So, You Think You Love Horses? Some Reflections on the Nature of Horses and Man

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Fate dictates that all men will meet with justice. So far, two men in our stories have failed to know her full embrace. The first of these men is Reginald Bogy. Reginald went to church every Sunday and donated to the occasional worthy cause, but he was a hypocrite and the only cause he had any interest in was himself. The other man was Fu Wei. Fu had no moral compass. Loyalty was his honor and competence his religion. So far, he had been denied success, but he was yet to know true justice. However, justice is not to be denied and although neither man knew it, she was waiting for them both and just over the horizon. The lengthy trial of Li Long was over, and the mule Atlas was no longer required by the court to remain in California. The Boccamotore family, Atlas' owners, arranged for him to be transported across the county by a professional horse transport service. His drivers were to be two twin sisters, Rena and Zena McCaffrey. They made a coast-to-coast run carrying horses once a week.

The McCaffrey's Horse Transporter

Once it was clear that the trial of Li Lang was about to end, the Chinese billionaire Zhang Gang had his operative Fu Wei on the phone. He told him that so far his plans had been far too complex and involved too many others. This time he was to have hands-on involvement. Atlas was being sent east, and an opportunity to grab him surely would present itself. Fu Wei promised that he would work out a foolproof plan. He correctly deduced that the Boccamotores would use the same transport service that brought Atlas to California and investigated their schedules and operating methods. His challenge was to fix the transporter in a location that would allow him to grab Atlas, and that might be more difficult than it appeared. The tractor trailer drove interstates, and the drivers often drove in shifts without fixed stops. He considered various courses of action, and soon he had a plan. He called a certain auto dealer and sometime horse breeder in De Queen, Arkansas and booked the next flight to Little Rock.

Massie Bogy worked tirelessly to get laws against cow tipping.

Atlas stood in the back of the huge horse transporter as it barreled down U.S. 40. He munched his hay and thought how nice it would be to be back in his pasture in Maryland. He really missed the rich green grass. Rena and Zena McCaffrey were both awake sitting in the cab when the call came. They were to drop down to Dallas and pick up U.S. 30. A Percheron breeding farm near De Queen, Arkansas was shipping a mare to Pennsylvania. This kind of thing was usual for them, and they had no idea that their little side trip was actually part of a dark conspiracy that had originated halfway around the world.

Massie Bogy was back in town. He did not come to De Queen all that often, but he still owned land there. He rented his acreage out to a dairy farmer named Keith Compost. Massie lived in Washington, D.C., where he was the Executive Director of the American Association for the Prevention of Cow Tipping. Massie had Keith post the land with “No Cow Tipping” signs. Keith had never had a cow tipped and thought it unnecessary, but Massie was insistent. Massie’s land was next to that of his brother, Reginald Bogy, an auto dealer in De Queen, and Massie figured he would pay Reginald a visit while in town.

Massie’s brother, Reginald Bogy, was not happy. He did not want any more involvement with these people. He sat across the booth from Fu Wei in a small, out of the way restaurant. Fu had made it crystal clear: if he did not cooperate, his role in the prior abduction of the horse Atlas would be exposed. Reginald Bogy knew that Atlas was a mule, but he was reluctant to correct the large Chinese man. Bogy was no small man himself, but there was something about Fu that was very intimidating. In hushed tones, Fu explained details of the operation to Reginald. Unfortunately, what should have been “hushed tones” were really not. Bogy’s voice naturally carried, and with Fu’s accented English, they both unconsciously spoke up in order to be understood. Neither of them realized that someone in the next booth had overheard their entire conversation. Once the two of them left, the waitress approached the man who had been slumped down in the adjoining booth. “Will there be anything else, Clyde?” Clyde Coulter handed her a large bill and said, “No dear, I have had a really great meal. It was much better than I expected even.” He was smiling when he left the restaurant. Clyde Coulter and Reginald Bogy were cousins, but they were also sworn enemies. There has been bad blood between Clyde and Reginald ever since Reginald accused Clyde of smashing his mailbox, and the two got into that fist fight at the family reunion. Clyde was an accomplished practical joker, and soon he too had formulated a plan.

Keith Compost thought cow tipping would not happen to him..

Young Marie Boccamotore could hardly concentrate on her school work. After all these months of separation, her beloved pony Atlas was on his way home, and in a matter of a few days now she would have him back. Marie was a boarding student at the exclusive girls school Greenspring Hallows Academy in Baltimore County, Maryland. They had let her use one of the school’s ponies, but it was not the same. She went to bed full of anticipation, but if she had known what was really happening she should have been filled with dread. Atlas was headed home but not really home to her. The McCaffreys were headed for the farm near De Queen where Atlas was born, and if Fu Wei had his way, from that place he would then disappear forever. Of course, Atlas would reappear but with a new identity and in far away China. He would be just another animal living out his life in the stables of Fu’s boss, Zhang Gang.

Clyde Coulter called his neighbor, Keith Compost. The two of them often went coon hunting together with Keith’s pack of coonhounds. Clyde said to Keith, “There is talk in town that some kids are planning to come out and tip your cows tonight.” Keith worked long hours and did not get out much, but Clyde always seemed to know what was going on in town. Massie Bogy was always warning him what would happen if his cows were ever tipped, and he could not believe that this was about to happen to him. “Thanks for the warning, Clyde” said Keith and hung up the phone. He would need to do something, and fast. He called Massie Bogy, the owner of the land and the nation’s leading expert on cow tipping. Surely, Massie would know what to do. It was a stroke of luck that he was in town.

Massie often said cows were his constituency.

That evening a large tractor trailer horse transport was sitting in Reginald Bogy’s driveway. The Percheron mare had been loaded, and the McCaffreys were about to leave. Atlas was very glad to have a little company. The smell of this place seemed very familiar, and memories of his past came flooding back to him. The mare reminded him of his mother, and he felt peaceful and contented. Bogy stood next to the cab and directed the ladies, “Just follow the driveway around that building, and you will be headed out.” However, when they made the turn, the next thing they knew the cab was slipping off the driveway and the trailer jack-knifed. The wheels dug into a particularly muddy area just beside the driveway, and soon they were totally stuck. When they got out, Bogy was standing there. “Looks like you are stuck”, he said stating the obvious. Zena noticed that the driveway seemed to be impregnated with some kind of slick oil. “You have a tractor that might pull us out?” asked Rena. “Sorry, it’s not running.” Reginald lied. “My hydraulic lines ruptured and the fluid leaked everywhere. We are waiting on a part that they will run down in the morning. You are welcome to spend the night in our guest house, and put the horse out in that pasture for the night.” They were ahead of schedule, and the idea of sleeping in a real bed was inviting and besides, what choice did they have? Phase one was now complete, and things were going according to Fu’s plan.

Reginald thought he looked like a big raccoon.

Massie Bogy could not contain his excitement. For years he had warned the public about the dangers of cow tipping, and now he had the opportunity to catch cow tippers red-handed and on his own land. He could not believe his luck. He snapped into action and organized an elaborate sting operation. Keith and he built blinds in the field that looked like round bales and secured the cooperation of the Sevier County Sheriff’s Department. They arranged to have a reporter and photographer from the local paper. As an extra measure, they strategically positioned Keith’s pack of coonhounds in the lower corner of the field. They were near enough to be of use, but not so close that they might make a sound that would alert the cow tippers. They took the flood lamps off the roof of Keith’s pick up and placed them where they would illuminate the field. Massie thought that people so often scoffed at him. Now he would have the proof that cow tippers were not just some urban legend. They were real, and they would be here tonight, wait and see.

The deputies thought it a wild goose chase.

Late that night when the people at the Bogy farm were asleep, Reginald Bogy and Fu Wei prepared themselves for the next phase of the operation. Fu was a former member of the People's Liberation Army Special Operations Forces and had camouflage outfits for both of them. In addition, they covered their faces with black grease paint. Reginald looked in the truck’s mirror. He could not help thinking that he looked like a darn raccoon. They did not dare walk up the front drive and past the house as his wife now had this yappy little Jack Russell terrier. Instead they parked in an access lane off the state highway and would cross the field of Massie Bogy’s land and enter the pasture where Atlas was grazing from the far side. They would create the appearance that the fence had come down, and that Atlas had strayed. This kind of thing happened every day on farms all over the country, and no one could prove that the animal had been stolen. Reginald had to admit Fu Wei’s plan was both ingenious and fool-proof.

The two sheriff’s deputies and the men from the paper were certain this was a wild goose chase, but the Bogys were an important family in the county, and they were advised to give Massie their full cooperation. Massie surveyed the field with his night vision goggles, and soon he detected some movement off to the left. He felt his heart pounding as two stooped figures became clear in his sight. When they were close enough, he hit the lights and spoke into his two way radio, “Release the hounds.”

Reginald Bogy and Fu Wei made their way carefully across the pasture. You had to be cautious where you walked in a cow pasture at night. It was overcast, but their eyes had become accustomed to the dark. Suddenly, they were blinded by a bright light, and a voice called out, “Freeze right there.” In the distance they heard a sound that made their blood run cold. It was the shrill sound of a pack of baying hounds, and the sound was coming ever closer. Instinct had them running towards a large tree in the field that was visible above the floodlights. Reginald did not know if he still could climb a tree, but in no time both he and Wei Fu were seated on a limb, and a pack of excited coonhounds were circling the tree. They were safe from the hounds, but at the same time they were up a tree and trapped. The figures of a group of men emerged from the darkness, and one of them had a camera and began taking flash photographs.

Compost's Treeing Walker Coonhounds
Those were sure big raccoons they treed.

Massie was puzzled. These were clearly not kids but sizable adult men. Keith Compost and a couple of his hunting buddies arrived totally out of breath. The sheriff’s deputies had pulled their weapons. Just then one of the men in the tree called out, “Call off the hounds. We are unarmed and we surrender.” Massie knew that voice, “Is that you, Reginald?” Reginald replied in a weary and resigned voice, “Yes, Massie.” “You are a gull-darned cow tipper, Reginald. I do not believe it. My own brother is a cow tipper.” Keith and the boys pulled the hounds away and secured them. “Come down out of the tree with your hands up” ordered the sheriff’s deputies. Reginald looked down at the ground and hesitated. He had no idea just how he and Fu Wei got up this tree, and now he was uncertain how they were going to get down, and just how did they think he was going to do it with his hands up? Just then there was a loud sound that sounded like a gunshot. For an instant, Reginald believed that the deputies had shot at him, but then a new realization occurred to him. The limb on which he and Fu Wei had taken shelter was a dead one, and it was now starting to sag and was slowly breaking. The weight of the two men was too much and the wood was cracking and giving away. The two men jumped clear just as the massive limb crashed to the ground. They landed in a mucky area of the pasture where the cows had torn up the ground. When the sheriff’s deputies pulled them out, they were covered from head to foot in slime. The entire time the photographer was snapping away. Reginald and Fu Wei were cuffed and led away.

The next morning, an 18-wheeler wrecker was bought up from Texarkana and pulled the horse transporter out of the mire at Bogy’s farm. Atlas was soon on the road again, and had no idea what all that commotion in the adjoining field had been all about. Reginald Bogy and Fu Wei were charged with trespassing with first-degree intent to cow tip under Arkansas’ new anti-cow tipping law. Everyone remarked that it was ironic that the first person convicted under the act was the brother of the man who had lobbied so hard to get it enacted.

Far away in China, Zhang Gang opened his display case. He almost lovingly lifted up a statue of a horse that was as priceless as it was ancient and handed it to his assistant. Deep within him was both regret and resignation. The assistant took it to another room and carefully packaged it for shipping. On the shipping label he wrote: To Maria Boccamotore, C/O Greenspring Hallows Academy, 67590 Greenspring Hallows Road, Cockeysville, Maryland 21030 USA. Zhang realized what he was doing was contrary to Chinese law, but he also knew that he had to do this. If he did not, he would never know peace. This object was something far more than just a statue: it was something intangible. It was an essence or a spirit. He now understood that heaven had mandated that this one could never really be his. No, it belonged to that girl in Maryland. Could one so young understand this? He hoped that someday she might. Although he did not know it, it would also seem that very moment justice turned her eyes away from him and on her lips there was a smile. Though few appreciate the fact, justice also has a sense of humor.

The box was smuggled into the U.S. and mailed from San Francisco. Several days later, Maria Boccamotore was surprised to receive a large and mysterious box in the mail. In it was the statue of a horse and a card which simply read: “A gift for Maria Boccamotore Best of luck...Gang.” Maria looked at the statue and said to her girlfriend, “You know that statue looks a lot like Atlas.” Yes, it most certainly did.