in Ole Skinflint’s field. Maybe I was at the airport, after all, when my ship came in. Still, it was great while it lasted. And, as they say, it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
~ ~ ~
Black Jack’s Tale was a runner-up in a short story competition and was first published by author.co.uk