THERE IS A strong measure of irony in the fact that horses, which have been such instruments of vast social, political and economic change in human society, can themselves be killed by change alone. Upset to their routine can precipitate enough anxiety to make them colic fatally. Horses are vulnerable creatures. An old platteland farmers’ saying is that nearly all of God's creatures are perfect, but he should be given another chance to design the horse. Horses’ systems are unusual in that their breathing and eating systems merge, making it impossible for them to vomit. Simple indigestion can thus mean death. Horses need ritual and habit, and lack of these can further weaken their immune systems. In addition, horses are stoic. As prey animals, they reveal illness only if they cannot avoid it. They do not vocalise pain in the same way that other animals close to human society – like dogs – do, so it is difficult to tell when a horse is ill, at least in the early stages. All this is due to the evolution of their survival instincts so as not to appear as the weak animal in the herd, which would attract a predator's attention. (It would perhaps have made a difference to the way horses were used historically had they yelped like a dog when assailed with whips and spurs.) Eating unusual fodder, drinking too much water after hard work, a spell out in very hot or very cold weather, unfamiliar pathogens and alien plants can all lead to incapacitation and death – in short, all the changes one might expect a war in a foreign country to impose on a horse.

The changes offered by war were, of course, far greater than the small litany given above, but as this chapter will show, it was not direct combat that proved the greatest threat. In this chapter, the role of horses in this South African war is explored through the lens of their mortality.