The Oats Are Always Sweeter…

Morning Star had no desire to jump the fence. Jumping was mundane; it was what you expected horses to do. No, when Star decided she wanted to take a stroll around the neighborhood, she crawled through the fence. First, she would put a front leg through, between the top and second wires, then duck her head through, then a back leg, then the other front leg, and finally, the other back leg, and off she would go.

Even in Montana, horses wandering the neighborhood are not quite as common as dogs. Still, it never seemed to take the neighbors by surprise.

Mr H, who lived about halfway up the hill that separated our “addition” from the others used to keep a bag of oats in his garage. He would hear Morning Star coming up the street (horse shoes make a distinctive sound), fill an old coffee bucket with oats and shake it. She would walk happily over to the bucket of oats and start munching away. Mr H would put a rope around her neck and tie her up outside of their house until my father came walking up the hill, with his own bucket of oats.