And for the exciting news: nothing happened.
Over the weekend, we finally let Mathilda graze on her own for a few minutes each day. Granted we were both hovering close by, grain buckets at the ready should she decide to get silly.
The goal is to get her less labor intensive. Ironically, this routine means more work for the moment. Hand-grazing requires one semi-distracted individual to follow her about on the end of a leadrope. When I’m watching her at liberty, I dare not get absorbed in a book. I don’t want the first notice of gonzo-mare to be the wind of her passage.
The other downside is that I got to see her from the back & see how crooked she walks. Way better than this spring, but still shocking. I’m usually up front & don’t get to see that angle.
She ate. She came back in. Hubby & I survived the anxiety overload. Slowly we make progress, hoofstep by hoofstep.
And then in an unrelated incident, she takes a bad step & is off. Phooey, phooey, phooey, phooey, phooey!