It is not often that we can put ourselves in the place of another living form, to consider its perspective fully.
It was a beautiful September morning, blue sky so dramatically brilliant, the sunshine just rising high enough to cast a golden hue across the fields.
I had just finished up some chores and poured myself a cup of coffee, and a rocking chair on the back porch was calling my name. As I reached for a sweater, I looked out at the ponies in the distance, enjoying the west pasture. I stopped. I did a double-take.
What at first just looked like a bright green collar on our young filly, suddenly the realization hit me that something that shiny could not be a collar. Something wasn’t right.
I ran as fast as these old legs would take me, around the garage and machinery shed, pulling the gate to the pasture open. The little filly named Shadow would have been right beside me on a typical day upon hearing the clanging of the gate opening. There was something wrong.
By the time I reached Shadow, she was flailing her head. The bright green I had spotted from the house was now fully in her mouth, her eyes showing panic.
I calmly reached for her halter and quickly got hold of this bright green thing protruding from her mouth. It required a good yank, but I pulled it free. It was a deflated helium balloon.
My knees went weak, adrenaline rush letting up, as Shadow repeatedly rubbed her head against me. The realization of what might have been the ending to this story was settling in.
This is just one tiny experience of how our general carelessness can and does impact all living things. Curiosity kills the cat, as the saying goes. Curiosity of some shiny new thing appearing on the landscape appeals to all living things. Animals, from domesticated to wildlife, lack the ability to know better, and lack the ability to save themselves once that curiosity has turned dangerous.
I inspected the Mylar balloon to be sure that no part had been left behind in the curious pony. It appeared to be whole.
After heading back to the house to grab the sweater I had dropped in haste, I then walked the large pasture to be sure no other shiny objects had landed there. Shadow, the dark filly born in late May, followed my every step.
It was a good morning to be paying attention. It was a story with a perfect ending, and it was a story worth sharing.
