He Earned It

He is over 20 years old. He lost his eye when he was a less than a year old--not lost his sight in one eye--lost his entire eye--just a hole there. He doesn't care. I don't either.

He is scarred from years of fighting--usually won--not as often in recent years as he did when he was younger. He adjusts. So do I.

 I met him in 2007 during the HOA inspection tour of the wild herds of Corolla and Shackleford. It was late in his career as Emperor of Corova Beach. He had worked at the job for years--whipping young studs that sought to take his harem--looking for a bit of sea oats and scrub to eat--avoiding the flies and the tourists of summer. For the past few years he took to spending his winters across the line in Virginia away from the young studs. This summer he even still had a few mares with him.

 A young stud put an end to his years in the wild--bit the eyelid nearly off of his one eye. He had to be captured to be treated. So there he was--an ancient wild stallion, missing one eye, injured in the other, a nagging flesh wound to his hock. He retired to pasture number 1 here in my horse lot.

 Neither he nor I know everything, but we both now how it is. We both know the answers to the questions that people never ask. Neither of us are what we used to be, but both of us are enough. He writes better lyrics than I do. Here is what he thinks about the matter:

 One eye is a plenty when you ain't got any reason to go and run and hide.
 I can see with my heart.
 I can feel with my soul.
 I'll live forever cause I refuse to die.

 I been here five hundred years Though it seems like yesterday
 When they put me on a ship And brought me here from Spain
 Riding in a canvas sling, three feet above the deck
 Some of us trotted into port, some swam in from wrecks

 I hauled in your nets
 I drug out your boats
Plowed in your fields, even herded up your goats
 Now all this sand's still here, can't you leave some room for me
You can go and build that cottage down in Myrtle Beach

 Wading in the ocean
Sleeping in the sand
Eating tender marsh grass Drinking from the Sound
Got a lot of yesterday, ain't got much of now
 'Spect I'll have a tomorrow, but I just don't know how.

(This is Tradewind pictured above. The old one eyed stallion will be posing for pictures shortly.)