It was not my idea.
I never would have thought to write about my sick horse’s feed being stolen from the bed of my truck, but at the editor’s suggestion, I wrote about my experience.
I thought maybe it could save someone else from losing a load of feed, but I worried that publicizing my misfortune might sound like whining. I wrote the column and forgot about it.
Then the phone calls and e-mails started.
Someone from a local feed store called, offering me cash. A woman from Georgia left a message, asking if she could send a check. As I write this, another offer of help just arrived via e-mail. When the town attorney spotted me at a meeting, she hugged me and told me how sorry she was about the theft.
I have only lived in this area for one year and I have to admit, I am floored by the community’s response to the plight of my sick horse and our stolen feed.
The messages and hugs and offers of help keep coming and I tamp down my pride and accept them all.
I have to, for Marlon.
And I may have found out why somebody bothered to abscond with a load of horse feed. I was talking to an anonymous local at an undisclosed location when he brought up the case of the stolen feed
“You know, they didn’t steal it for their horses,” he said. “They stole it for their still.”
As soon as he said it, I knew it was true. Sweet feed can cook up an expensive but easy-to-make mash (this knowledge is embedded in my DNA; my mom’s family made liquor in the Ouachita Mountains of Arkansas).
If you are already an outlaw, what’s stealing a load of feed? It would be nothing; nothing compared to running liquor, anyway.
The joke is that Marlon’s special feed is special only because it has low sugar and low starch. It would make awful moonshine, if it even cooked up at all.
Marlon has given me many things over the years, but the saga of his stolen feed has given me insight into the local community – the best and the worst of it – which might have otherwise taken me years to acquire.
I appreciate every condolence, every dollar, every sign that the good people outweigh the bad by a heavy margin.
And I do hope that run of moonshine winds up tasting like Marlon’s alfalfa.
Robbi Pounds is the staff writer for The Graham Star. She can be reached by phone, 479-3383 or by email, rpounds@grahamstar.com.