Most people in a similar situation would get excited and shove the gate closed as quickly as they could, so as not to give the colt a chance to run out before it latched. Tug didn’t. His fingers touched the large wooden gate first and he knew it would swing easily—all his gates did. But instead of pushing the hefty gate quickly, he slowly walked it closed as if the pen’s occupant was an old broke ranch horse. He heard the colt snort a warning and jump around a bit near the back of the pen, but he didn’t bolt or panic. The metal latch slid into place with a metallic “clack,” and that was that. Tug’s task for the night having been accomplished, he quietly retreated back the way he came.

The movement at the gate took the colt by complete surprise. He had sensed something wasn’t right since even before he entered the alley…but then, nothing at all about the day had been right. He had been on alert and worried since first seeing the men on horses in the pasture with the water tank and windmill, and by the time he got to the pen next to the old horse he was exhausted. No longer knowing what he should be concerned about and what he shouldn’t, he let his guard down and decided to take his lead from the old gelding in the pen next to him. The old horse had shown no concern whatsoever while they both ate in the darkness, no warning that there might be a problem or impending danger. The only thing the colt heard before the gate closed was the rhythmic munching of the gelding next to him as he chewed his hay.

The movement at the gate worried him, but because it was so slow and deliberate, and because the old gelding next to him didn’t react at all, his own reaction had been minimal. He snorted out of instinct and moved quickly away from the sound and movement, but he felt no need to run or defend himself. Then, as quickly as the movement by the gate came, it also went. After a few seconds, the colt warily approached the area where the opening used to be and sniffed. There was a lingering odor of a human, one he had detected earlier in the day, and he felt the wood of the gate with his nose. He gently pushed on it, but it didn’t budge. He pushed again with the same result, and then scraped his teeth across the dried wood. He was locked in, and now he knew it. Oddly, his worry began to dissipate. His instinct had told him to keep moving and not to get caught in a small space. The more open the area, the better his chances of escape, should he need to. All day long the space he was in kept dwindling and he became more and more worried.

But now, finally, it seemed his space had stabilized. When the gate was still open he was on constant alert in case he should need to retreat to it, as it was his only way back from where he’d come. But now that it had been closed, it was one less thing for him to worry about. Things were quiet and peaceful in the pen with the old gelding eating nearby, and he slowly started to find being enclosed actually made him feel better, at least for the time being. He wandered to the pile of hay at the back of the pen, took a mouthful and chewed lazily. Suddenly he was very tired. His chewing slowed until it stopped, and with hay still in his mouth he lowered his head and began to doze. He felt better in that moment than he had in months and the colt let out a long, relaxed breath. The old gelding nextdoor slowly raised his head and nickered softly. The gray colt’s day had come to end.