"It's the circle of liiiiiife..." Sing it Elton.

The cycles of life and death are very natural here. Natural isn't quite the word. Brutal? Too harsh. Blunt. Yes, that's it - the patterns of life and death are direct and without a sugar coating to soften the blow. Life and death are the two certainties we have here, and they are recognized as such. All of us succumb to death at one point or another, and until that time we're alive and we damn well ought make the best of it. We may not be sure if the motor for the irrigation lines is going to start today, and we don't know what time the hay will arrive (hopefully early), but those simple truths of life and death are ever present, lingering in the background of each moment. My second day here, like I mentioned in a previous entry, we experienced both the near-loss of one of our oldest horses and the birth of two mustang foals, a pairing of events that struck me as significant.

Furthermore, this place is like The Discovery Channel brought to your back door. As I can sometimes view the animal kingdom with a sort of Walt Disney/Lisa Frank fuzzy-wuzzyness, this has been a shock to the senses. To date I've witnessed one of our dogs, Buddy, cause the unfortunate end of, and then consume, three poor doomed creatures. One day while Barb, Mary and I were heading out, the dogs prancing around the car, a prairie dog made the poor choice to dart across the grounds. We saw Buddy bolt and we all shrieked and cried, "Get under the car!! Get under the car!!" Alas, if the prairie dog did in fact get under the car he did not stay there, for a moment later he was being devoured. Our squeals of concern quickly became groans of disgust and we coudn't drive away from Buddy and his meal fast enough. Yesterday, while we were moving hay, Buddy got himself two field mice. We tried to distract him and simultaneously guide the small things to the nearest sanctuary of piled bales, but our efforts were thwarted. Once again, groans of disgust and aversion of eyes. Mom told me last week that Moppy got two baby bunnies (sad, yet I was still proud of the old hound dog) and in reply I told her that the dogs here brought Barbara an antelope head the other morning.

The passing of horses is obviously another form of death that must be faced. I've not experienced this yet, though apparently the couple weeks before I arrived were difficult ones in which babies were lost - "Bucket" the premature baby burro that was taken and cared for in the house and seemed to be doing well until he suddenly died, "Crash" the baby foal who was fatally injured by a yearling, and the baby foal born stillborn from its mustang mother. These, and the more common losses of the aged horses are a part of life here. And how do you deal with it? When I was young we would bury each of our pets or send fish via toilet bowl to the big body of water in the sky, but how do you dispose of a cherished horse? The same way you do any other horse. Barb made a comment to me one time while in the truck that the rope at my feet had "pulled many dead horse in its time." She said it matter-of-factly, not delving into the desire for a more reverent, cereomonious way of doing it, but simply stating the reality of it as it was. When the sanctuary got a tractor a month ago everyone was thrilled because this now meant the horses could be picked up and carried to their final resting places - a far more respectful process. Bucket was actually buried and was carried in this way.

The rest of the horses go to what is called the "bone yard" which is exactly as it sounds. Far out in one of the fields past the two old barns is a sectioned off area that houses the remains of horses that have died on the ranch. Barb believes that as the horses are part of the natural pattern of life, their bodies should rejoin the cycle in that way, providing nourishment for the wildlife in the area and the rest of their remains being consumed by the earth. I visited the bone yard for the first time with Claudia and Adam this week and I was intrigued and quieted by the skeletons that were strewn about the yard. It was fascinating to be able to see the inner workings of the horses - the shape of the rib cage, the way the cartilage lines their joints, the large gap between sets of teeth in their mouth that allows the bridle to slip in nicely. It was certainly educational, but not without sentiment. Claudia found Crash's remains. I was captivated by her ability to recognize them as a former young foal they knew and cared for and at the same time appreciate them for their scientific quality. As I said before, the realities of life are recognized and faced head on. We cherish these animals and give them the best lives we can offer, but death too is natural and when it comes we are allowed a few mintes to grieve, but then jobs have to be done, herds have to be fed, and life keeps going, with past horses continuing on through their remains which nourish the earth, the bodies of other animals, and the scientific mind.