Spooked by fire­works, these two ponies went run­ning from the law.

Farm & Ranch Living - - CONTENTS - BY SARAH R. SIEG

Iwas quite ex­cited the day we brought home our minia­ture ponies, Quee­nie and Daisy. They seemed to be be­haved, al­low­ing my chil­dren to ride them around. My hus­band and our boys had con­structed a makeshift pen for them, us­ing a large corn­crib for one wall and a se­ries of green metal gates for the rest. We thought it was sturdy enough for the time be­ing. The fol­low­ing night was the eve of In­de­pen­dence Day. It seemed as though ev­ery neigh­bor around us bought fire­works that year. The next morn­ing my hus­band went out to milk, and I was rather sur­prised to hear him come back in­side a short time later. When he told me the ponies were gone, I flew out of bed. I woke up my old­est son to join the search. We knew the fire­works prob­a­bly spooked them, and now they could be hid­ing any­where. We looked down the long drive­way with a bad feel­ing—it led straight to a high­way. We found pony tracks lead­ing to the edge of the road, and my heart sank. It was still early morn­ing and traf­fic was light, for­tu­nately. My son and I climbed in the van and drove up and down the high­way, search­ing for any sign of our run­aways. We even­tu­ally looped back to our farm. Then I heard a noise across the road from our drive­way. A ve­hi­cle on the ATV trail there was revving its en­gine, and Quee­nie and Daisy were right in front of it! I be­gan to yell their names as I ran across the high­way, slip­ping down the dew-drenched ditch. It was only then that I got my first good look at the ve­hi­cle be­hind my two equines. Em­bla­zoned on the side were the let­ters: P-O-L-I-C-E. Oh my, how em­bar­rass­ing. At least I wasn’t still in my pa­ja­mas. The of­fi­cer dropped back while I chased their bounc­ing bot­toms, sear­ing pain in my lungs. Rid­ing ponies is much eas­ier than try­ing to keep up with them. Quee­nie and Daisy kept run­ning un­til they came right to the edge of the high­way. There, they stopped and mirac­u­lously waited for the crazy lady run­ning be­hind them, gasp­ing out their names. My son soon ar­rived to help lead them back. The po­lice of­fi­cer was wait­ing for us. It turned out he had found them about 2 miles away. Fig­ur­ing they be­longed to a farm in the area, he had fol­lowed them in a huge cir­cle— and back to our drive­way where my chase had be­gun. I sus­pect it was one of his more amus­ing calls that day. Pad of pa­per in hand, he good­na­turedly filled out a report on the ponies that ran from the law. Hope­fully that’s the last of Daisy and Quee­nie’s wild ad­ven­tures!

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