The LD That Wasn't, Part 1

So it turns out that there's something worse than being That Rider whose horse gets loose in the wee hours of the morning and runs around ridecamp making a nuisance of themself.

That something is being That Rider whose horse gets loose in the wee hours of the morning and slips quietly out of ridecamp without disturbing a soul and is gone.

Spoiler alert!  Tucker is fine and safely back home (despite my best efforts to give him away following his recapture).  This story has a happy ending.

Let me back up.

We were supposed to ride the LD 30 at Bare Bones on Sunday.  Rolled into ridecamp and eventually parked next to the first person I'd seen and asked for directions on arrival, who turned out to be the same person I held a horse for last October at the end of the GMHA 50.  Tiny funny distance-riding world!  I had originally planned to keep Tuck in one of the fairgrounds stalls overnight, but I wasn't thrilled with the latching mechanisms and didn't see a good way to back 'em up, plus getting the trailer and/or our stuff up to stabling seemed likely to be a drag, so I figured we'd settle into the field for a while and move him up to a stall if it didn't look like camping was viable.  But he was tying beautifully (as is normal for him) and it felt right to just stay put.

(Aha.  Ha ha.  Ha.)

Vetted in all As and a pulse of 40 while bugging his eyeballs out at the vet.

Ridecamp!  Adorable neighbor Morgan.

Fresian for Gail.

Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.  (He has even more snacks not visible behind the fender.)

 Amanda rolled in shortly before the ride meeting and we had a lovely peaceful evening hanging out at the trailer, eating dinner and chatting with our neighbors, and listening to a hockey game over the peepers in the nearby pond.  I kept commenting on how good all the horses were in ridecamp.  No fussing, no drama, just relaxation.  I went to bed in the truck and found myself waking up every hour or hour-and-a-half to peek out the window and check on Tucker.  He continued to be perfect: dozing or eating quietly, right where he was supposed to be, up through the 4am check when I considered just getting up, since I was awake and all, but instead tried to catch a little more shut-eye...

...and when I woke up again at 5:30, he was gone.

(I am getting anxious again just writing this.  Auuuuuuuuuugh!  But he is fine.  He is home safe and he is fine.  The jerk.)

At first I thought he'd just wandered around behind the trailer out of sight.  Then I thought Amanda had maybe woken up early and taken him for a walk.  Then we both thought that surely he was somewhere else in camp -- that he had indeed bothered someone in the night and they'd popped him into a stall.

Then we didn't know what to think.

The next few hours -- yes, hours -- are a blur.  Word started to spread and everyone was so, so nice and concerned and helpful; I really appreciated that a whole lot.  I found what I was pretty sure was his trail heading up the hill behind our trailer (thus explaining how he escaped without alerting anyone), along a stonedust driveway, and back down to join the road (little rural backroads, at least), but they'd run a CTR the day before and once he was on the road there was no way to know which prints were his.  The police were alerted; local horse owners were notified; other people joined us in driving the surrounding area.  We were all sure that he'd end up in somebody's field and we'd get a call as soon as they woke up and found him.

I had a pretty good meltdown at about 8am when I called home to let my boyfriend know and put him on standby in case I needed him to print lost-horse flyers and drive them up.  I started picturing him tangled up in the woods somewhere and lost forever all because I'd been too careless and stupid to secure him properly.

And then at 9am-ish, somebody drove into ridecamp to announce that they'd just seen a chestnut horse with a purple sheet and red halter on walking down the road a few miles away.  We jumped in the truck and drove like mad and got there just after some local folks, bless 'em, caught him.

He looked great.  A little warm, but not lathered.  Feet a little chipped, but not badly.  A little freaked out but honestly it was not clear to me whether he was freaked by being lost or freaked because he'd been caught by people he didn't know.  His lead rope was tattered and it was clear from the fibers in his feet that he'd stepped on it, but other than some lost fur -- not even broken skin -- on his face, he'd done himself so harm.  (And I am so, so glad that if I had to fail horse retention, I at least did it with a cotton rope that would go to pieces when tangled instead of destroying his legs.)

We called back to ridecamp to let them know that we had him.  I opted to handwalk him the couple of miles back rather than trying to load him in the middle of the road.  He is a pretty good loader, but we were both pretty stressed right then and honestly I figured I could use the walk to wind down and to reassure myself that he was okay.  (Obviously I'd have called for the trailer the second if he'd even thought about taking a funny step.)  So we started walking and I fed him carrots as we went, and Amanda idled along behind us in the truck.

The front-runners for the LD and the 50 passed us on the way back, and I was totally touched by the number of folks who slowed down to ask if Tuck was the loose horse and to say how glad they were that he was safe.

He got a drink and some grass when we reached ridecamp and the vets were kind enough to look him over during a quiet moment to make sure that I hadn't missed anything.  They agreed that all seemed to be in good order.  Pulse?  32.  Apparently he was going to live.

And then the ride manager asked if I wanted to head out on the loop...