Bug Battle

Armed with a small tube with a spot moistened tab on the end I was ready for bug battle.  I have a yellow can of spray under my arm with the same product.  I made my way up the hill beside my house and climbed the fence into the pasture.  My two charges were waiting patiently for more of  the carrots they just had a few moments before.  This time it was spray and wipe, spray and wipe, a little dab here and there.  Good enough, the darn face flies have arrived and we’re armed and ready.

A face mask is the only adornment for the White Queen.  The horse whose life was spent moving buffalo around out west is sporting his fly mask and an anti-fat horse mask.  He can eat his carrots if I drop them through his mask from the top.  Or if it’s the smaller end he gets it while the White Queen gets the big end of the carrot.  He’s not so bothered by the pesky bugs. But the White Queen seems to be a tasty morsel. I’ll have to keep her sprayed and wiped to make her comfortable.

You learn a lot about a horse when it’s her first summer at Riparious.  I enjoy seeing my horses from the house windows.  It seems like the horses I have elsewhere don’t exist except for the monthly bills that land in my mailbox.  Wish the farms could send me a tuft of hair, or a picture, or recording of their sounds; sensory reminders for a horse in the netherlands.  I guess I’m a hands on type of person rather than a let others take care of my animals sort. I like the day to day observation of their lives rather than the thought of them. They’re very real when you can stroke their coats and feel their breath when you give them a treat. I better drop my tools and go and see them soon . . . .