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Bud’s Turn to Speak

Dear Diary,

I fought hard to keep our mares, but truth is, I’m just not as strong as I used to be. There was a time I would have kicked that interloper out so fast his head would have spun circles. He’d have thought twice about taking me on.

But, unfortunately that’s not the case anymore.  Beau beat me up pretty bad and I have no desire to tangle with him again any time soon.

He has shown no respect for his elders. He’s young, inexperienced, and new to the pasture. Guess he thought he had to make a grand entrance.


Any fool could steal the two oldest mares in the pasture. Sorry Pepper, but that just shows how misguided he is.  He ought to be making a herd with mares his own age, but they’re a bit harder to steal, because some seriously strong, kick-butt geldings defend them.

Nope, as far as I’m concerned, Beau is a coward. He picked the easiest marks.

Amigo, Red and I had a nice little herd. We protected our mares. We kept to ourselves and didn’t bother anyone. It was bad enough when Baby was taken away. We’ve become a herd of three lonely old bachelors.

I still have a hope that Pepper will come to her senses and return to us. And bring Chickadee with her.

Eventually they will have to see through all that strutting and posing from the golden boy and realize he’s just a kid.

Will he even protect them when they’re in the large herd? I doubt it. He’s not that smart.

Right now they’re running on pure hormones, like horses have been doing forever. I don’t blame Pepper, but I sure as heck miss her.

Getting old sucks!


Yesterday I mentioned that Pepper had jumped the taped off fence to get to her grain. I called it a small miracle, which to my way of thinking it was.

But that wasn’t the only unusual happening in the pasture that night. When I first headed out looking for our crew, I couldn’t help but notice one very upset black horse, running himself ragged around the circumference of the pasture.

It was Midnight, and he had worked himself into a frenzy, galloping and calling out. His coat was wet, his eyes wild. And I was pretty sure I knew who he was searching for.

Miss H. or Hanger as we had nicknamed her.

Remember the sweet little sorrel mare who often walks with me when the other horses bolt ahead?

Hanger, the mare I was trying to rename to something more suitable to her personality.

First of all you need to know that we found out her given name and it fits her to a tee. Rick met her people and learned that Hanger’s real name is, get ready…


Isn’t that adorable? And so perfect.

It turns out that Chickadee and Midnight are an item. He picked her out almost as soon as he came into the herd last winter. Then he got sick and was taken out of the pasture to the barn.  He just returned a few weeks ago and it seems like he and Chickadee picked up right where they left off.

I guess she likes him well enough, because she stays by him.

He tried to entice Pepper into his harem, but she let him know in no uncertain terms that she was NOT interested. “Back off fool,” she said in horse language.

Poor Midnight.

Right now he has a harem of one. But what a one! I know I’m partial, but Chickadee is one sweet little mare.


As near as we could figure, Midnight had probably been out having a lesson when the rest of the herd moved away. They were in the farthest corner of the pasture where I couldn’t see them. When Midnight was let back in to the pasture, his main squeeze was nowhere to be found. He was not a happy boy. In horse terms, he was acting more like a stallion than a gelding.

So when I brought the herd in, Midnight and chickadee were reunited. He calmed down almost immediately. They stood side by side at the fence waiting for their treats.

Big sigh.

Once again, all is right in the world.

At least the world of the pasture.







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