Swordwhale Walking: Illustration, stories, photojourneys, videos

I met Bazraf working on a small farm near Pinchot Park. He was a challenge, a fiery spirit who reared and spun and headed back to the barn at warp eleven. I rode him the summer I worked at the farm, then lost track of him. A year or so later I was riding Saraf on a country road and stopped to talk to two kids about their horses. Bazraf was the grey horse in their pasture, and he was for sale. I brought him home, and he got a deep wire cut on his left hick. He survived that with nary a limp and went on to teach young riders, be the Shire of Dawnfield's unicorn, (and protest being one in the York Halloween Parade), and remember some of his former training as a pony hunter. He remained the wild, fey "Shi Horse" (the Shi are the faerie folk of Irish myth). He collided with modern technology on a backcountry road, leaving this world far too young. Dawnfield, in his honor, made it possible for me to adopt a mustang: the wild black mare, Olori Eldalie (Elven Magic).

In 1973, I spent the space between high school and art school working at a local farm. I left with a $200 Steuben saddle, and a $10 pony with the unlikely name of Knock'em Silly. He was of uncertain (something Shetlandish) vintage, about 10 hands tall, and going blind. He carried a number of kids on their first rides, pulled a cart (he disliked turning right), and served as Blenny's bewitched warhorse at a Markland event. (A fifteen hand Belgian cross clone, owned by another Marklander, did the first part of the show, then Blenny rode in on Knock'em, complaining that his horse had been bewitched and shrunk). Knock'em placed in a local horse show's costume class: wearing swim gear, a ton of "seaweed" from my friend's pond, and ridden by a very tall, long-legged friend (her feet dragged). The rest of the day horses would stop to eat the "seaweed" we dropped in the ring.