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Post by rain on Jul 10, 2009 22:08:30 GMT -5
 At some point in the night the tattered roan was deposited in a pen closest to the gates. Apparently, this was one animal that was more of a burden than a pleasure. It was obvious in multiple ways, from the matted mane and tail, the coat-hanger hips, and the rain rotted coat to name a few. The pen was empty, no hay, no water. He paced. And paced. He paused at the gate he was shoved through and proceeded to weave to and fro from hoof to hoof, feebly tossing his head, impatient to get out of the hellbox he wound up in. He was in need of good food, good water, and a good farrier. His wolf teeth well grown and cutting into his cheeks were in dire need of being pulled. He was, in this condition, a real piece of work. Despite all that, there was no obvious signs of founder, no bowed ligaments, no permanent damage done. There was potential at least. There was no literature left on him, the stud was abandoned and clearly unwanted. It was clear he had not had the best years, but at one point he had been quite vibrant. At another point in time, he had been healthy, and loved; at one brief moment, he loved in return. But that was then, and this was now. It was down to the next person to decide his fate. Be it a savvy horseman ready for a challenging project, or the next kill-buyer who might find a free moneymaker. Time would only tell. |
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Post by harley on Jul 12, 2009 14:16:43 GMT -5
Ben James walked through the auction's back holding pens, looking through the old, the lame, and the skinny, before resting his eyes on what looked like a roan. He was weaving, a habit that could destroy his front hooves. The young vet only had one horse at the moment, and one Miniature Horse colt that thought he was a dog (and yes, he was potty-trained), with tons of open stalls, paddocks and pastures about his property, he had decided to go to the auctions just to look, but everyone knows that a horse auction is the worst place for a horse-lover to go on a budget, because they'd come home with more horses they had time and room for.
The man knew what horse he would buy as soon as he layed eyes on that could-be-roan horse, who was as thin as a twig, over-grown hooves, poorly kept mane, tail and coat, and looked like he had some energy. He looked like he could be a Quarter Horse appendix, and his price would be low considering his condition, making him an easy buy for a kill-buyer. He walked up to the horse, holding his hand out in a friendly manner, showing him he was no threat. He tried to flag down a worker that might know the horse's information, but most looked like they didn't speak one lick of english.
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Post by rain on Jul 12, 2009 14:59:21 GMT -5
The stud's attention shifted from all that was around him once he realized there was someone at his fence. Dusty ears twitched back and forth, stricken with indecision as to whether he should investigate. His weaving stopped and he eyed the tall man with a mild disdain. No good ever came from men, his life was testament to that. But, he still had a strong bout of curiosity which was the last shred of hope in turning him around, and that drove him to move at least in the human's general direction to size him up. He made a partial attempt at meeting the outstretched hand, but stopped midway having satisfied his need to get a good whiff of him. He stood a foot or two from the rail, regarding him passively with mild interest.
One of the few auction staff that did speak English made note of the man with the latest dumpee and redirected his steps to offer any help. "Can't tell you anything about him. Dumped last night. Was off to fetch him some water until bidding starts. Doubt he'll get any interest though, the surly bag a' bones." Spotting a nearby bucket, he stepped only a few feet away to retrieve it and posted himself at the spigot adjacent to the pens. "Shame, really. Caught a glimpse at his teeth earlier, can't be more than 8 years old.
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Post by harley on Jul 12, 2009 16:09:48 GMT -5
Ben kissed, trying to get the horse to come closer to him, even if it was an inch. This wouldn't be no 'Flicka' story, this was real life, and this was a real horse. He was obviously abused at some point in his life, and the lack of water in his pen was devistating. When Ben saw the worker coming near, he smiled, until the first sentence came out of his mouth."Really? That must be horrble for interested buyers. It shouldn't be too hard to get some weight on 'em." Ben nodded, looking over the horse, who was said to be under eight years old."Is there any way I may be able to get in touch with his old owner? Ya' know, just to learn a bit of his history." The horse, which he just now realized was a stud, had pretty good conformation from what he could see, and his feet just needed a good trimming. He might make a good horse for someone...
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Post by rain on Jul 12, 2009 17:13:08 GMT -5
With a disappointed sigh, the worker shook his head as he stepped away from the spigot once the bucket was full. Taking a few strides over to hang the bucket inside the stud's pen, clasping it to the railing. "Unfortunately, no. We get that a lot here, sadly. Don't even know if he's vaccinated, no coggins on hand. Ya get what ya see, here." Apparently this wasn't the first scenario like the one before them. It was a sad story, but reality nonetheless. Pausing, the worker leaned against the rail to eye the bony animal for a moment. "Unless you can find a brand or a tattoo on him somewhere, I'm afraid his story starts over from scratch here." Good luck getting your hands on him, though.
The stud regarded them quietly, ears flickering between the two of them. He knew they were talking about him, but honestly, he didn't have the energy to care. Hunger riddled him and at the sound of the water sloshing in the bucket being hung, he perked up only for that. He sidled over to the railing and drank deep from the water provided. Oh, what sweet relief. In essence, he was close enough to the railing to be touched, but whether he tolerated it would be an entirely different story.
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Post by harley on Jul 12, 2009 17:42:33 GMT -5
OOC:\\Does he have a brand or tattoo? lol.\\
Ben nodded, listening to the man. He looked over the horse again, looking for obvious brands. He'd take some blood from the ol' boy and check it for coggins, and then give him the standard vaccines. He nodded again, taking out his wallet from a back pocket."OK...I can't stand to see him get up on the stand. I'll give you one-thousand for me to take him away right now." He fingered through the paper money, grabbing ten one-hundred dollar bills he had gotten before his arrival from his checking account. His budget was five grand, but he was hoping to see a nice, trained horse here, but only skinny horses with no records, besides a pitch-black horse down the way abit, with a man yelling to bidders about him. Sure, he was pretty, but what was the price? Besides, Mr. Benjamin James was set with the stud infront of him, this 'bag o' bones' as the worker had described him.
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Post by rain on Jul 12, 2009 17:57:48 GMT -5
[ OOC: lol Hmm, um, sure! Why not? Rocking M on his left haunch near the tail.)
The worker's eyes popped at the offer. Ordinarily, dumps like this stud walked away for a hundred dollars, maybe two. A thousand, well that was definitely new. Not hesitating to make a sale, regardless. The worker snatched the bills offered and didn't bother to count as he shoved it into his pocket. For safe keeping, of course. Nodding back to the stud, he made a sweep of his hand and gave a broad smile. "He's all yours, boss." He stepped back and out of sight, but kept an eye on the new owner in the event he might need a hand getting the animal into their trailer. He had a sneaking suspicion the stud wouldn't be all that cooperative.
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Post by harley on Jul 12, 2009 18:38:33 GMT -5
Ben nodded."Thanks a bunch." He said with a wide grin. He ran back to his trailer, grabbing a black rope halter and cotton lead, as well as a long, black, cotton lunge line just in case he needed to use a 'butt-rope' with the stud. He walked back to where the stud was and got the halter, as well as a fist-full of grass to tempt the stud to come to him. He held the grass out, hiding the rope halter and lead behind his back where the stud wouldn't see it.
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Post by rain on Jul 12, 2009 18:57:21 GMT -5
A keen gaze was kept on the taller of the two men, curious though apprehensive as to why he was hanging about. He almost felt relieved to see him retreat until his anxiety returned with his approach. He was tired and malnourished, but still quite vibrant and easily frustrated. He'd seen that pose before, hand behind the back. There was always something ready to jump out and get him when someone came at him like that. Whether it was a halter, a vaccination, a dewormer, whatever. It was never pleasant, most times. Eyeing the grass offering, his stomach turned at the sight of food and his hesitation was overcome by hunger. He took a step towards the rail, but that was all. He wasn't a fan of getting too close to fences, it afforded too many opportunities for yahoo's to hop off the top and onto him.
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Post by harley on Jul 12, 2009 20:27:01 GMT -5
Ben frowned, coaxing the stud with a gentle voice, dropping the halter behind him and putting his hand at his side."Come on big boy, nothin's gonna hurt ya'." He knew that the stud couldn't understand any languages but the universal language for equines, but it made Ben feel better when he spoke to the animals, and if the stud didn't like it, well, he'd just have to get used to it.
Ben took one small, gliding step towards the stud, grass still held out infront of him, in a rough but gentle palm.
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Post by rain on Jul 12, 2009 20:56:54 GMT -5
The emaciated equine regarded him quietly. The tone of his voice was soft and soothing, something he wasn't accustomed to coming from a man. This intrigued him, so with a cautious single step forward, he stretched his neck out as far as he could and took the offering tentatively. He sucked his head back close to his body as he chewed the prize, eyes and ears still focused on this person. He hadn't leapt at him, or tossed a rope at his head, maybe he had misjudged this new human. His head told him to stay cautious, but his heart pushed him to be open to new opportunities. He didn't like being a 'dynamo' as they all had called him in the past. He didn't like being stuck in a constant state of anxiety and apprehension, but after so long, it had unfortunately became second nature.
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Post by harley on Jul 12, 2009 22:08:31 GMT -5
Ben smiled, going to get a handful of grain from a nearby grain bucket. It looked like Equine Senior, a nice weight-builder for horses like the one infront of him. Looking over him more carefully, he noticed a brand: a Rocking M near his tail that may be able to help him track down his breeders. He entered the pen again, this time with the sweet grain in his hand."Comeon, a little closer, buds."
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Post by rain on Jul 12, 2009 22:19:46 GMT -5
The scent of molasses hit his nostrils and immediately the man had his full attention. Food. Real. Honest. To goodness. Food. It had been several days since he had anything other than dying Johnson grass which had zero nutritional value and really wasn't tasty at all. Now, there was someone who had not yet posed a threat standing before him with the real deal. He took a couple more steps forward and this time thrust his muzzle into the open hand, devouring the offering to the point of licking his palm clean and then dropping his head to vacuum any pieces that were knocked loose in his hurried, hungry frenzy.
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Post by harley on Jul 13, 2009 14:14:24 GMT -5
Ben looked at the stallion as he ate, taking a closer look at his brand, but no lights went on. It obviously wasn't local, he'd would've reconized it if it were. He reached out a finger to stroke the stud's neck, and then wiping his slobbery hand off on the pant leg of his jeans. The horse would need a good weight building, but it wouldn't take more than a year, maybe six months if the horse was out in pasture 24/7. "Atta boy. Eat up. I have some food for you in the trailer too."
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Post by rain on Jul 13, 2009 17:16:51 GMT -5
Satisfied that everything of significance was sucked from the dirt underfoot, Dan lifted his head and with alert ears began to eagerly search him for more of what he just made disappear. Surely, there was more where that came from. If not, it was a horrible tease. After sufficiently nosing the man thoroughly, he huffed in disappointment before wrinkling his nostrils and turning away from him. He had lost interest now and being on less of a guard than earlier, was no longer concerned with a human who didn't have some kind of bribe for him. He had decided quite a bit back that unless there was something in it for him, he wouldn't see the need to be sociable. His malnourishment the reason for his lacking energetic mood was quite deceiving. Truth be told, when healthy he had a good deal of zest and it would be interesting watching his persona redefine itself as he put more weight on and began to feel normal once again. As one might imagine from his already surly disposition, he would most likely not be the easiest animal to work with. Oh, no...Dynamo Dan would make you work for it. Besides, anything good is worth working hard for, right?
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