Well, now.
My grandparents had farms when I was little. Tucked back along the South shore of the province. Low-tech ones, apparently. No hay balers. No power until the forties even. Root cellars. Bee hives. Actual off-the-grid self-sufficient farms.
Imagine my delight tonight when I ran up to the fence to greet the horses and got zapped halfway across the road. Oh, yes. Imagine my dismay when the horse came right up before I could get the gate open and also got blown halfway back to the tree line. And then he came right back and got zapped again.
Tonight the electric fence went live and the horse and I became each others learning curves. I didn't know. I knew it was there but it wasn't live, goddammit.
I left in tears because I didn't want him coming back a third time. Ben warned me not to get attached to them (as if that were even possible) and then laughed when I failed to recognize (and respect) the barrier put into place to keep the horses safe, not hurt them.
I'm calmer now. My elbow still feels weird and my ego is shot to hell but the plan tomorrow is to show up with carrots as a peace offering. And maybe rubber boots.
(Also: my pride is still up there under the apple tree if someone could please collect it for me.)
