Picture Perfect Day

This morning, Brett and I took Pistol and Flash up to the Back Forty pasture, where we rode yesterday, to graze.  They’ve pretty much mowed down the donkey pasture and their weight is looking good.  I don’t think we will need to continue the alfalfa, which is stemy and coarse.  They dig for the leaves and leave the rest behind for the goats.

When Lucy saw them up in the top pasture, she threw a fit.

“Why do they get to go out?  Why?  Why?”

I turned to Brett and suggested letting them out as well, one by one, so we didn’t have a stampede on our hands.  Tex was waiting at the gate so l let him out first.  Lucy was miffed.

Tex cantered away, up toward the top pasture with Sage joyfully barking alongside.  I think she thought she was herding him but, really, she was just going along for the ride.  Tex jumped the stream and slid to a stop outside the Back Forty pasture fence.  I decided to let Tex into the pasture, since he and Flash were pasture mates and good friends.  I knew they would enjoy hanging out together.

As I approached, Tex walked slowly away and then turned to face me.  I didn’t have anything with me, no halter or lead rope.  I haven’t done liberty work with Tex in quite awhile but I tapped my shoulder and he walked over to me and lined himself up.  Together we walked to the pasture gate and I let him in.  The thing with liberty work is you want to reward the horse by taking him somewhere good.  Being let into the Back Forty was a huge reward for him.

Next we let Lucy out and then left the gate open for Luek, who was busy down at the fence line watching the others and not paying attention to the gate.  Brett had to get a halter and lead him out.   Once out the gate, Brett slid the halter off and Luek loped up to the others.  He settled under a large oak and got down to the work of grazing.  Brett spent some time visiting with him there.

Our property was meadow and marsh before the house was built in the 1980s.  The grass still grows lush and green in the spring; bluegrass, clover, and rye.  The horses rip at it greedily.  The morning air was full of the sound of ripping grass, chewing, and the occasional squeal from Pistol.  That mare loves boys.  Things were pretty peaceful, except for the moments when Lucy felt the need to draw attention to herself by being bossy or prancy, or both.

The neighbors enjoyed the view as well.  You can’t beat watching horses in a green pasture, loving life.  Unless you are a donkey on the wrong side of the fence.