This was how Rodney spent Thanksgiving. Hunting season began with – dare I say – a bang. Rodney was up on the hill monitoring the noise and occasionally trotting back & forth. Mathilda was in her pen monitoring Rodney and anxious to be out trotting as well. Hence the confinement to her pen. Hubby sat with her for part of the morning. When it looked like she wouldn’t settle without Rodney, we put him up in the stall for a few hours. He was still on alert. She calmed down because her boy toy was close. Different priorities.
It was a long day for those of us fretting about the horses, but we couldn’t hardly blame ’em.
Although nothing is guaranteed when humans & firearms interact, I am ever so slightly less concerned about the Bambi stalkers in my area. Yes, the horses’s pasture is surrounded by woods on three sides. However, these guys – and it does seem to be mostly guys – have been hunting & shooting all their lives. I remember telling a young kid that my husband didn’t hunt. He looked at me as if he couldn’t process an adult male who didn’t hunt. You know that life-altering moment you realize that other people see the world differently? Yeah, like that.
Plus, this is not a destination area. The hunters are my neighbors. They – I fervently hope – know who lives where.
When I kept horses in New England, we just left them in the barn for hunting season weekends. The area was pretty enough & close enough to population centers that city dudes would come up and fire away in drunken ignorance. As a city brat, I’m usually all for sophisticated urbanites, but not ones who don’t know a buck from a buckskin.
How went your holiday?
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Gratuitous Kitten Pic
Virtual Brush Box 
One full side of our property borders a state forest. It’s one of the biggest, most hunted in the state. For years I didn’t worry much about hunters taking pot shots at my grey Arabian, but now that my ride is a chestnut I do think about it on occasion. That said, we leave our horses out. And we also allow hunters (always the same group, 3 generations worth now) to park in the lane to our barn. About twenty years ago they posted our little dead-end road a no parking zone and our location for hunters looking to park near a trail head is prime. We love those guys. Late in the season they bring us fresh venison steaks and whiskey to thank us. It always makes me smile when I go out to feed early in the morning and see a couple of trucks parked in our lane. They arrive well before daylight, driving past our sleeping dark house and unload their gear while the horses snort and whuffle at them from the pasture. I’ve been known to do a good bit of trail riding in the state forest during hunting season. I dress in bright orange and talk loudly … even when I’m riding alone! 😉