‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the barn, not a creature was stirring, because horses do not keep the same Gregorian calendar that us humans do, and therefore are primarily governed by their biological rhythms. And actually, I take that back, they were stirring, but in the quiet way that a content horse will do. Those in stalls hang their sleepy heads out their windows, or sink into the shadows, dozing. Those outside stand sleeping with a foot cocked, insulated from the cool breeze by a downy blanket.
The night sky is cloudless, speckled with stars and the slow blink trail of planes routing themselves home. But there, from the north, a distant glow, so faint it could be mistaken for a trick of the eyes. But no, it grows in intensity, a nine-pointed comet streaking erratically through the night, accompanied by, do you hear it? The faintest jingling of bells.
The horses outside notice first. Jacob peeks his head out of his shelter, though his curiosity is dampened somewhat by acclimation to oddities – coyotes howling, neighbor horses causing a fuss, helicopters whizzing past. A strange light is nothing of note.
It’s Dorothy who calls attention to it.
“Do you see what I see?”
Blanche, who’d trundled out from under her shelter for a drink of water, lazily raises her head from the trough to follow Dorothy’s gaze. They’re both newer at SAFE, and therefore still getting acquainted with the rhythms of the place, the nightly goings-on that are routine for their more veteran neighbors.
“Where?” She asks, her vision obscured by a low treeline that borders her paddock.
“That light. Coming straight towards us.” This time it’s Harissa that speaks, to which Dorothy blows a nervous snort in response.
Blanche can see it now, a wiggly line of light, drifting overhead, growing brighter, getting lower. Dorothy prances around her paddock, tail raised in alarm. Even stoic Jacob has emerged from his shelter, ears pricked forward. From across the property, Nova whinnies.
The light descends until it reaches the soft footing of the outdoor arena, and then, with a preternatural quietness, the source is revealed. Nine horses, with great branches extending from their foreheads, stand to form two parallel lines. Tack unlike anything ever seen at SAFE or, perhaps anywhere, adorns their backs, great leather straps that attach them to one another and the entire group of them to a massive ornamental cart. Their individual harnesses twinkle with light, and as they shake out the landing, a faint jingling of bells emanates from where they stand. The SAFE horses are awed, caught off guard to such a degree that they hardly remember to breathe, let alone snort or squeal or run. Their visitors, entirely unphased by the strangeness they have just wrought upon this silent night, break the ice with idle chatter.
“Now that’s what I call a soft landing!”
“Beats a roof, for sure.”
“Here, help me out of this harness, I want to have a roll.”
With practiced ease, the herd works to disengage themselves from the rigging, seemingly floating out of their confines. Several drop to make sand-angels, while the others survey their surroundings.
“Oh!” exclaims one, glancing towards the paddocks. “It appears we’re not alone.” The others turn to look. Nine horse-like creatures looking at four horses, twenty-six curious eyes blinking in unison.
“I thought they all lived in the barn,” one of the interlopers whispers to another.
It is, again, Dorothy who speaks up first, bridging the gap between the two groups.
“I’m happier outside,” though she still stands at alert, her brave voice manages to not betray her unease. “I’ve spent too much time in a stall. They make me anxious.”
The others, in their paddocks, draw closer, interested in joining in the conversation.
“And the two of us are buddies,” pipes up Blanche, her next door neighbor. “I wouldn’t want her to be out here alone.”
“It’s nice out here,” says Harissa, sidling up to the fence to be closer to the action. Jacob, the furthest from the group, brings a hoof down on his gate, a makeshift bell announcing his presence.
“Well, we hope we didn’t startle you,” one of the horse-likes says. “We’re normally pretty good at arriving unannounced.” This draws a few knowing titters from the group, some inside joke they all share.
“We weren’t startled at all,” calls Jacob. Though admittedly not rattled by much, being the furthest from the action, Jacob’s view of the proceedings was more nosebleed than orchestra.
A pair from the group break off and trot over towards him, their legs perfectly in sync.
“I’m Dasher,” says one,
“I’m Dancer,” says the other, which seems to trigger a roll call, the rest of the group standing at attention in their formation which clearly isn’t arbitrary at all.
“Prancer”
“Vixen”
“Comet”
“Cupid”
“Donner”
“Blitzen!”
In unison, they turn towards the yet-unnamed non-horse, who is off slightly to the side investigating what is obviously a very tasty flower. When he lifts his head, a shock of red light emanates from his muzzle. He trots over to join the others.
“Sorry! Rudolph!”
Jacob is the first to introduce himself, and the SAFE horses go in paddock line, capping things off with Dorothy.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” says Harissa, gearing up to be a little rude, “but what exactly are you?”
“We’re reindeer,” says Comet, or is that Donner? Since their choreographed introduction, the group has spread out again. They are indistinguishable from one another apart from the one with the red nose. Harissa understands how the bay SAFE horses must feel.
“Specifically, Santa’s reindeer,” chimes in another. Cupid, maybe. “We’re a little different than most.”
“Are you like horses?” Blanche asks.
“Sorta!” comes the reply.
“Horses who can fly?” Blanche continues her quizzing, attempting to puzzle it out.
The horses, for whom magic is an everyday occurrence (how else does hay appear in their boxes each morning, when it was most certainly not there the day before?) do not pose the same questions that us humans might.
“Well, it’s the harness that helps us fly,” explains Prancer, prancing. “You could do it too!”
“I‑I don’t know about that,” Dorothy gulps, thinking how nice and solid the ground feels beneath her feet.
“We help deliver presents on this one night,” another reindeer explains. “Push! Down the chimney!”
– A brief aside: if you are wondering where Santa plays into all of this, well, the horses are not. The equines have it handled; Mr. Claus can have the night off. –
“No offense,” says Harissa, never afraid to ask the hard questions. “But shouldn’t you be out doing that now? If it’s only the one night.” She has already cleaned up her nightcheck hay, and based on her internal clock, only has a little longer until the next food delivery.
“Well, yes,” the reindeer closest to her says. “But we’ve heard a lot about this place, and how wonderful it is for horses and other such creatures, and wanted to make a pit stop to see for ourselves.”
“It is pretty nice.” Harissa agrees.
“We haven’t even seen the barn yet!” One of the reindeer says to another, and they all chorus their agreement.
“Yes, let’s do that, and then we’ll get back on the sky.” The group turn towards the barn, calling their temporary goodbyes to the outside horses, but are stopped by Jacob, not quite ready to let these new friends leave.
“Wait! Can you take us with you? If you open our gates, we can show you the best way to get there.”
The road from the arena to the barn is a straight one, and though all parties are well aware of this, no one argues against his logic. And so, with the same dexterousness used to divest themselves from their harnesses, the reindeer work their way down the line of paddocks, freeing the horses within to join their group.
At the sight of not just the non-horses, but also the very much horse-horses loose in the outdoor arena, Nova, who has been watching with the curiosity of a nosy neighbor, cries out:
“Hey! Don’t forget about us!”
“Y‑yeah!” Autumn chimes in quietly, eyes darting to Nova. If she’s going somewhere, Autumn would like to go too.
In a similar fashion, Roy and Mirana are also freed from their paddocks. A great parade of horses marching towards the barn does not go unnoticed by these two observant geriatrics, and they more or less demand their release as well – politely, of course.
So it comes to pass that nine reindeer and eight SAFE horses file into the barn, much to the shock and awe of the stalled horses.
“I told you!” Bijou exclaims from her post at the tail end of the aisle. “I told you I heard something out there!”
“I knew it too.” Says Lacey, though her cool facade is indeed slightly ruffled by the strangeness of it all.
Several of the SAFE horses, those who haven’t been stunned into momentary silence, follow the same line of questioning that their outside counterparts did – who are you? What are you? How did you get here and what are you doing?
The reindeer field their questions with the same cheerful tact they showed the outside horses, seemingly not at all bothered about the repetition.
Then: from the grain room arose such a clatter – Rudolph, with his nose so bright, pulls his head out of a bag of purina senior, cheeks bulging.
“You get to eat this stuff all the time?”
“Some of us do,” grumbles Barb, casting a side-eye towards Domino, who is nodding with the enthusiastic understanding of a horse who gets daily mashes.
“What do reindeer eat?”
“Candy canes, mostly.” Says Blitzen from where she’s posted up in the hay stall. Bandit notes she is blatantly not using the weigh scale for portion control.
“Don’t forget the sugar plums,” adds Comet, in between mouthfuls of alfalfa. “But this stuff is making me think I really need more green in my diet.”
“Then you really ought to try this!” Calls Dancer, her muzzle coated with the moss-colored fuzz of a haystack mash.
The horses stand with their heads out their windows, chests pressed against the walls of their stalls, willing themselves to vaporize through the metal and wood to be able to join in on the feast. From down the aisle, Pepper’s stomach growls ferociously.
The horses quiz the reindeer on more of their similarities and differences, more on their unique lifestyles, and the reindeer field their questions while simultaneously relieving the hay carts and grain bags of their contents. The nine outsiders make quick work of the barn’s stores, and while their cheery attitudes remain, their eyes begin to take on a slightly glassy quality as they get down to the dregs. Those SAFE horses who have colicked before look on with a degree of empathetic discomfort, their own stomachs twisting in sympathy.
“Gosh I’m stuffed.”
“This stuff is a lot more filling than gumdrops.”
“I could really use a nap.”
“You’re welcome to use my stall!” Barb offers. “I can’t open it from in here, but maybe you could help me out…”
“Oh sure!” Says Rudolph, making quick work of the locking mechanism in the same way he did to the grain room. Once the others realize this trick, they are more than happy to offer up their stalls as well.
Having been freed from their stalls and paddocks, the horses mill about the barn, scrounging for any leftovers that the reindeer didn’t get to (this, it is quickly revealed, is not much). Some detour to the indoor arena for a quick roll, and Pepper, having observed Rudolph’s door-opening trick, makes her way to the backside of the barn, where she frees first her friends, and then the remaining residents, who argue they cannot be the only ones left inside! The barn is abuzz with horse and reindeer alike, though the latter are moving slow like molasses following their feast.
“We really should be getting back on the sky,” yawns Dancer. “But a nap does sound divine.”
“Almost too good to pass up!” Agrees Dasher, sinking to the ground in Poppy’s newly vacated stall.
“It’s so clean and cozy in here.”
Several of the other reindeer have discovered that truth for themselves — Donner and Blitzen are already dozing in the stalls Brandy and Bandit have left, and Dancer looks well on her way to dreamland as well.
“Didn’t you say something about delivering presents?” Asks Brandy, who has lost her stall to a now snoring Blitzen.
“Oh!” Comet says, stifling a yawn. “The presents. Right.”
“Maybe we can just skip it this year?” Muses Vixen.
“No way,” Prancer shakes her head. “If we don’t do it, who is going to?”
“What about them?” Suggests Dancer, nodding her head towards where the SAFE horses are milling about, snuggling herself more deeply into the shavings.
“Us?” Gulps Montana, who still can’t quite believe the whole flying thing.
“Sure,” says Comet thoughtfully. “You really just need to put on the harness, then once you’re up in the air it becomes second nature!”
“That sounds like tremendous fun!” Exclaims Roy before anyone else has a chance to speak. No one would argue that since the addition of a pair of glue-on shoes, his joie de vivre has increased tenfold. Even now, freed from the confines of his paddock and standing comfortably atop the concrete of the barn aisle, he steps in place excitedly, displaying the enthusiasm of a much younger horse. Mirana, acting as Roy’s lighter shadow, extends the long plane of her face over his back possessively, if not a bit anxiously at the prospect of his departure.
“Well if he’s going, I’m going too.”
The other pairs quickly decide themselves. Moshi and Poppy. Brandy and Bandit. Jacob and Edward.
Sunny and Shasta volunteer as well, though there is some debate about the harnesses fitting properly.
“Why don’t you ride along in the sleigh,” suggests Cupid. “You’ll fit perfectly, and can help drop presents down the chimneys.”
But even with the pairs decided, there is still one spot left unfilled.
“You’ll need someone to guide you,” says Rudolph, his nose flashing red in demonstration.
“But none of us can do that,” Pepper replies, curling her upper lip. The pink of her gums is a poor substitute for the reindeer’s built-in headlight.
“I have an idea!” pipes in Scotty. “When the people come in the afternoon, they wear these little lights on their foreheads. I see them put them on and take them off. I think we could wear them too.”
“But the horse with the light has to be at the front? Leading the way? Sounds intimidating.” This from Domino, who is much more comfortable bringing up the rear, especially if that rear follows Lacey’s. His observation is met with a few mutters of agreement. It is a big job to lead the pack.
“I’ll do it.”
It is Veronica who speaks, the deep timbre of her voice always a surprise given her delicate build. The horses regard her with mild surprise. It wasn’t many Christmases ago that she was too frightened to even come into the barn, the sound of her snorts a familiar one to all those who knew her. But recently, Veronica has turned a brave corner. Bustling clinics and flying birds and flapping bits of ceiling are no match for her lion’s heart, how difficult could leading the charge really be?
Scotty extends his long neck into the room where the lamps live, and through some serious finagling, manages to fit the head light between Veronica’s ears. She lowers her head, and Sunny, whose muzzle is just the right size for delicate procedures, clicks it on.
“Ta-dah!” Says Scotty, to murmurs of approval at Veronica’s glowing crown.
“Perfect!” Chirps Rudolph. “Let’s get you suited up – time’s a‑ticking!”
To the outdoor arena the SAFE horses go, led by the reindeer who aren’t presently asleep in their borrowed stalls. Even those horses not embarking on the journey file out to watch their comrades flight. Those who did not watch the initial landing retain a level of skepticism, but their disbelief wavers at the sight of the sleigh, a vehicle unlike any horse trailer they have ever seen. The group forms a semi-circle around the object, apart from Sunny and Shasta who are old hat when it comes to traveling, and know their jobs very well. This pair head immediately for the sleigh, managing to scramble up somehow unassisted, and subsequently exclaiming at what they find within.
“So many boxes!”
“And baggies!”
“And treats!”
A few loose sugarplums roll across the sleigh’s floor, and the two littles help themselves.
“C’mon you all,” urges Sunny, his mouth full of sugary goodness. “Let’s go!”
The reindeer help direct the chosen pairs into formation. Roy and Mirana get first booking behind Veronica, with the others falling into place. It is slightly more of a chore to put the harnesses on than it is to take them off, but the reindeer assist, and in no time the horses are suited up in their borrowed finery. The jingling bells and various straps take some getting used to, but having been touched with flags and roped and saddled (in most, but not all cases), the horses acclimate quickly to these unique accouterments.
“You look superb!” says Rudolph, nose glowing in admiration.
“What now?” asks Brandy, willing her nerves to settle. Bandit, at her side, does wonders for her constitution.
“Now,” Comet says, “Think ‘fly.’”
Jacob and Edward are the first to lift, the space between the ground and their hooves increasing in small increments until there is no question, even in the darkness, that they are hovering above the ground.
“Dude!” they both say in unison. “You’re floating!”
Their success is contagious, and whatever blockades exist in the other’s minds are toppled by the reality of seeing two of their own fully elevated. Moshi and Poppy, the smallest of the group, all but shoot skywards, whinnying in delight. Roy lifts faster than Mirana, who needs a bit of encouragement from her brave companion before popping off the ground herself. Brandy and Bandit are perfectly in sync, and Veronica, the only single horse, snorts only once before gracefully rising into the air. Sunny and Shasta, who have been busy in the sleigh taking inventory of the gifts (not to mention any sugar plums that have rolled out of stockings), peek their heads up with a surprised gasp to realize that they are now several feet off the ground.
“Looks great!” Calls Rudolph from down below. The rest of the grounded SAFE horses look on in shock. Even the geese, who had been snoozing nearby, give a few honks of wonder.
“Have fun!” this from Comet, who is already making her way back towards the barn, dreaming of one of those bedded stalls.
The sleigh, and those creatures who are charged with pulling it, is governed by pure intuition. There is no question about where they are headed once airborne, the horses quickly able to sync their altitude with one another, legs pedaling in unison. It is Veronica, with her glowing forehead, who leads the way, inherently knowing exactly where to go as though pulled along by some invisible string.
The first arrival is, admittedly, a bit clunky. Descending happens in much the same way as ascending, but without a gameplan, the team falls in segments, jerking the sleigh (and the minis within) downwards in a herky-jerky manner.
“Let’s work on that.” Suggests Veronica, headlamp partially askew.
Sunny and Shasta, automated by the same hidden magic as the sleigh’s built-in compass, pull presents from the stash with confident certainty. Then, from where they are held in their little mouths, drop them down the portal of the chimney, where they invariably find their mark.
“Next!” They chirp, once the gifts are distributed and they have reentered the sleigh, and the team rises into the night again to repeat the process.
And so the night passes this way, the landings and take-offs increasing in elegance and finesse with each subsequent dwelling visited. There is more than one run-in with a flock of ornery geese, but Veronica steers them bravely by. Apart from those avian eyes, they remain unseen by the world, quietly clip-clopping through the sky, delivering present after present to home after home until the operation of the sleigh is something that could be done in their sleep.
As the morning dawn begins to creep towards the horizon, the sun yawning awake, eleven SAFE horses touch down softly in the outdoor arena. They shake the frost from their coats as they peel off the harnesses, helped in part by the reindeer who are waiting to greet them, looking well-fed and well-rested. Sunny and Shasta leap down from the sleigh, now divested of all its many gifts. Though they are tired, they chatter excitedly about their experience – how good it felt on the joints to be weightless in the air, all the different terrain they covered, all the happy horses they saw as they flew overhead, tucked into stalls or sleeping in their fields. The reindeer nod knowingly, and chat amongst themselves about their night spent at SAFE – the warmth of the bedding, the delicious food.
“You didn’t even get to experience the best part!” Says Moshi. “The people who take care of us: who clean our homes and give us food.”
“And help make us brave,” chimes in Veronica, whose headlamp is quickly becoming obsolete as the sunlight blooms.
“And give us pets,” says Roy.
“And treats!” Sunny and Shasta say in unison, thinking of the carrots stuck into their hay nets each week.
“…and who will be very worried when we are not in our stalls.” Observes Brandy, who is looking forward to her breakfast mash.
“Flying a sleigh is hard work!” Says Jacob, whose stomach is also beginning to grumble. The others agree.
The reindeer extend their apologies. They must be getting back, for they too will be missed if they are gone much longer. They step back into their harnesses, and gear up for their flight back home.
“It’s been lovely to meet you all,” says Comet.
“Same time next year?” Jokes Dancer with a wink.
“Thanks for the hospitality!” Exclaims Dasher, to which the others chorus their agreements.
And just like that, the reindeer begin to lift off the sand, bringing to a close one of the strangest nights of the SAFE horses’ lives.
“Merry Christmas to all!” The reindeer call out, banking north as they rise. “And to all, a SAFE night!”
The horses watch as they grow smaller and smaller, blending in with the stars before winking out of view.
–
There is, of course, some question the next morning as to why all the stall doors and paddock gates are unlocked, why the hay carts have not been refilled, why the previous day left the grain room in such disarray. But the humans who arrive mere minutes after every horse has returned themselves to their rightful place simply thank their lucky stars that the horses did not take the opportunity to let themselves out – a true Christmas miracle that all horses are safely where they belong, nickering quietly in anticipation of their morning meals.
From off in the distance, a bell jingles.
