Stalking the Wild Horse

My horse lives in a large hilly field, dotted with clumps of trees, enclosed and bisected with a split-rail fence. One evening when I went out to feed him, I saw the white rump of an Appaloosa on the crown of a hill and on impulse, dropped down and skirted around to see how close I could get before the horses saw me. They couldn't survive their predators in this terrain, I mused. Most of the herd appeared close to the fence ahead. Apart from them one regal grey with a dished head, lithe limbs grazed. His graceful form bespeaking a certain elan, aplomb, panache... Aaah, Panache! .... but back to the grimmy business of staying alive in this cat-eat-horse world...

Stealithly I crept beside the fence and paused to select my meal. A thick tawny fur enveloped my body; huge eye-teeth lifted my lips to glisten whitely in the dusk; my curved claws flexed in anticipation as my slitted yellow eyes focused on the broad, slothfully negligent back of a stubby legged , bay mare. In three prodigious leaps, I would be on her ripping and tearing

..... What is that warm breath -- What tickling the nape of my neck!! BULL !! I thought, childhood images of being chased by a bull on a densely foggy night, out coonhunting, poured terror through me. I swung my elbow back to hit his nose and heard his heavy hooves pound back to begin a charge. Turning to face the horns of countless nightmares, I saw the elephantine figure of .... Charlie??? Charlie Clydesdale?? How did 1500 pounds of dull-witted draft horse creep up on me!! If he were a predator, I'd be roiling around in his tummy about now!