run with the wild horses

Unexpected encounters with horses:

I'm sunning myself by a quiet brook in the mountains. Four gigantic horses, of the draught horse kind, trot into view. Not another human being in sight. The horses wander down to the brook to drink and splash. I stare. A few minutes later, their owner and his friend show up, panting: "We've been chasing them for hours!"

The man who drives tourists in his horse-drawn carriage hands me the gelding's reins: "Could you look after him for me while I run inside for a minute?" The horse is rather old and lethargic and I expect no problems. Until another carriage passes by and the gelding is suddenly gripped with an urge to follow the herd. We spend a tense few minutes playing tug-of-war until the man comes back.

I stroll around one of the "commons", public green areas in the city of Cambridge. It is a pleasant place on the banks of the river Cam. Lots of people out for a stroll or bike trip, and on the river, every kind of boat. There are also horses and cows mingling calmly with the people since this common is part of their pasture. When I sit down on a bench to eat a sandwich, a horse approaches and makes it clear that he fancies a snack too. When I refuse him a bite of my sandwich, he takes a bite out of my arm instead. For days afterwards, people stare at the impressive mark on my arm and worriedly ask if my boyfriend is abusing me.