In Yorkshire we once stayed far out on the moors in an ancient house. There was absolutely no one and nothing nearby. The house was surrounded by vast moorland, and in the distance you could see the Cumbrian Mountains. It was pretty tough out there, and there was snow, even though it was in May. In the evening we sat at the dining table with an open window to hear the bird’s evensong, but otherwise there was absolutely silent.

One day after dinner I went for a walk on the moors. The dusk was falling, and the area was covered in a very evocative, light gray tint. I knew that I should stick to the narrow, unpaved roads, partly because I wasn’t familiar with the area, and partly because there were many abandoned and more or less collapsed mine shafts, I could fall into. So the evening stroll consisted of a long walk out and an equally long walk back.

I had occasionally seen horses out there. Beautiful black horses with long flowing manes, and they moved so gracefully, almost floating, that they were a pleasure to watch. The horses were not fenced and could move around as they wanted, but they were very cautious and stayed at a safe distance.

At one point I stood and enjoyed the sight of the sun going down behind the mountains. It was, as usual, completely quiet, but suddenly I heard a faint snort right behind me. My heart skipped a beat or two, and very, very slowly I turned around. I hadn’t even heard that a herd of horses had showed up. There were 5-6 adult horses, and with the herd were a few foals.

We stood for a long time and just looked at each other. Then one foal slowly approached me and came so close, that it could sniff my neck with his velvet muzzle. Meanwhile I stood completely motionless, hoping inwardly that the adults were not troubled.

When the curious foal had finished his investigation and found that I was probably not a horse, but on the other hand nothing dangerous, it went back to the herd. And the horses just vanished as silently as they had appeared…

Photo: © Petejeff