Habit seems to keep me glued to my chair and keyboard when I have horses outside to play with. After lunch, reading, finishing up the laundry, hitting the farmers' market, grocery shopping, etc, I sat in front of the glowing evil screen (my laptop, not the TV -- I don't own a TV) and contemplated horse chores awaiting me.
Then I got up, filled my pockets with carrots, fished several tubes of wormer out of the closet, and went outside to contemplate them more closely.
Went halfway down the hill, and the girls came up to meet me (so gratifying, even knowing it as a demonstration of the power of variable reinforcement :-) At this point, I realized I hadn't brought their halters with me. So I distribute a few carrots and yank a chunk of Petit Point's mane for her DNA test -- chore the first completed. I head back up the hill, tape the hair to the form and prepare it for mailing.
Refill on carrots and head back outside. Fortunately for my lazy self, the mares were grazing about where I had left them. This time I haltered them before any carrots were distributed, and walked them up to the top of the hill, where I distributed triple doses of pyranel pamoate, chased by more carrots. (Petit Point was clearly quite disturbed by how nasty carrots taste when iced with worming paste.) Chore the second completed, and I turn everyone loose.
By now I'm on a roll, so I take Capucine's new halter up to the house for some surgery (somehow a ring has gotten caught on a buckle, and it eventually requires a hammer to jar loose) and fetch the salt block from the other paddock, which I've only been procrastinating on for untold months. I believe intellectually that horses need salt as a supplement to pasture, but my experience so far is that the damn blocks melt in the rain faster than the horses eat them.
Capucine and Petit Point investigate this novel object near their water trough with proper equine suspicion. Then Capucine tries to bite it, and then she catches on and settles in for a long session of licking (interspersed with giving Petit Point the hairy eyeball when the latter tries to get her nose into the act. It's clear who's running this show now.) It was so satisfying to watch, I sat down on a nearby flat rock and just admired mares for a while.
Petit Point is just the faintest bit ribby, so it's time to start buying and putting out hay. Capucine is still round like a classic Davenport air plant, never mind that her back is just a hair long. I hope, after the preceeding year's effort and long-distance carrying on, that she's still pregnant. I suppose we'll find out around 1 February. Or I could break down and find out what Pioneer charges for a preg check.