Fur In The Paint

The day has finally come when I can turn my boy out onto pasture. Mind you, he has been grazing for some time now. I put him out onto small areas for limited amounts of time to get his gut used to the grass. He has been on hay and grain all winter and in order to avoid colic or founder, as well as to keep an eye on his overall well being, I gradually introduce him to grazing. I do this by penning off small areas for him to graze and start off with one hour graze time. Then gradually extend the grazing time over 7-10 days. Other than a slightly runny nose, he is doing good, so it’s freedom time.

When I did the bale buddy post, Mike said it would have been nice to have some photos to illustrate my story. So this time in preparation for the big event, I take my camera. I would guess from barn to the far end of the pasture, it is close to 3/8 mile distance. I open the gate and he bolts down the lane like a race horse. As he reaches the post indicating entrance to the big pasture, he does a rolling stop (any quarter horse reining professional would have been proud of,) then promptly drops his head and begins to graze. I barely got my camera to my eye and the party was over.

Normally, he gallops happily around the fence. Eventually he gets a little winded and stops. Ponders the meaning of life, then starts bucking, farting and squealing for joy. Followed by another gallop around.

I wait. . .he eats. Hmmm. I come up and try to drive him away. I flail my arms and cluck, he lifts his head trots 5-10 feet and resumes eating. I try again and get the same result. (big surprise there) I try inducing him to run, by jogging away from him. He eyes me from a distance. I wait some more . . . he eats some more.

After about 20 minutes I decide that there will be no great photo shoot of him galloping through the rich green grass. His mane and tail flagging out behind him like burnished copper in the sun. Instead I’ve got a pudgy, dusty (because to add insult to injury he had to roll right after I groomed him, for the big photo op) quite average looking horse, grazing.

As I wander off defeated, I think to myself “I bet he is waiting until I am gone and then he will do something truly spectacular, like the macarena or hula or something.” Harrumph!

Starring Chicory in I Want Out.
Ah . . . Spring. Subtle flute music plays in the background amidst the chirping birdies and fluttering butterflies. The tender green shoots of grass are bursting forth from their earthy slumber. The rains have come and everything smells clean and green.

I stand outside the barn scratching Chicory, who has almost completely shed out, but still has plenty of those crazy-making itchies. Mind you, it wasn’t so very many days ago that we could have knitted some cozy little chihuahua sized sweaters, from the fur I was pulling off him.

We quietly enjoy the warmth of the sunlight and the gentle breezes. He looks wistfully out to the pasture, of which he has been denied access to, since December.

A thought comes to him. (I could see the wheels turning) He looks at me and nickers softly. I look him in the eye, silently questioning. He looks out to the pasture, pauses a moment, then looks back me. I continue to scratch him, but don’t move. He waits for a moment, then swings his head s-l-o-w-l-y back to look at the pasture. He holds a little longer than before, then looks back at me. I smile placidly and continue to pet him. The words, “Whats that Lassie? Timmy’s stuck in the well!” roll through my head.

Chicory sighs deeply, his frustration at my apparent dull-wittedness is obvious. Since I am failing to comprehend what it is that he wants, he decides to take it to the next level with charades. He steps away from me and walks over to the gate. Makes eye contact again, then tosses his head dramatically over the gate leading to the pasture. This time he doesn’t look back at me, but rolls his eye over to see if I am paying attention. I think if he could have pantomimed the unlocking of the gate, he would have.

I walk over and pat him. “Sorry big guy, You’ll have to wait another week or two before I can turn you out.” He drops his head, and again sighs deeply. I would like to think he understands my meaning. But truthfully, I think he is just resigning himself to the fact that his human is a complete and utter idiot.

Soul is a small water soluble pencil painting (approximately 6×8) of my horse Chicory that I did some while ago. This is his baby face from when he was a 2 year old.

So, yesterday we put in a fresh round bale of hay for Chicory. This is kinda like Christmas for him. He always rushes up and takes massive energetic bites of hay while I am removing the twine. I finish up and move away and then the partying begins.

Soul - Water soluble pencil
Copyright by Mona Majorowicz

Usually he trots around it several times squealing. A couple of small bucks and a few kicks towards it, are thrown in for good measure. Perhaps, he will take a break to munch a mouthful or two of hay and ruminate. This is followed by snorting and rubbing his body along it like its a giant curry comb. He pushes it around the pen, breaking it up and then, flops down in total abandon and rolls and snorts and farts. Ah, such simple pleasures. In the course of the next few days he will have pushed all one ton of it around. Every few hours I will look out and see the bale has moved from its previous location. That part drives Mike a little crazy. It tends to waste hay and occasionally is really hard on the fence. But I think from Chicory’s perspective its the best horse toy ever!

Todays weather forecast: Blowing Snow

Actually these photos were taken 2 days back. I didn’t have my camera this morning but he was completely covered in snow. The only dark spots on him were his eyes and nostrils.

For the past two days it has been in the low 40’s temperature wise. Sunny and glorious. (Brings to mind, planting the garden and enjoying the great outdoors.) Today, I woke and was greeted with blizzard conditions. I could barely see to the barn. Whoh! As I staggered inside the barn I was greeted with my usual good morning nicker from my snow encrusted horse. I am always a little surprised to see him coated in snow. He can come in out of the wind whenever he wants to. But apparently he doesn’t mind the wind and snow. Rain however, now thats different. As soon as he feels the first little sprinkle on his backside he is inside the barn, peeking out the door.

We’ve had blowing snow for a couple of days now. And while I could have gone out and taken some photos of snow laden pine trees, frost covered grasses or our lovely drifty creek. I chose to illustrate our winter weather with these photos.

Hey, nothing says winter weather more than a frosty butt