The good news is we have water at the house. A shower never felt so good. The bad news is somewhere between the house and the main valve at the barn, the pipe is frozen. I have been hauling water from the house to the barn for three days now. This is not what I call fun, especially when it’s cold and windy and I’m out there till 6:30 at night sometimes. I haven’t the strength to pull the starter on the generator so tomorrow I will try to exchange batteries (new for old) so I can use the automatic starter. I couldn’t even get it to turn over once. That’s embarrassing. If I can get the generator going I can put a heater at the main line, and the pump box in the barn. Please Lord Let It Be!
The boys have been very good. They patiently wait for the troughs to fill taking full advantage of the fact that I am there obviously just to give them pets. Yes they want water, but pets are much more important. The girls on the other hand don’t understand why when I put the hose in the trough the water doesn’t magically completely fill the trough. They bite they kick at each other, and give me enough dirty looks to kill any human. The pasture girls are much more interested in what is in the gator that they can eat, be it metal, rubber, or scraps of hay. Mind you I gave them extra flakes to keep them occupied. Lightning especially is sure that whatever is in the gator is there for her pleasure.
Amidst all this fun, my little stud colt decides that now is the time for him to prove that he is all boy. First he manages to catch his leg on something and scrape the fur off. Ok I can deal with that. At some point or another they all scrape up their legs. His leg is sore, but he has full movement, and it just amounts to the same as if I fell and scraped my knee when I was a kid. For years I had scars on my knees. I wasn’t a clutz, I was just a tom boy with two boys next door to play with. No way would I not do everything they did, not this chick.
That was at feeding time. Later I started filling all the troughs again and when I come to Sierra & Lizzie’s trough I look and see red on his nose. Now what? I go in his paddock and he shows me his boo-boo. He couldn’t just scrape his nose, noooo, he has to get a deep cut so he can have stitches. My boxer pup is still recovering from her visit to the vet last week and now I have to call again and have the vet come to the house this time. The cut is about three inches long and way to deep to just let it heal on it’s own. I can’t for the life of me figure out how he did it, and neither could the vet when he came.
Luckily he missed going through to the nasal passage (how did I luck out there?), but it was still very deep. Sierra got half dozen stitches or more. Sierra was on his best behavior with the vet (Thank you Lord for that). He took his shot like a man and only fought a little when they were giving him a local to deaden that sensitive nose. Lane stitched him together on the inside so he wouldn’t rub the stitches out the first day. Of course Sierra’s feeling no pain at this point, he’s drunk as a skunk so to speak. He gets his tetanus, antibiotic etc., and wanders off with his head down low.
After the vet leaves I get to finish feeding and watering so that by the time I’m done, Sierra is quite himself again and feeling proud. Yes sir, he’s all boy.
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