I Don't Care What The Weatherman Says...

Well it's raining as I write this, and it's such a peculiar feeling, as if it's come after a drought, and feels utterly fantastic. The horses were sick of it though and were waiting at the gate for me at twelve.
We've had some fun and games getting them in lately. On Wednesday I got Max and Barnaby and was quite happy to come back for Zak, and Missis got Polo and Lindy, so I thought she'd leave Fudge to wait, but she suddenly offered to take Zak in as well. Zak walks in very well with Polo, so I said yes. I opened the main gate and walked through, seeing Missis behind me, and carried on walking round to the stables. When we got inside Barnaby suddenly whipped round behind me and I couldn't think why. Missis came in laughing guiltily. Fudge had run out of the field behind her, without a headcollar on and not wanting to be left on his own, but had overshot the stable entrance and ended up in our garden! Barnaby must have heard him and wanted to go and investigate. It did occur to me that Fudge might knock over my birdbath or sundial, but he soon came round to see where we all were. I could imagine his little face squinting through the window to see us and tapping on the glass with his hoof. In the end he came back round by himself, and I held onto his rug and guided him into his stable. Such excitement!
Then yesterday, nobody wanted to come in, and they all stood there looking at me, as if I'm some sort of idiot. So I nominated Max, and went into the field, put his headcollar on and led him in. This aroused all sorts of interest, so when I got back, I held open the electric fence and called Barnaby in. He came into the holding pen, but instead of standing there and letting me put the headcollar on, he began charging round and round in a circle. He looked in a foul mood, and I knew what he was going to do. Sure enough, as he came round again, he went straight for the electric fence and jumped it, but caught a back leg on it, and snapped one of the fence posts. He took everybody off for a good gallop round the field. Fudge just stood there in amazement, so I put Barnaby's headcollar on and brought him in, then went off to find a spare fence post.
I went back to the field, where everyone was bucking and leaping and generally being silly, and took the fencing cord off the broken post to attach it to the new one. Barnaby came into the holding pen to watch me, staring at me very closely, then went over and picked up the broken piece of fencing in his teeth and started waving it about, as if to say, "So! I broke this did I? You ought to have stronger fence posts, then, didn't you?"
Then when I'd finished he came and nudged me, saying, "Are you taking me in then, or what?" I had to laugh. What was all that performance for? I put his headcollar on and he ambled in with me, as quiet as a lamb. Every so often he just needs to remind me who's boss, that's all.



I love this photograph. Zak looks as though he's got the upper hand for once and seems to be saying, "Look Barnaby, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way!"