The plight of the mare and her foal preyed on my mind today so after doing a bout of paid work I got back to Rock HQ and set off up the hill to serve dinner, consisting of some build up cubes, chaff, carrots and apples. Seeing me again she plodded dutifully over, a bit more cautious this time as I had the famous five Berners with me, two were left back at the ranch, Reba much to her disgust charged with babysitting Reuben.
The mare had a quick sniff to make sure I wasn't going to hurt her or the foal and then set about having dinner. Her tasty bucket full was not the only thing on the menu. I was. Every exposed bit of flesh served as a feeding station to horse flies and midges, and as the midges this side of the hill are the size of flip flops with teeth pretty soon I was a mass of swelling bites.
The horse is thin, probably not thin enough to warrant a report to the RSPCA, who incidentally still have not responded to my report of the seven dogs locked in one house, or my complaint of their inaction, or my complaint that they had lost my complaint. Anyway, the horse is thin, but not that thin, and she probably has worms, hence the swollen belly, and with a foal this size feeding off her she should be on a more substantial feed than summer grass.
After munching her way through dinner she had another sniff of me, and by way of a thank you gave a massive horsey burp that seemed to start from her tail and was delivered with gusto into my face she stepped back to get on with horsey mum things like feeding the little one and glaring at the dogs.
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