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Fri 22 Sep, 2006 09:02 pm
First, a recollection: On one of those perfect September mornings, much like this one, but this was long ago, I was riding my bike down a steep winding road somewhere North of Tahlequah and East of Highway 10. I was hoping I was on the right cut-through which would take me down to the Illinois River canoe rental places where I would find some lunch. There were rivers and pools of fallen leaves all over the roadway and I was zigging and zagging to avoid them and trying not to lose it on the turns. A stick or something jumped up and got caught in my front wheel and, though it didn't seem to be doing much harm, it was making a funny noise so at the first flat spot I pulled over to see what it was.
There was still a slight mist rising over the nearby fields, mown down hay from the looks of it, already cut and carried off to the winter barns. What it was was a piece of bark and it had jammed itself real well between one of the brake pads and the wheel rim. I started to yank on it and that's when I heard the horses. They were far off and down the hill from me, but in the clear air I could tell that there were four, or maybe five, animals making their way, clip clop, up the road. I got the bark out, picked up the front of the bike and spun the wheel to make sure it was on straight then waited to see what was coming.
There were two cowboys on horses leading two more horses. They were in no hurry. One of them was complaining to the other about something and the listening one was the one who saw me first from about one hundred feet away. I should have mentioned that I was wearing my full out-in-the-boonies bike gear, black and yellow striped helmet, brilliant yellow jersey and black with a big blue panel bike shorts. Knowing now that I looked like some kind of giant horsefly helps me understand what happened next.
As they got closer the listening cowboy made a sign to me to stay still. "No problem." I said softly and nodded my head 'Howdy" to the other one.
"This one's a little jumpy." he said, "and I don't think she's seen anything like you before." He took a little rein in, "Whoa. Whoa."
I stayed put as well as I could, but when the lead horse got to about twenty feet away she saw me. Her eyes got huge and her front legs flew out, straight as pipes and struck the pavement hard in a full jarring stop. The cowboy pulled back on the reins, but the mare shied backwards into the other horses before he settled her down. There was a lot of shushing and whoaing, but things were back to normal in a few seconds. Just a case of the jitters over something you don't expect to see.
So, this morning I run five miles in Central Park and take the subway down to Broadway and 23rd. It's just a short jog from there to my gym. I am just slogging along the big broad sidewalk on my way towards Park Avenue when I see the bag. It's a big bag, a duffel bag, and it's sitting right next to the entrance of the Number Six Lexington Line Subway Station. Many thoughts pass through one's head. Oh, somebody is hauling their stuff down into the subway and this is the last remaining bag. (No one comes out to claim it as I get nearer.) Oh, some poor homeless guy has walked off and left this huge bag.(No, it is as clean as can be, nice and new) Oh, maybe it's a bomb.
I really said that. My brain whirred momentarily, there was a sound like a piece of bark getting stuck in a wheel and I jammed both my feet into the pavement in a full stop and then staggered back a few feet.
I shook my head and looked at the bag. Was that a wire sticking out of those papers? I did a side-stepping move worthy of any step aerobics workout tape and then traipsed backward, keeping one eye on the bag and the other on the approaching curb. And there, holy cow, just when you need one, a cop on the corner.
"I got weirded out by that bag"
"Yeah. Something happened. We are looking into it."
"There's a wire."
"Yeah, my partner checked it out. It's clothes. Coat hangers."
"You guys do not get paid enough."
And so the trembling mare headed up the roadway having survived a bad fright over nothing and the trembling slogger crossed the street and took a nice long steam where he remembered the mist and the mare and that long ago September morn.
Good one, Joe. I was rapt reading it. Seriously.
Always absorbing reading, when posted by Joe.
Very well done, Joe - good story, well woven; I really liked the way you brought together the concepts of the spooked pony and the spooked jogger.
This story also made me think of the recent discovery of the our 3 million year old ancestor. Under our sophisticated urban exterior is a primitive being just trying to survive. Good tale Joe.
Thanks all.
Green Witch:
I've had an animal theme running through my writing lately. I don't know why. I think I know what the Elephant Man meant when he said "I am not a animal!" but, you know, he was only partly right.
Joe(we live in a zoo called Earth)Nation
Ah, finally I found my fix.
I've been checking your blog for the last few days, waiting for your next jewel.
Almost had to pull out my "JJ" file.
And this reminds me somewhat of the fellow whose carriage horse died this past week or maybe last week. Old white horse that carried folks to places around southern central park, I think..
story was in the NYT, maybe I saved it, quite touching.
I was rapt reading your story too, Joe.
Wasn't that a great story, osso! So sad. I should go find the link.
Another horse and man story... .
September 16, 2006
For Central Park Carriage Horse, Death Arrives Inelegantly By COREY KILGANNON
Juliet the carriage horse held forth for about two decades on the south end of Central Park taking tourists on slow romantic rides through the park. She was the cute white horse whose owner outfitted her head with the elegant white tassel that bobbed as she clip-clopped ahead of her carriage on loops from the Plaza Hotel to Tavern on the Green and other prominent spots.
But as elegant as Juliet was in life, she was undeniably inelegant in death on a rainy morning yesterday, lying flat on her back on the dungy concrete floor of a Hell's Kitchen stable, her legs stiff in the air.
''I can't believe this is my baby, Juliet,'' said her owner, Antonio Provenzano, 47, of Brooklyn as he lifted a blue tarp off the horse. ''For a million tourists, she was what they remember of Manhattan. Her picture is all over the world. And look at her now.''
She lay lifeless as the day shift of carriage drivers hitched up their horses and clopped out to work. Only Mr. Provenzano and a coterie of skinny cats seemed interested in her at the West Side Livery stable on West 38th Street near 11th Avenue. Never again would she come home to her third floor stall, with the window looking out on Midtown's skyscrapers and high rises, and enjoy her hay and salt lick.
But Mr. Provenzano had more than his grief to deal with yesterday. Enforcement officers from the A.S.P.C.A. arrived at the stable and took Juliet's body away for a necropsy and opened an investigation into her death based upon an incident Thursday night that attracted an angry crowd and the police.
Juliet collapsed in Central Park about 9:30 and Mr. Provenzano, who said he was acting on telephone orders from his veterinarian, began striking her repeatedly in the flank with his thin five-foot whip to get her to her feet again, prompting a crowd of onlookers to begin yelling at him.
''I'm trying to save my horse's life and all of a sudden, everyone's yelling, 'Stop beating that horse; you're going to kill it,' '' he said. ''Some big guy told me to stop or he would punch me. Then a cop showed up and said to stop or he'd arrest me. He was about to pull his gun out. All this while I have the vet on the phone telling me to keep hitting her to get her up.''
He said that Juliet probably had colic and he was told to get her to walk to rid herself of gas and waste.
''I've been around horses 30 years and I love my horse,'' he said. ''They think I want to hurt her?'' When the veterinarian and officers from the mounted unit showed up at the park Thursday night, Mr. Provenzano was told he could resume the whipping.
Juliet climbed to her feet several times but promptly collapsed again. An employee from the Ritz Carlton nearby brought over a rug for the horse, and with great effort Juliet was placed on it, dragged into a police trailer and taken to the stable on 38th Street. After several hours of treatment by Mr. Provenzano and his veterinarian, Juliet died about 5 a.m. Her owner curled up in his carriage and tried to sleep.
Juliet was well-known among the carriage horses that are a staple of southern Central Park and are kept in stables in the area of westernmost Midtown that still has the feel of the old Hell's Kitchen.
Part Percheron, part American draft, she was likely a former farm horse in her 20's bought at auction in Pennsylvania and had begun pulling a carriage at least 17 years ago, Mr. Provenzano said. He said she quickly adapted to her urban environment, ignoring horns and sirens and avoiding potholes.
''She was called Juliet because everybody fell in love with her, like 'Romeo and Juliet,' '' Mr. Provenzano said. ''Think about all the people this horse gave rides to.''
Mr. Provenzano said Juliet had had several owners over the years before he bought her last year for $1,700. He used her to work nights, pulling his green cab, six nights a week ever since.
''That horse was a member of my family,'' he said. ''I told my mother she died and my mom started crying.''
''I have no money to get another horse,'' he said. ''I have a wife and two sons to support. Two things I can do: make pizza and drive a horse.''
That's it. I couldn't link it because it was on the gotta pay now list, and I hadn't saved it.
(I loved your story though, you great big horsefly!)
I know I must have looked like I was having a stroke as I tottered around that huge thing, but that cop, he was as calm and unmoved as an anvil. That made me feel better.
Joe(I'm not the type to go around yelling Yipes)Nation
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