I wake up late. Perhaps in reaction to being around the hay yesterday, I ended up taking Benadryl in the night and oversleep. The grazing routine is off, the horses need to be put in their barn paddock and the boy goats let out—unless Dave thought to do them before leaving this morning? With the front perimeter fence finished except for a brushy area of the woods, we decided to add another “pasture” into the rotation and let the horses graze the yards for a week or two. I didn’t write down when we took them off the front pasture last time, and for parasite management we don’t want to put the horses back on the same ground until it’s been six weeks. However, at any time while grazing, horses may suddenly start running, whether due to springtime high spirits or a startlement of wind or sound. Not wanting to risk Sara toddling across the yards with loose horses, we switched schedules so the horses graze at night instead of in the day.
I hurry out, squinting toward the barn—yes, the horses are standing behind the gate, swishing tails in the barnyard. The boys let me know they still need out and I detour by their pen enroute to the barn. The panels near the hay entrance are pushed aside again, giving room for goats to squeeze through. Yet another item moves to the top of Dave’s ToDo list: install a proper gate at the hay door—perhaps a section of the versatile fence panels, suspended on hooks or nails?