Temperatures rarely go below the high 30’s during the night in what passes for winter here in California’s low desert and most times it’s mid 40’s.  It’s a far cry from the near-zero temps and snowy days up in Montana where friends at Horse Prairie Ranch, and everyone else up there for that matter, turn their horses out to fend for themselves once winter sets in.  The animals are hardy, and they’re none the worse for it.

But somehow, when you get out of bed in the morning and go outside with the dog and realize it really is cold, your thoughts turn to the guys out in the pasture so you give up after a few nights like that and begin blanketing them.  It’s more for us than for them but after you do that you don’t feel quite as guilty turning the heat on in the bathroom when you shave.

Horses in pasture are always a little dusty.  Sometimes they are downright dirty.  You brush their coats before saddling them and between brushing and combing manes and tails you don’t often have time to take a close a look at their coats.

It’s a different story when you take the blankets off in the mornings.  Their coats are usually clean.  When I took Macarena’s blanket off the other morning I marveled, as I often do, at the coppery color of her chestnut hair, exactly like a newly-minted penny that gleams in the sun.  Except this time I noticed that her wonderful red-gold color was flecked with some grey hairs.  A lot of them.

I know she’s getting on, coming 19, but to know it on an abstract level and to see it in the concrete are two different things.  I can accept the grey hairs on my head and accept the grey hairs on Sammy’s muzzle but it brought me up short on her.  I’ve had her for about 13 years.  She was, as Rudyard Kipling once wrote about a pony called the Maltese Cat, the pluperfect polo pony.  She elevated my game orders of magnitude better, like a 15 handicap golfer suddenly playing to a five.  She saved my life at least three times, or at least saved me from serious harm.  She and I are telepathic together.

She knows what it means.  She speaks a different language but she knows now that I know, too.  And that’s always been enough between us.

Gotta go…

The first part of this was written by David Lominska, arguably the most famous polo photographer in the US.  He is to polo what Ernie Pyle was to the troops in WWII.

Sam Morton wrote the second part.  He is a highly-regarded horseman, cowboy, and a much admired writer.

These words were forwarded to me and I share them with you.  In all the words that were said and will yet be said you must remember how much we love our horses.

RMF

Here goes:

It is the worst thing I have seen in 40 years with horses… Afterwards looked like a medieval battlefield with carcasses strewn about.

I wrote this to Teresa Gentile last night:

It’s been a couple days from Hell, Sunday was the worst thing I have ever seen in 40 years working with horses.

The Lechuza horses arrive at the field and as soon as they came off the trailers it was apparent something was wrong, they were staggering and stumbling and some started to drop.

Everyone immediately dropped everything and went to help, every Vet in the County was there, they had 6-8 people on every horse trying to keep them walking, holding them up. One by one they would drop and they would cover the horse with bags of ice (They sent a whole truckload from the ice plant) as their temps were spiking at 103-104.

I worked with security keeping the photographers away, none of the polo photographers were a problem but there were some Press photographers and just “looky-loos” with cell phones etc. I had to get in 2 guys faces and ended up having them dealt with by security. The horses were on the far side of the east lake so they were able to keep them isolated and park trailers in the way and put up screens around the downed horses. They quickly assembled a team and horses and threw together a short exhibition match to keep the fans in the stadium busy while they tried to deal with the crisis.

After about 2 hours virtually every horse that was affected was down and dead, there were one or 2 that they got to the clinic, but they succumbed during the night. There were several that died back at the barn as well, only three at the field that survived and I heard that they were the umpire horses. Last reputable total I heard was 21 horses in toto. Every horse died of pulmonary edema. There is going to be a huge investigation, blood has been taken for toxicology and every horse is going to be posted

Of course there has been wild speculation, unlicensed Argentine vets, dope cocktails, a hit on Victor Vargas… I spoke with Roberto Gonzalez, he is the team coach, and he said at the barn they were as baffled as everyone else. We all know how superstitious polo people are and they claim that they didn’t do anything different than they do before every match. They suspect a Selenium/potassium treatment they give to prevent tying-up, I remember giving something like that when I was grooming. What I can see happening is a mislabeled or misread bottle that had a higher, toxic dose being injected IM, usually when you give something toxic IV, the horse drops before you can get the needle out… we’ve all seen Combiotic that hits a vein accidentally.

The toxicology report should be back tomorrow sometime, and the PM’s by the end of the week, it is going to be a major deal to post all those horses and they will all have to be done.

It has been a media circus around here, even I have been turning down requests to speak on camera.

Frederic published an article from Sam Morton that I will copy below.

I have been trying to channel my feelings into poetry, haiku specifically, I have had these recurring images and for me haiku is very distilled and visual:

Crossing the river: 3 Haiku

Tentative steps
to the water’s edge, the mare
shows the herd the way.

One by one, the herd
in search of greener pastures
crosses the river.

On the other side,
their journey ended, they find
water, shade and rest.

This morning we had a tremendous thunderstorm after a winter of drought and many tragedies, one woman killed, another in a coma and then this.

No longer able
to hold our tears, even the
heavens are weeping

David

Our Black Sunday

By Sam Morton

“Nothing really prepares you for what happened Sunday; the horror of over twenty horses dropping at our biggest polo tournament of the year. Young athletes cut down in their prime. It is our Black Sunday or 9/11 in polo. There are lots of rumors running around which doesn’t really change the end result. Lots of horsemen who happened to be there scrambled over to help but there was nothing they could do. One witness told me it looked like there were twenty people around each horse trying to do something, anything.

“People who work behind the scenes in polo learn to work fast. We pride ourselves on it. Horses are tacked up, stripped, and washed in minutes. At the U.S. Open Sunday, and at any Florida function all winter, there are people from all over the world in the polo community. For over an hour, South Africans, Argentines, French, Americans, Canadians, Mexicans, Brazilians, Costa Ricans, Cubans, and several other countries, worked shoulder to shoulder with the best horse vets in the world to save lives. They were scrambling as one, at a moment’s notice. I can tell you no one could have worked faster in any sport, equestrian or human, and for that I am extremely proud to be part of it. The polo team, Isla Carroll mounted a substitute team in little over an hour. I’m not sure people realize what went into that.

“Grooms, sponsors, vets, players, photographers and spectators are all bonded by a passion for horses. It’s who we are as a community. The last time we were brought together was the herpes virus scare a few years back. I sat in a room and looked at pros, blacksmiths, grooms, vets, owners and fans of polo that pulled together for the love of our horses and I think it was probably the first time I truly thought about being part of a community. I was proud then and I am proud now.

“In Plains Indian society, less than two hundred years ago, it was believed that when a man dies, his horse would accompany him in the next life. That’s how much horses were deeply involved in their life, and in a way they are that much a part of our lives in polo. I can tell you every polo player, groom, owner, trainer and fan of the game fells the pain right now. We are deeply hurt and saddened as a people over the loss of our horses. To Lechuza we send our condolences.

“God bless the souls of our horses that run with the angels now.

“Gotta go.”

“My horse fights with me and fasts with me because if he is to carry me into battle, he must know my heart and I must know his or we shall never become brothers. I have been told that the white man who is almost a god, and yet a great fool, does not believe the horse has a soul. This cannot be true. I have many times seen my horse’s soul in his eyes.

-Plenty Coups Chief of the Crow”

Sam Morton

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