At the end of our fifth day of walking, we experienced a dramatic contrast from the rest of our day, which to this point had been rich with laughter, rainbows and reuniting with a friend.
Mason, our friend, and I were crossing a bridge over a river. We three were slower, more contemplative walkers than most pilgrims, so there were no other people around. I heard a horse neighing and spotted him a short distance away in a field across the river. He was staring me down, and continuing to neigh. When I looked closer, it looked as if he only had 3 legs. Was that right? I wasn’t sure but it was clear he was trying to get our attention, so I called Mason and our friend over and we headed toward him.
It is difficult to even write about this encounter. This horse had lost his back left leg from the knee down. His wound was not fully healed yet and there were bees swarming it. His rib cage was protruding from a lack of food and he had a braided cloth bridle/rein around his neck with burrs all over it and burrs covered his mane as well. He was a horrific sight.
A wave of shock and sorrow washed over the three of us. We were at a loss at what to do. We were out in the middle of nowhere. We didn’t know if he was lost, or if had been abandoned by his owner. It appeared very unlikely that he was being cared for by anyone. For the first time in my life, I wished that I had a gun, so that I could put this dear creature out of his misery.
The horse shook his head in a very agitated manner. We thought that he wanted the burr-filled noose removed from his neck. But when I tried to get close enough to him to remove it, he was too spooked and skittish and moved away. Witnessing his attempt at walking made us immediately back away from him to a distance that he was comfortable. His hips dramatically curved without a leg to even them out and when he struggled to walk it looked as if his spine would twist and snap in two from the weight of his hip muscles and pelvis. We were witnessing the embodiment of pure suffering and despair, and our heartache in our helplessness was unbearable.
Our time with the horse was teary-eyed, solemn and prayer-filled. We broke off pieces of bread from our baguette and threw them to him, which he quickly gobbled up. Although the river was so close, there was no way he could maneuver down its banks, so we searched for a container to bring him water, but to no avail, so we soaked the bread pieces with water from our water bottles.
We all wanted the same thing; we wanted this horse’s suffering to end, but we didn’t have the capacity to stop it. So we did the only thing we had the ability to do in that moment and that was to show kindness and share love with him. Our hearts were still breaking though.
Later, when we arrived at our albergue, we asked other pilgrims if they had seen the 3-legged horse, and no one had. Why had the Camino “provided” us with this gruesome experience of pure suffering and agony?
...to be continued.
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