Out Of Our Hands
Mathilda has decided to change her lifestyle. We were slow to get the message, so she took action.
At the Thursday morning carrot check, Hubby was greeted with an empty pen, the barriers in place [Debriefing], mare & gelding calmly eating grass out in the pasture. He came back to the house, to fish me out of bed, so that we could both stare slack-jawed. Everything was in place. No broken rails [Jailbreak]. One perfectly functioning pen, just minus one mare. How did she get out? A locked stall mystery. Jumping over the top rail would have been impossible on her best day, so we figure she got down on her hands & knees and limboed under the bottom rail.
She really, really wants to be out in the field. We have decided we had better let her. When my Grandmother was ailing, she had several habits that were contraindicated by her doctors. I consoled myself with a) everyone has a right to make their own life choices & b) being stubborn got her past her 90th birthday, so who am I to argue with success? Similarly, Mathilda is more likely hurt herself frolicking with Rodney but she is far happier. How do we balance her mental versus physical needs when they are in conflict? We want to envelop her in bubble wrap. She wants to be a horse. Plus, being stubborn got her to 28, so who are we to argue with success?
We are building up to full turnout for both at the same time. It may take us a while to wrap our minds around the idea. However, we better be quick about it, or she will take matters into her own hooves again.
Late breaking news: Hubby just came back from the barn. They are out in the field. Rodney is napping. Mathilda is standing guard. Our herd is behaving like a herd. That has to be good for both of them.
Gratuitous Kitten Pic