rasp Hrimmi’s feet, because her toes are long. This is probably due to her late birth.
And last night we slept in the truck bed, every so often raising our heads and checking things out. Hrimmi alternated sleeping and moving around, mostly moving around. We could see the white outline of her coat, as she went rat a tat tat, rat a tat tat, tolting around the pen. At 3 30 a.m. Pete, who was awake, began asking me a multitude of questions about foal care, most of which I answered, and a few of which I said I’d have to think about.
I have numerous books that address this subject—today I will pull them out and put them downstairs, within reach.
The above makes it seem like we got things well in hand. This may be so. Our place is not falling apart around us. We are on schedule with our various projects. The other horses did not get exercised yesterday, but they are doing just fine. The goats have been grazing on the hill. The dogs are taking everything in, and chasing away errant moose. The garden seedlings have been started. Grading is about done.
But of course, I’m still feeling overwhelmed. Raising a foal is a huge undertaking. I want to bring out the best in Hrimmi – I don’t want to be the owners of a spoiled, pushy pocket pony. If this is to be, I will need to both be in the moment and do things in a thoughtful, careful manner. This is a tall order for me, since I routinely rush from one thing to the next. Foal speeds up, and Alys slows down.
Next: 153. 05/10/12: Five