What Happened Jackson?

Sunday morning when Brett fed the horses, he noticed that Jackson was all scraped up.  He suggested that I go take a closer look.

Jackson was filthy so I walked him to the barn and gave him a bath while assessing his wounds, of which there were many.  Thankfully, they were all superficial.

He had claw marks by his withers and on his back.

Two fetlocks were scraped down to the skin.  There was a big scrape on his haunches and an even larger one on his front leg.  None of them were bleeding or tender, although the one on his leg was quite swollen.

I put Swat (fly repellent for wounds) on all the areas and hand walked him while he dried.  He munched on dry grass under the trees while Mufasa called like mad.

Mufasa came all the way up from the bottom of the pasture, and into the smaller pasture we call the bedroom, to be close to his buddy.

Mufasa was very happy when I brought Jackson back into the pasture.

Jackson was "meh" about the reunion.  Its funny how the horse who leaves doesn't care, but the ones left behind have meltdowns.

The swelling has steadily diminished and is completely gone now.

We do have mountain lions in the area -- and coyotes.  It doesn't look like the typical scrapes and scratches Jackson gets from playing with Mufasa, and engaging in mutual grooming activities.

Something jumped him or scared him so much that he got tangled up in a tree or the fence.  Jackson is a very level headed horse, not prone to panic, so something legit was out there.

I wish we he could tell us what it was.

Dragging

Between the heat and all the entertaining we did this weekend, Brett and I were wiped out today.  Entertaining is always exhausting -- Brett kills himself making the property spic-and-span while I work in the kitchen.  This time, Brett was willing - but I wouldn't let him - do as much as normal.  He still gets really tired in the afternoons and evenings and I wanted him to enjoy himself.  So, I did most of the prep, all of the cooking, and all of the clean up.  I'm not complaining because it was my idea to invite the neighbors over for margaritas (and two kinds of salsa plus guacamole, all home made) Saturday.  Brett had a difficult time making it through the evening so Sunday I wouldn't let him help with anything.  He did sneak out onto the front porch and hose it down, but other than that he rested.

Our guests Sunday evening were a colleague of mine from work and his wife.  It was a thank you dinner to my co-worker for the work he did to help me close a difficult negotiation.  His wife loves animals, they have two cats and recently moved out of the suburbs onto a bit over an acre near Napa.  She wants goats.  I did as much prep as I could before they arrived, anticipating that we would be spending a lot of time in the goat pen.  She loved the goats and had a million questions.  Then she met Tuffy and fell in love with him as well, rubbing his ears and the side of his face while he pressed his little donkey face against her hip.

We had appertifs in the garden and then moved inside for dinner (ribs, roasted potatoes and salad with pears, cheese and a champagne vinegar, lime and honey vinaigrette).  Brett made it all the way through dinner without grimacing but as soon as they left, he dove for the couch and elevated his knee.  It took me a good hour to clean up and then we collapsed in bed.

Today, was another hot one.  The horses did the usual; hugging the shade and the water trough.

We got another egg, we are pretty sure it is Lady Gaga and Phyllis Diller who are laying.  Eggs always start out small when the chickens start to lay and Polish chickens are a small breed to boot.  The egg was minuscule.

But tasty.

Lady Gaga's egg on the right, neighbor farm's egg on the left.

Entertaining is exhausting for introverts like us.  We enjoy it, but it really saps our energy.  I worked a bit in the garden this morning before it got too warm.  Then I crawled onto the couch with my iPad and crocheting for the rest of the day.  Too tired to cook.  Going to have PB&J for dinner and then hit the sack.

I'm hoping the dog days of summer are about over.