Handsome, intelligent, and sensitive, Mack lived all alone in his bachelor's pad, enjoying overhead eco-friendly lights, a soft bed, plenty of food and a huge back door that opened out onto some of the most beautiful land in all of Jackson County, perhaps anywhere.
Mack didn't have to work. All he had to do day after day was enjoy the scenery, eat and walk about the grounds. He should have been happy, but there was a problem. He was lonesome. At the end of his first year in his plush quarters, the problem was about to be solved.
During one cold December night, a mother nearby was giving birth to twins. The male twin was strong, but his twin sister was small and frail. The mother rejected her.
When the baby was a day or two old, she was taken to Mack's quarters. Twice a day for 10 to 12 weeks, she was bottle-fed from a half-gallon bottle filled with a powdered milk formula. She was gradually weaned from the bottle when she began eating dry feed and hay. Mack looked over at the young female, and in the dim candle-like glow of those eco-friendly lights, he must have thought she was one of the most fragile and defenseless creatures he had ever seen.
It was clear he would no longer be lonesome.
Since that day more than two years ago, the two have been inseparable.
A 14-year-old Tennessee Walker with a coat as shiny and black as onyx, Mack is a regal looking horse. His live-in partner is a white-faced horned Hereford, Pansy.
Annie Greene Parsons and her husband, Steve, live in the gorgeous historic house, which is surrounded by beautiful farmland that has been in the Greene family for more than 120 years. White-faced horned Hereford cattle are still raised on the farm. Jason Casto, the farm manager, owns Mack. Jason was the one who first brought the newborn calf into the barn that had been Mack's bachelor's pad. They were all uncertain if and how the two would get along. Soon, though, the unlikely pair bonded. Mack bathed the little calf by licking her all over and was careful where to step as the calf would walk under and around him while he was eating. The calf sensed she was safe around Mack.
Velvie Casto, Jason's wife, named the little calf Pansy, who now weighs almost 900 pounds. Jason said the second year of her life, she really shot up, and she'll probably weigh around 1,500 pounds in time because she is big-boned. Pansy, having no role model except Mack, must think she's a horse, too. She kicks up her hind legs just the way Mack does, and otherwise imitates his gait at play as best she can.
Annie said the white-faced horned Hereford was first introduced into this area by her grandfather, P. C. Greene, in 1890. This breed has been in Jackson County ever since.
In due time, it was time to introduce Pansy to a bull for breeding purposes, one of her own kind for heaven's sake. Jason realized that moving Pansy into the herd and separating her from Mack would not work. So he brought one of the bulls from the main herd to the barn to get acquainted with Pansy. Mr. Bull stayed in a section of the barn separated from Mack and Pansy for the first night, but fireworks were about to go off come morning. The gate was opened and the three of them went out the door into the fresh dawn air. Mack suddenly turned on the bull, bit him on the rump, kicked him hard and chased that bull off the grazing area and right through the fence. That was that.
Just as Mack can show his jealous side, or perhaps his protective side, he can also display incredible gentleness. Mack enjoys small children. Like Pansy, they seem to know they're safe around him. I saw several pictures in which Mack was nuzzling tiny tots as they fed him apples.
One night, Mack's front feet somehow became entangled in a fence upon one of the hills, and he was unable to free himself. Pansy could have returned to the warmth of the barn, but she wouldn't leave Mack. She remained with him throughout the night until they were discovered the next morning, and Mack was freed. That's devotion.
If you turn off Route 21 in Kenna and pass the Kenna post office heading toward Interstate 77, look to your right. You might see Mack and Pansy grazing on the sloping green hills. If you see one, you will see the other. If they get out of sight of each other, Pansy moos and mourns, and Mack whinnies and whines until they're together again. Now that's the kind of love that could make our world a far better place.
Dolly Withrow is a retired English professor and the author of four books. She is a columnist for The Charleston Daily Mail and The State Journal.
Mack and Pansy
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