The House Horse

This post really should belong on Nature's Heart, my photoblog. It would be there, too, if the subject in question would cooperate with me.

Since I moved to Yosemite Lakes Park and began commuting to ECCO "the back way," via Road 415, I've been watching something that brightens my day. I can't help but laugh.

The first time I saw the House Horse, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Traffic on Road 415 travels pretty fast, especially at my commute hours, so I had no opportunity for more than a quick glance.

"Was that a horse at the front door?" I asked myself.

After that first glimpse, I kept my eyes peeled every time I rounded the curve. Sure enough, often the horse would be right at the door.

"Let me in!" it seemed to plead.

At other times, it would be completely out of sight. (Inside the house, perhaps?)

The house in question is actually a small concrete-block structure accompanied by a couple of outbuildings on a tiny plot of land, all enclosed within a chain link fence. I've never seen a residence which was so freely shared with its hooved companions. Rather than having the horse and his doggy pal enclosed in a separate enclave, they have free run of the property within that confined space. It's all quite civilized and friendly, it seems.

Friend Kaye Duncan of Portland, OR, makes a habit out of photographing the ordinary and making it look extraordinary. She produces gorgeous photos of carrots and lettuce, exercise balls, dog frisbees at the Dollar Store and more. Over the months that I've been watching her Flickr pages, I've really tried to hone my photographic skills and attempted refine my ability to pick out those little moments she captures so well. The House Horse fits that category for me, so I've taken to carrying my camera daily, watching for opportunities to catch him in his favorite spot.

So far I've had no luck. When the coast is clear for me to pull over to take a shot, the horse is not to be seen. A couple of times he's been in position, but another car was right on my tail, and I couldn't stop. During inclement weather I've noticed there's more of a chance the horse will seek shelter on the porch, so I try to be especially watchful under those conditions.


That involves keeping an eagle eye out for his whereabouts as I negotiate the curve preceding his house, watching traffic behind me so I don't get rear-ended. If the subject is in position, I have to whip off the road into the miniscule pulloff just beyond the house--and hope the horse's human friends don't see me. I'm afraid they'll think I'm a really sloppy private eye spying on them.


Finally, after a month or two of this active surveillance, the stars aligned, traffic was light and the horse cooperated. Or so I thought. I tried to be as quiet as possible as I tiptoed from the car to the fence, camera in hand. (There's no possibility of a telephoto shot because of the chain link.) All was going well, except that I didn't bargain on how socialized that darn horse is. The dog barked, but the horse ambled toward me--obviously expecting an apple or a sugar cube or a carrot.

Curses. Foiled again. I jumped in the car and sped off, determined to try again another day.

I refuse to give up. The next time I see the horse's humans out and about, I'm going stop and talk to them. I'll  let them in on my plan. Hopefully they'll understand why I'm sneaking around their fence, camera in hand, trying to catch the House Horse unawares. After all, a horse is just a horse unless I can catch him on the porch . . . proving that he's the House Horse.

Hopefully I can update this post in the near future.