"There are wild horses on Sable Island. There have been for more than 200 years," the woman on the video says.
Four horses gallop in a line along the wide, sandy beach. Breaking waves wash up the beach until they touch the horses' hooves. They are small horses, many shades of brown. The sun is bright and as they run the wind from the ocean tosses their manes and tails, long and wild.
"The horses have been left alone because Sable Island is isolated. The island is in the North Atlantic Ocean. The nearest land, Nova Scotia, is 160 kilometres away."
The narrator stands on a high dune looking out to sea. Strong wind tosses her long, blond hair. She says, "This is Bald Dune, the highest point on the island. From up here you can really see that if you are on Sable Island, you are a long way from anywhere." The camera looks out to sea, flat in all directions to the horizon, blue and endless.
Then the camera is high in the air and shows the whole island, long and shaped like a quarter moon, surrounded by dark blue ocean. Its interior is covered in green grass; all the way around its shore is a wide, sandy beach.
"About 38 kilometres long, but only 1.5 kilometres at its widest, Sable Island is home to between two and three hundred wild horses." A horse walks slowly across the beach and into the ocean. The waves wash around her legs and she bends down and touches her lips to the sea, just for a bit of salt.
John watched the video about Sable Island, slouched in his chair in the living room. He lived alone. It was Saturday, almost noon, and he was hung over. He often watched this video when he wanted to feel better. It soothed him to see beaches and sunshine, to hear the cries of sea gulls flying in the blue sky and the crash and roar of breakers on the beach. And he loved the wild horses.
The young woman on the video says, "It's often believed the horses are the descendants of horses who survived shipwrecks. Actually it appears that during the Expulsion of the Acadians the horses were seized by a New England businessman; he was under contract to Britain to transport the imprisoned Acadians. It is believed that he put the stolen horses to graze on Sable Island for the summer; he intended to ship them to the Caribbean to sell for work on sugar plantations. But he died and the horses stayed on the island."
Three horses walk slowly along the shore of a light blue pond, rippled by a breeze. The horses stop to drink. "This is in the island's interior meadow; the grass here is rich and green." The three horses walk slowly away from the pond, bending to eat the fresh grass.
John thought: that's all they have to do to live − drink from a pond and eat grass.
He earned his living as a bailer; using a press, two sheets of paper and three pieces of twine, he bundled 500 empty potato bags in 90 seconds. He did that over and over again − and over and over again − for eight hours every working day.
John started his weekend with a union meeting. Going into the meeting, everyone knew that if they rejected this contract offer, the company could lock them out. The company could lock them out and bring in scabs to do their jobs. So everyone wanted to accept the offer.
Ron, the president, gave them the main points: "They want us to take a five per cent pay cut the first year of the contract and then a two-year wage freeze."
Everyone booed and yelled.
"That's an insult!" Frank shouted from the back of the room.
"Yeah, it is," Ron said. His voice was raspy from cigarettes. "But there's worse: the company wants to change the union membership rules − and it's easy to see that they want to get rid of the union." Ron paused to let the members think about what he'd just said. "Now everyone who works at the factory has to be a union member. The company wants it to be that you're not a union member unless you sign a card every year saying you want to be a union member." He paused and coughed. "If they get that rule though, don't kid yourself, the company will push and bully anyone who signs a card, make their lives living hell, until pretty soon nobody will sign a card. And if nobody signs a card, then there will be no union."
Everybody made a lot of angry noise and called out things like, "No way!" "Screw that!" "Tell them to go to hell!"
Ron didn't try to restore order; he let them yell for a while. When they ran down, he said, "And there's another thing to think about."
Everyone waited for what he was going to say.
"If they get rid of the union, don't kid yourself, sooner or later they'll get rid of everyone who ever supported the union. And that's all of us in this room."
For the first time during the meeting, the room was silent.
Two mares stroll through high wild hay, thick with wildflowers. Then a proud stallion trots across the field, keeping an eye on his two mares. The young woman on the video says, “The dominant stallions, horses in their prime, have harems of two or three mares, accompanied by their offspring. The leftover males, mainly the adolescents and the old, form groups of bachelors who graze together. But they all watch the mares all the time. Sometimes a bachelor stallion takes a mare away from a harem."
A single stallion trots up beside a mare, slides along her side and tries to nudge her away from her herd. But we hear running hooves and her stallion is there and bites the intruder's rump. The stallions circle each other, neighing and scraping the ground with their hooves, tossing their heads. They rise on their hind legs, front hooves kicking into the air, teeth showing, ready to bite.
"Real fights are rare." The two horses drop to the ground and the intruder slips away. "It wastes a lot of energy to fight so the horses avoid it. And if you're a wild horse, life is hard enough without getting hurt; there's no one to take care of you. Even so, if a horse approaches a mare, the stallion will always confront − a lot is at stake here: it decides who has access to the mare."
The union members rejected the company's contract offer − no one saw any other choice. Even though they knew that they were going to be locked out.
After the meeting, what John really wanted was to go home to Katrina but they'd been divorced for two years. He didn’t want to go back to his apartment because he was always alone there.
So he went to the Rockin’ Roundup on King Street. People drank and danced to country music; he drank and watched the women dance. He was like one of the bachelor stallions on Sable Island watching for a mare. But he asked no one to dance. He was never good at casual conversation with strangers so he seldom met women in bars. He seldom met anyone anywhere. He used to have friends, buddies, when he was in high school. But Katrina didn't like most of them and the rest just drifted away. He had lots of friends after that, but after she left him he realized those friends were all husbands and boyfriends of her friends. So he never heard from any of them either.
Leaning against a post near the dance floor, he gently swirled what was left of his triple rye whisky and water − and worried about what he was going to do after he was locked out, when he was out of a job. How was he going to pay his rent? How was he going to feed himself? He only had high school. If he couldn’t find another union job, he saw himself working in a car wash or a convenience store for minimum wage, renting a room in some run-down downtown dive and in his spare time walking around looking for returnable bottles. Would he ever have to stop strangers on the street and ask for money?
The young woman on the video says, "There were many shipwrecks on Sable Island. The currents collide from the north and south, and sand bars surround the island. Ships were caught on the bars and destroyed by pounding waves."
A horse walks by a piece of a hull from a sailing ship, half buried in the sand, its planks held together with wooden pegs.
"With modern navigation − and the island's automated, solar-powered lighthouses − there is little danger but between 1801-1958, for example, there were 221 recorded wrecks. And there was the washed-up evidence of many unrecorded wrecks. Historians think about 10,000 sailors died. Now an emergency shelter − an empty bunkhouse stocked with food − awaits shipwreck victims; back then, the few who made it ashore usually died of exposure."
John imagines himself after the shipwreck, swimming toward Sable Island in waves as high as three-storey buildings. He’s a good swimmer but his arms ache. Finally his feet hit ground and he wades, then as the wave goes back to the sea he stumbles and falls to his hands and knees, exhausted. But he forces himself to get up and stagger up the beach; he is terrified that a big wave will wash him back out to sea. Then a wave does pick him up and carry him but it drops him nearer the shore so he gets up again and runs and another big wave comes but it only reaches his waist so he keeps wading. After he is well up out of the water, he falls flat on his back on the sand and pants. Only then does he realize it’s raining.
It’s cold in the wind and rain so he walks along the beach. He finds an empty crate, something from a past shipwreck, high up on the beach away from the waves. It’s big as a piano and is on its side. He crawls into it and pulls down the lid. He’s out of the rain and most of the wind. Soon he is asleep.
In the morning, it’s sunny with a breeze off the ocean. Behind the beach is a high sand dune, thick with tough beach grass. He climbs up to the top of the dune. He can see far out over the sand bars that surround the island − but he sees no sign of his ship.
He looks inland. The dune runs all the way around the island; from where he stands, he can see the dune on the other side of the island. And in the middle, sheltered from the sea by the dunes, is a beautiful, green meadow.
He sees three horses running in the meadow and he’s excited because he thinks if there are horses here, there must be people. But then he sees that their manes and tails are long and bushy, not trimmed, and he knows they are wild horses.
John is hungry and fears he’ll starve. But first he finds a blueberry patch down in the meadow. And not long after that he sees a big wooden barrel rolling back and forth in the surf. He pushes it up onto dry sand and smashes its end with a piece of driftwood. The barrel is full of biscuits! The next day he finds a small barrel; it has six packages of dried goat. He spends days walking along the beach and dragging crates and chests and barrels up out of the water. He finds vegetable seeds, a musket complete with bags of shot and dry gun powder, a carpenter’s tool chest and kegs of nails. And best of all, a case of old rye whisky.
He finds pieces of hulls and decks. He takes them apart. He takes crates apart. With the lumber he builds a one-room cabin on the beach, up near the dune where it’s safe from the waves. He has no glass but he builds big open windows in the walls and makes shutters that cover them. Looking out through his front windows, he sees the ocean stretching to the horizon.
Sometimes wild horses walk by.
John collects driftwood and stacks it near his cabin. It dries quickly in the sun and the wind, and then it’s good firewood. Behind his cabin he makes a path between the dunes to the interior meadow. There John grows a garden; beans, turnips, carrots and potatoes do well here. He puts up a fence to keep out the horses. Cranberries grow wild on Sable Island; he makes a tasty cranberry juice. There are a few strawberries and lots of blueberries. Many birds nest here so he eats eggs. With his musket, he shoots ducks. He digs clams. He catches fish from the ocean; the fishing is good around Sable Island. He cooks his food over a driftwood fire on the beach.
He keeps the fire going all the time; he hopes a passing ship will see the smoke. At night, he throws on wood until the fire is burning very high so that a ship way out at sea could see it. He watches the flames and their reflection on the ocean. He listens to the crackle of the fire and to the waves washing up on the beach. He drinks a little of his old rye whisky and wonders: if a ship sent a rescue party to the island, would he run to them or would he run away and hide?
On Monday morning, John went to the factory.
The union members were worried that they’d be locked out, but the company didn’t lock them out. After the union rejected the company’s contract proposal, the company shut the factory down.
There were notices on all the doors, just little pieces of paper with small type, like a notice for a blood donor clinic or a bake sale:
Employees’ final paycheques will be mailed
It didn’t say who it was from; it didn’t even say “Management” at the bottom.
Everyone milled around for a couple of hours. John decided there was no point in hanging around the factory, so he went down to the unemployment office. After filling out forms, he had to see an employment counsellor. He didn’t want to talk to a counsellor because he was embarrassed about being out of work, about taking a handout.
The counsellor was friendly and chatted about how hard it is when a company suddenly lays off its workers. “It’s a major life experience, like a death or a divorce. You build a sense of trust in the company and now the trust has been betrayed,” she said.
“No, I never trusted the company. That would be stupid.”
“Yes, but it’s stressful because you’ve lost a cornerstone of your life.”
“I’m glad I don’t have to go back to that factory; it was a horrible place to work. It’s only hard because I don’t have another job.”
“What kind of work do you think you’d enjoy, John?”
“What I really want is to be a mechanic but I don’t have the money to go to technical school.”
“Oh, John,” she reached over and touched his arm, “I’ve got great news for you! Right now, there’s a loan-and-grant program to assist with training for people whose factories have been shut down.”
He left the unemployment office, went right to the technical school and applied to study motor mechanics.
John loved working on cars; even before he owned his first car, he’d helped other guys work on their cars. After he graduated from high school, he was accepted at technical school to study motor mechanics, but that summer Katrina got pregnant so he went to work in the paper bag factory because he needed money. A few months later she lost the baby but they were already married, and it was too late in the school year for him to start at technical school.
But now he went to technical school and he graduated. He got a job at Johnson’s, the local Ford dealership; Ford was his favourite automaker. He worked on cars all the time and he loved it. He got to know the other guys there. Sometimes they had parties and they invited him. The parties were mostly people drinking and listening to country music but that was fine with John.
And he met people at these parties. Joy was short and skinny with long brown hair and brown eyes. She wore faded blue jeans but her blouse was fancy and pink. He liked her face.
“I’m a hairdresser. I worked at The City Beauty Salon on King Street for five years. But I’ve just opened my own shop, up in the mall, Joy of Hair,” Joy said.
“Thank you. What do you do?”
“I’m a mechanic at Johnson’s”
“Really!” Joy said. “I love cars and Fords are my favourite.”
John didn’t think she really loved cars, he thought she just said that because she wanted to talk to him, but he smiled because he was delighted that she wanted to talk to him.
“I drive an Escort,” she said. “It’s a lovely little car. But what I really want is a Mustang.”
“I love Mustangs too − but I don’t like the new ones so much.”
“No, no, I want one of the first models.”
“Before they made them smaller,” he said.
“Right," Joy said, "before ‘74."
Their first kiss was that night when he walked her out to her car. On their first date he picked her up in his Ford Ranger pickup. They had dinner at Frank’s Finer Diner and went to the Annual Show and Shine put on by the Provincial Mustang Owners Club. On their third date, after dinner and a movie, she insisted on taking him to her salon and cutting his hair: “You look like a porcupine.” The mall was closed so they went in through the shop’s back door. First she shampooed his hair and her sensitive fingers massaged his scalp – it made him so relaxed. And he liked her body being close to his. Then she worked around him with scissors and clippers and he enjoyed her touching him: her hand gently tilting his head to the right angle for cutting; her arm resting briefly on his shoulder; her flat stomach rubbing against his forearm. Once her breast lightly brushed his back and he thought he was going to melt. After she was done, to thank her for cutting his hair − and because he really wanted to − he took her in his arms and kissed her. She kissed him back. And they kept kissing until, on the plush leather couch in her waiting room, they made love for the first time.
That was the first night they slept together. They spent more Saturday nights together, then whole weekends, then more and more weeknights. After a few months, they realized that they were living together.
A couple of years later, they bought a house together.
The year after that, they got married.
Now sometimes on the weekend, when she goes to bed and John stays up for one more rye whisky and water, he watches the Sable Island video. When he was single and lonely, he watched it because it soothed him; now he watches it because he loves the island, the beaches and the sunshine, the cries of sea gulls flying in the blue sky and the crash and roar of breakers on the beach. And he loves the wild horses.