I've spent approximately 24 of the last 48 hours driving. So, naturally, instead of falling in bed so that I can get up at 3:40am (the usual Monday schedule) or at 5am (so I can leave at 6 to drive in a predictable traffic jam and still be at work by 9), I am writing one of my now infrequent posts to LJ. Makes perfect sense to me....
If one must do this amount of driving, I would recommend taking a partner. And, preferably, not taking a horse trailer. As usual, the advice I give is the advice I wish I had taken and didn't.
Petit Point is home. An hour ago I wasn't so sure this was a good idea. Continuing in the vein of untaken advice, if you have to move a horse, don't immediately turn it loose, in the dark, in a strange pasture. If you have to do these things, at least make sure the horse is alone in the pasture, because equine greeting rituals involve a great deal of running about, and in an unfamiliar (hilly, rocky) pasture, horses are liable to do things like tripping and falling.
If you must do these things, at least choose a pasture without barbed-wire fencing.
Anyway, I turned her loose, in the dark, and watched Julian (the vague grey shape in the dark) slowly cotton on to the presence of another horse. Petit Point trotted away, then hit a canter, and then they were two vague grey shapes in the dark. Then there was a streak of blue fire. I tried to parse out what metal could possibly be involved (both horses are barefoot). Finally I decided that was Petit Point running barefoot over rocks in the dark, and striking sparks, and at that point I decided to go up and park the truck, because it was clear I was going to be of no further use in this scenario.
Back in the house, I called elflet so that someone would know I was home, and fretted at him about the above, then hung up and had a short cry composed of equal parts of hormones, panic, and stress relief.
I realized I wasn't going to sleep, exhaustion or no exhaustion, until I knew what the fuck was going on in my pasture. So I put my shoes back on and collected the 4-D-cell Maglite from my truck and went traipsing out to the pasture, about half-way down the hill, until I collected 4 green glints at the bottom of the pasture, and a rattling, suspicious snort, the sort of noise one would expect to be greeted with if one were, say, a, pack of coyotes.
Looks like the proto-herd has reformed. Just wait 'til Capucine arrives in two weeks.