Where are all the horses?

 Having broken the no equine rule here at Rock HQ, the question you do not ever want to be asked, especially after having just "run" 3 miles, half cross country, in the dark in the remnants of hurricane Gonzalez, is, "Where are all the horses?"
Chester, here pictured at 5.30pm was in his stable, or had been, I let him out to have a stretch and feed at a fresh bale, the others, save for Misty were on Oak Bank or the runway. At least that's where I thought they all were. 10pm saw Chester looking in through the living room window and begging an apple. With hindsight this was his way of grassing on his herd who were in the process of legging it as he crunched a windfall.

When my beautiful and oh so patient wife went out to put Chester back in his stall she found the gate to the runway wide open and unlike some cheap supermarket Lasagne's, a distinct lack of ponies. Hence question, "Where are all the horses?"
Answer, in the process of over the hill and far away, in the dark, windswept hill. As they were not hungry they were in  a playful mood and so began the lets run away from the headtorch that swears game. Finally they were persuaded to return to the yard and a bright orange bucket of allure coaxed them over the threshold and behind the gate.
The open gate was not as a result of another visit from the PGOOR, more a product of my own stupidity as I had not shut it properly when very helpfully fetching firewood earlier.