Moonshadow

Back in Arizona, where the temperatures didn't drop until well after sunset, Julain and I often rode with the moon. I would saddle him as the sun set and we would make our way out onto the well-worn trails left by the local ATV riders.

We had only one or two roads to cross, but if your headlights should catch us, we were a comical sight. To both Julian and myself I typically attached numerous blinking lights, such as the kind you would put on a bicycle, or your dog's collar for night walking. In this way, Julian had both headlights and brake lights. Of course, these simply made us look like an impromtu Electric Horseman and provided no real navigational light, but Julian was not in need of that. His eyes were my eyes, and he seemed to have no difficulty transversing the desert with no light but that of the moon. Even my eyesight would adjust gradually, until I could make out the shapes of the shrubs and abandoned sofas we wove our way through.

On these rides--as with most rides--I often sang to Julian. I don't think this was one of his favorite parts of the experience. Occasionally, he would pin his ears momentarily as my voice cracked or lost pitch. Unfortunately for him, I like to sing when I'm riding, and so, on those occasions when he seemed particularly sensitive to my tone-deafness, I would sing, but very quietly. My favorite song for these night rides was, of course, Moonshadow by Cat Stevens. Again unfortunately for Julian, I could never remember the words, so he was subjected to the chorus over and over.

He was a good horse.

Last night seemed a good night for moonlit riding in Wisconsin. The fields of corn surrounding the farm were finally mowed, and our riding range was expanded exponentially.

Though wishing to race for the farm after work, I drove at a speed respectful of the possibility of vaulting deer. Despite my best efforts, the sun had dropped below the horizon by the time I reached the barn. In great haste I caught up my steed and tacked him in lightning speed--truly the only speed in which it is possible to tack a steed of the herd-bound, dancing variety.

As I donned my hunter's vest of neon orange, Julian had fully realized I was intent on separating him from his herd--and under cover of darkness, no less! I told him about the large moon lighting our way. He was not impressed. I led him, dancing in step to his fast-moving hooves, out to the front yard, where a pathetic step-stool/mounting block mocked me from the edge of the drive.

Julian spooked. All four feet stamped in quick succession as he jumped to the right (thankfully, as I was on the left). I led him in a circle, attempting to calm him with a feeble human voice. The rest of the herd grazed on well behind the barn, out of sight, but certainly not out of mind of poor Julian, who soon spooked again. Large feet again stamped out his emotions on the driveway. He spun in a fast circle around me, pivoting on the point where my gloved hand grasped tightly his bridle rein. Getting loose would not be good, as I had propped open the farm gate with the hope of riding through it. The idea of his running through it without me, and without our Electric Horseman lights (at home in my basement), was not a good one. I was lit, but he was black, head to toe.

As we danced our dance, I realized I had lost again. Lost to his herd-boundness--something we didn't have to deal with when it was just the two of us on the Arizona farm. I looked out over the moonlit fields of razed corn and sighed. Dancing all the while, I led him back to the barn. His nerves only increased, while mine remained reserved, resigned, and disappointed.

It was all I could do to untack him in the barn without him tearing off half-dressed. I used my draft horse voice to try and keep him focused, but he was already gone. I dropped his bridle and saddle (carefully!) in the barn, still hanging firm to the lead on his halter. I tried one last time to make contact with him before releasing him back to his friends, and pulled the halter over his ears. He spun on his heels and ran for the herd.

Left on my own with the barn and the moon, I untangled my tack and put it all away. Lastly I retrieved the laughing step-stool from the drive, stashing it back behind the hose in the barn.

As I prepared to make the drive back home, I tried to look at the bright side of our aborted moonlight ride. No one had fun, but no one got hurt. With horses, that always counts for something.

So my Beetle, Galaxy, and I made our way home in the moonlight. And still I could not remember all the words to that song. Galaxy didn't seem to mind.

Oh, I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow
Leapin and hoppin' on a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow

And if I ever lose my hands, lose my plough, lose my land,
Oh if I ever lose my hands, oh if.... I won't have to work no more.
And if I ever lose my eyes, if my colours all run dry,
Yes if I ever lose my eyes, oh if.... I won't have to cry no more.

And if I ever lose my legs, I won't moan, and I won't beg,
Yes if I ever lose my legs, oh if.... I won't have to walk no more.
And if I ever lose my mouth, all my teeth, north and south,
Yes if I ever lose my mouth, oh if.... I won't have to talk...

Did it take long to find me? I asked the faithful light.
Did it take long to find me? And are you gonna stay the night?