By Lucia Yepes-Puerto and Emma Papangelopolou (Y10)
Last week, a man claiming to be a horse whisperer attempted to communicate with the horses at his local stables, only to be promptly trampled by a very unamused Freiberger.
Cletus Earl has always had a special connection with animals. “I was abandoned in a wild forest at the age of three,” he explains, “and I think that sparked a deep understanding within me, a spiritual connection to the animalia of our world. But horses were always different. It wasn’t just mutual understanding… it was something more.”
“The Horse Whisperer” is the title Earl has proudly worn since he was 14 years old. “Discrimination is a struggle I understand first-hand,” he stated in an interview. “I never had any friends or people to support me. Being The Horse Whisperer isn’t easy, but it’s who I am, and no-one can take that away from me.”
About a year ago, Earl settled down in a small cottage not far from the local stables. He stated that the sight of the fields and the smell of manure put him at ease, as though he was finally where he was meant to be.
Earl pestered Mr. Jeffrey, the owner of the stables, for months for a chance to speak to the horses, and after the latter’s request to file a restraining order was rejected, he reluctantly agreed and gave Earl the opportunity to meet the steeds face-to-face.
The infamous incident occurred last weekend, in the early hours of the afternoon.
Cletus Earl marched into the stables, wearing a tweed hat and looking happier than ever, according to the stable owner. Later, Earl even admitted to wearing his “lucky boots”.
His eyes landed on a tall steed at the far end of the stables, standing proud and strong, its luscious main set aflame by the afternoon sun. Earl reported the feeling of “something stirring in his heart”, an “emotional connection he had never felt before”. This horse and him were connected, destined to have a bond stronger than the closest of friends, like “brothas from anotha motha”.
Without a second thought, Earl threw open the stall door and gazed upon the magnificent stallion– a male Freiberger, now that he had a closer look. He vividly described holding out a hand in a sign of peace, an offer of friendship, “certain that words were not needed for their connection to form”. The horse blinked once, and Earl felt “his heart swell with excitement, his spirits lifting, his soul shining”… before the mighty steed let out a powerful neigh and bolted out of the stall, trampling Earl in the process. He could only let out a pathetic whimper as he listened to the fading sound of the horse’s hoofbeats while it galloped away.
Earl suffered a few minor injuries, but none compare to the gaping wound now left in his soul. As of writing this article, he has locked himself in his cottage and refuses to see anyone, rambling on about how “the horses have rejected him”, that he must “repent for his sins” as well as, “an ancient mesopotamian sacrifice is in order”.
As for the horse, he’s doing splendidly, grazing on fresh grass and trotting through open fields. Mr. Jeffrey reported that he’s “never been so proud of a horse in his life”, and also appears to be doing very well.