From Tree to Bush

In the holy name of all that’s green, I’ve only gone and moved fields. Again.

I asked Kat why I was being moved from tree to bush yet again. She said I was enjoying the ‘eat all your can buffet’ too much at my old field and was getting too big.  Again.

Kat is always forgetting I’m 50% hair and actually trim as a pin underneath.

On the plus side, I’m now sharing a field with Aunty Tills and her best friend Jack – a very fetching fella who has a bit of the Murray magic going on, except in ginger.

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Meeting Jack!

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The Magical Murray

I never met Murray, but he can still get us females all of a dither, even from beyond the bridge.

Cassie is also in my new herd. She used to be my previous herd leader at the ‘eat all you can buffet’ field and it’s clear she holds the same status here as well.

I am following all the basic new herd member rules, but she won’t let me in – or anywhere near Jack. I think she might feel threatened by my extreme hairiness.

 

I mean, Cassie is looking good for the more mature lady, but she doesn’t have the kind of voluminous lustrous locks that I happily possess. 

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Cassie

It’s going to be a tough group to crack all round to be honest – they are very tight. Tills and Jack practically share the same grassy munchies and threesome grooming sessions are common.

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Tills and Jack sharing grassy munchies

I am determined to be accepted though as my safety and sanity depends on it.

I cannot be truly safe from predators left out in the cold on my own and I cannot be truly sane without any friends to share mutual grooming with and general grumblings about our humans.

Plus, I kind of like the idea of a threesome with Jack.

Until next time.

GMFN

F x

The Violation of My Belly Beard

I feel like I’ve been violated.

I can’t even muster up a happy grassy munchies today.

I’m utterly devastated. My luxurious and beloved belly beard has gone. A lady called Heather used a small zuzzy zuzzy machine to cut it all off.

Not just my beard either, but my chest hair too!

There was no consultation. No permission requested. It’s going to be a long road back from this for me and Kat. I need time. And a lot of treats.

To make the hairy matter worse, as I was leaving the so called ‘horse salon’ there was poor Aunty Tills waiting to go in after me!

I’m not one to gloat, but her belly beard isn’t (wasn’t!) a patch on mine, so I’m hoping her experience won’t be as traumatic.

When I’d regained my composure, I asked Kat what in the blazing green grasses did she think she was doing?

She said there was a little bit too much of me for January and she was worried there would be far too much of me by Spring, when really there needed to be a lot less of me.

Uhh? I think she means I’m overweight!

I asked her why horses in the wild weren’t defiled in this callous and inconsiderate manner. She said they don’t have any zuzzy zuzzy machines and they’d probably have trouble working them with their hoofs if they did.

Is she mocking me?

She also said they don’t necessarily have the same weight problems as domestic horses. This was because they can roam 20+ miles every day and eat dry grasses which aren’t as rich and sugary as the lush grass in our field.

Kat said our grass in Spring time is particularly high in sugars which can result in obesity and Laminitis. I had no idea what these were so, at this point, I started to listen – whilst retaining an air of frosty indignation, of course.

Obesity is when you get so overweight it can make you poorly and Laminitis is a very painful and serious disease of the hoof and foot. In severe cases it can lead to that final trip over The Bridge. Apparently, the high sugars and starch in rich Spring grass are one of the causes of Laminitis.

To reduce this risk, Kat said it would be better if I use the current ‘more of me’ to keep warm during the rest of Winter, instead of my ample belly beard and chest hair. That way, there will be just the right ‘amount of me’ when Spring arrives.

And, as an added bonus, I won’t drip so much with sweat after our trail riding training sessions. Bit rude.

After some grassy munchy ponderings, I decided I could understand why Kat had done it and, if she’d asked permission, I would have said over my extremely hairy dead body.

Kat doesn’t need to know that though. I’m happy for her to think I’m still grieving for my belly beard and need considerable time to recover from her betrayal. Plus, a lot more hay cobs. And, maybe a few weeks holiday from training. That might just bring me round.

GMFN

F x