One winter evening I was at the gate, ready to bring the horses in for the night. Instead of coming to me, they trotted way up into the field and looked at something in the woods. So I looked, mirroring what they were doing but not seeing much. Then my eye caught some movement low along the ground. It was a large gray owl. We all watched until it drew up and landed in a tree. I could have been annoyed by their antics while I was standing at the gate—it was cold and time to bring them in—instead I chose to do what they were doing and slipstreamed into their world for a moment.
Another day, this time in summer, I went out to weed the garden in a ball cap instead of my usual straw hat. My mare came over and was very obviously looking at the cap. I don’t really know why— maybe I reminded her of someone else or maybe she was noticing a different detail in her environment (a detail that happened to be on my head). She looked at the cap with concentration for a few seconds and then, as if catching herself being rude, looked off to one side. So, of course, I looked to that side, too. I wanted her to know I saw the gesture. Then she dropped her head, licked and chewed. I did too. It was a sweet, still moment in my day.