MBF Herd1

MBF Herd2

Morning walk

As you might imagine, it’s considerably more humid here than it is back in Albuquerque. And while everyone is shedding out quite nicely right now, Patrick not so much.

With as much sweating as he’s been doing, we figured it’d be best to trim him for the summer.

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We pulled the clippers out on Saturday afternoon with the honorable intent of giving woolly Patty Pat Pat a full-body shave.

Yeah, not so much.

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Poor Patrick panicked at the sound of the clippers. Try as we might to comfort him, his terrified moments quickly outnumbered his calm ones. I have to assume that Patrick is more apt to panic than anyone else in the herd because of his past abuse. (Patrick is also the only one to freak when Harriet wears her blue coat.)

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He even did the unprecedented “try to kick Daddy in the head” a couple of times. That’s probably because Don threatened to shave D-O-N into Patrick’s side.

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You can see how much little we managed to get shaved. I suppose it’s enough to let Patrick feel at least a bit cooler over the next couple of months.

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Shaving him has allowed us to see Patrick’s brand for the first time though.

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The man who used to rope Patrick told Don that his brand was similar to the symbol for hazardous materials. (I couldn’t believe it either.)

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I’m going to see it as a shamrock instead.

Shamrock

After all, wonderful things can come in threes, right?

Grace Patrick Harriet

♥ ♥ ♥

From Wikipedia:

Thistle is the common name of a group of flowering plants characterized by leaves with sharp prickles on the margins, mostly in the family Asteraceae. Prickles often occur all over the plant – on surfaces such as those of the stem and flat parts of leaves. These are an adaptation that protects the plant against herbivorous animals, discouraging them from feeding on the plant. 

Thistle

Everyone except for Bernard.

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You’re not surprised, are you?

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It hurts so good.

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June 2002. Kassie’s fourth birthday; her first with me:

Kassie 2002

June 2014. Kassie’s 15th birthday:

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Kassie

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♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. (This is especially true for Bernard, who when he sees me opening a gate, is the first one to come galloping for inspection.)

Pasture

Over the course of the last few weeks, we’ve been working with the herd on the ins and outs of electric fences. I’ve heard of this working well for horses, but had serious concerns about it working with donkeys, who absolutely have minds of their own.

You can tell a horse what to do, but you have to negotiate with a donkey.    ~Elizabeth Svendsen

We started by running an electric rope in our permanently fenced pasture, then moved it to an area protected by the woods outside of that pasture, and finally last week moved it to our largest pasture area, which is open. They have a good line of sight here, so if they wanted to bolt, this is where they’d do it.

It all starts with this spool of rope:

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Which we pull out to the distance needed:

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And string it along these posts which we push into the ground:

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This allows the herd an even larger (and new!) grazing area. The area that they’re standing in here is the pasture area defined by the electric fence; the area to the right of the wood post fence line is their permanent pasture:

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This is where the electric current comes in (clipped into the electric wire that runs along the top of our permanent fence):

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I have to admit it wasn’t pleasant watching them learn that touching the white rope wasn’t a good thing. I know it hurts; I’ve touched it.

But now that they know it and respect it, they’re happy. Doesn’t Patrick look happy?

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I think Bernard (in the background behind Buck) looks pretty content too:

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 ♥

 

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Boxerwood

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Whisky

It was yesterday afternoon. A spring thunderstorm had just passed through, the sun was shining again. It was time for Harriet’s afternoon alfalfa cubes and I ventured down to the barn.

I was attempting to move one of the donkey feeders and let me tell you… it’s slicker than snot on these here hills after a good rain and, well, I fell flat on my face in the mud and manure.

I was shocked. And I laughed.

I don’t know why, but I took a picture with my phone. Maybe it’s because Don wasn’t here and I wanted to show him photographic proof of my rite of passage. The only thing is, I apparently don’t know how to take a proper selfie. Here’s what I got:

donkey concern

Yup, that’s my hand. Covered in mud and poop.

But look at this:

Ellsworth

I laughed again when I saw it up close. My beautiful boy Ellsworth, worried about his mamma after she fell down.

How can you not love donkeys?

♥ ♥ ♥