Down to the wire

Wow, did we have wind this weekend. The sun was lovely, but stepping outside meant eating dirt, sand-blasting and being pummeled by branch bits. The horses tucked their tails and hunkered in behind the tree grove.

They'd really rather be out on grass, but it's been so cool that nothing's growing like it should in spite of all the moisture we've had. Since we still have lots of hay, they're going to stay confined to the lot until the green stuff is taller, like it or not.

The grass is extremely tempting, however, and unfortunately Sunny isn't inclined to wait. Sunday afternoon I counted: 1 black - 2 black - 3 tri-color bay... No fat chestnut drowsing in the sun. Sunny, drat him, was over the fence in the tree grove contentedly munching away. Not sure how he managed that, and he wasn't inclined to demonstrate once I finally had him back on the right side - we ran electric to keep him from stepping across via a snow bridge this winter, and there weren't any hoofprints in the blocked off section - grrrr!

I'd love to open the grove for all of them, but a) there isn't a gate into it, and more importantly b) the tree grove has all sorts of nasty junked metal things and rats' nests of wire tangled in among the trees. That's why there's no gate.

It's definitely NOT safe for ponies.

Sunny caught a hoof in the roll pictured above as I led him back. He dragged it along behind him for about 10 feet before I heard the wire-slidey noise over the wind howl and realized he was snagged. I stopped, he stopped. Should I back him up, or just try to get him undone where he was - visions of him deciding to panic and flailing about as soon as I stepped away from his head flashing through my mind....

In the brief seconds I debated, Sunny looked around, eased the tangled foot up, stretched it back and out like he was doing yoga and - zi-in-g!! Off came the wire. Down went the leg. And down went his head just in case he could snag another mouthful of grass while we were paused. Twit.

No gate, so the only way to get him back IN the fence was go over it. Once I had it squashed down as far as I could in the lowest section, I walked him up, stepped over and asked him to follow. And he did, one careful, high step at a time.

So I spent an hour or so inspecting the fence for pushed down spots, securing anything that looked weak, and wishing the portable fencer wasn't in Kansas with T.

Other people's fantasies may involve warm sandy beaches.
Mine involve Sunny-proof fences.