' OLD BUTCH '

‘Have you seen Butch ?’ I ask John almost as soon as I get back indoors after being out more than an hour or so. He nods his head glumly and says he reckons Bruce is no more.. I keep hoping, but we haven't seen him at all this year, and after several warm days have passed without a sign of that dear old horse in the paddock, I have to admit that perhaps he really has kicked the final bucket.

Butch has been part of our life ever since we came to live here five years ago. When we first saw him chewing happily away at hummocks of grass not far from my studio window, we did a bit of a double take. Not only was his back really deeply curved, but he only had one eye. We realised he must have had a somewhat chequered past, but was obviously now receiving loving care, for in really bad weather we didn’t see him at all, and then on chilly dull days he would always be wearing a nice waterproof overcoat.

One day when working in the front garden we looked up to see Butch walking past, being sedately led along the road by a young woman. She explained that Butch was 27 years old !! – and that he had been ill-treated in the past, and ‘rescued’, and was now their much-loved pet, never ridden, but taken for a quiet walk from time to time which he seemed to much enjoy.

For the past two summers Butch has been joined in his paddock by half a dozen young calves. When they first arrived we wondered how he would cope with his new youthful companions, but they seemed to settle down very happily together. In fact he often seemed to be just enjoying their company, and keeping a fatherly eye on their antics.

Butch wasn’t averse to a few antics of his own. He had a particular post, along the fence beside the rhyne, on which he loved to have a good scratch. He would stand parallel with the fence and move backwards and forwards looking just like a child’s rocking horse. It obviously gave him a lot of pleasure as we once timed this exercise to find that he kept up the gentle rhythmic movements for a full quarter of an hour. We were worried that he might have made himself sore, and sure enough when he turned round to saunter back down the paddock, we could see a small area where his coat had been damaged, but that never seemed to stop him returning for another satisfying rub when the mood took him.

Butch might have been very old, but he still seemed to feel the call of spring in the air, and would be surprisingly spritely, and far more interested in everything about him. I once saw him suddenly look up from the pasture, cock his ears, then turn round at speed and dash off almost at a canter. I guessed he had seen Mistress at the entrance of his paddock, way out of our sight.

So now it looks as if we shalln’t see him again. He has been such a comforting presence, often standing outside my window for long periods of time, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his back. I don’t know how well he could see with his one remaining eye, but his obvious delight in his peaceful old age in spite of his handicap has provided a thoughtful example to the two of us here on the other side of the hedge.

He is sadly missed.