~:: Farm Friday ::~

This is not part of the farm.  This is actually the front gate of our house.  It used to be a very nice, clean log fence and gate.  Then we bought mini Australian Shepherds who we should have groomed for agility competition.  Or trained.  Instead, we started to build up, intending that someday, we would exceed the dogs’ launch capacity.  The cans are there for scary effect, but didn’t really work; I kept them up there because they were a cheery spot of color in a bland and gray world.  It’s embarrassing.  But we still have two dogs.  Function over form.

THIS part of the essay is titled: How to Start a Tractor.

This part of the essay is titled: Farm Fashion

This part of the essay is titled: Re-meeting the Horses

This is what I see every gray, chilly morning: sad horses, almost having given up all hope, coming to greet me.  Hickory seems struck absolutely dumb.

Speaking of Hickory, this is a picture of him.  Scruffy, muddy – shedding – but cute as heck.

This is the ancient and stolid Jedda Moon.

This is gangly Sophie, who is the best hugger.

This is the mud part.  Soft footing.  They sink to their fetlocks.  No help for it till the world dries out.

This part of the essay is called: The Shark Horse

This is Dustin.  I am supposed to be feeding him.  I am supposed to be feeding ALL of them.  But I’m not.  Instead, I am taking pictures.  Can you tell that this is irritating Dustin?  He’s the alpha – calls the shots, deals the cards, generally takes out his moments of spleen on everybody else (except me – I am meaner than he is).

This is Dustin, picking on Hickory.

This is how Dustin herds Hickory around, just to make a point.

I interpret what you have just seen.

Poor Hickory.  I will use him in the next part.

THE NEXT PART: What Happens When You Don’t Have Hands

Be glad.  Be glad of your hands.

Now, this is Zion, who is showing you what NOT to do.  Do not try to assist others with their itches.  It does not work out well.

Zion is my own beloved horse.  Small, feisty, fast, but reasonable.  The next part of the essay is about him.

Here, he is showing you where he should be eating breakfast, if only someone would bother to FEED him.

Now, in this action shot, he is demonstrating the proper response to people NOT feeding you – paw the ground until you have made a hole.

Failing that, he demonstrates how a horse handles deep disappointment.

Zion’s biggest problem is that, disappointed or impatient as he may be, there are worse things.  Every day this worse thing: there is a bigger, meaner horse who handles his disappointment differently.  The Shark Horse.  Who leaves his own feedless stall and begins to troll around, looking in OTHER peoples’ feedless stalls.  Usually starting with Zion’s.

Note the tail.  He knows that Dustin is eying him.  This tail is acute aggravation.

Out of reach.

Safe, but still hungry.

Now, really – how can somebody with great hair like this be so minatory?

This part of the essay is titled: My Favorite Parts of Horses

Soft, lovely eyes.

soft noses.

And this is the end of my essay.