A comedy of blanketing and a new drawing

I know y'all out west are done with drought, but I am done with wet and cold.  I would so gladly trade weather for a smidge.

First, just a note.  In the past, winter would come, winter would go.  The horses would be out nekkid.  Whatever.  Didn't think about it other than to parry with those who thought that I was crazy/mean/both.

Then this winter came, and the weather has just been so very cold again and again and again.  Add to that Gene's age and I suddenly have to start thinking about this subject.  Every time I get on a new horse subject - be it feet, nutrition, or teeth - I get obsessive and blathery.  Ah well, poor little blog.  Poor blog readers.  *crickets*

I didn't blanket Peanut last night.  We had a little talk about it and I told him that the weather wasn't supposed to be very cold until close to daybreak, so if he wanted a blanket he needed to look miserable to his auntie who was feeding in the morning.  If he looked fluffy and happy, no blanket.  And indeed, no blanket today.

Gene was blanketed.

With the size of the field, the snow, how bundled I have to be, and the fact that it was hay time, I decided to just drive his blanket to the top of his field and toss it on him in there.  5'2" me and a 81" heavy-weight blanket to toss on a horse whose butt I can't even see over while a certain dominant Tennessee Walker hovers around me like a large mosquito wanting sweet blood.  All during feeding time.  Let's rock.

Peanut had to be driven away two or three times, looking surprised as hell that mommy would send him off.  He eventually gave me my space until I was done, then immediately was up my butt once more.

Gene ignored me for the most part, other than the occasional lifting of a leg to beg or wrapping his head and neck around me in a stretch for a treat.

So, I crawled between the rails into the field, retrieved the blanket from the fence where the other horses found it so very interesting, and headed to Gene.  He let me pathetically swing it over his back, saw that the hose was put in the trough, and decided that he was thirsty.  With one hand on his back holding the precarious blanket in place, we strolled over to the trough.

As he drank, I got the blanket positioned, smoothed out his fur, and buckled the liner.  At that point he decided that the hay plopping into the field looked mighty scrumptious, so he wandered off, his unbuckled sheet flapping open in the front like a street flasher.

"You're not dressed yet!" I called after him, but he didn't care.  Nature boy.  Dirty hippie.

When he settled in to munch I was able to velcro, clip, snap with the periodic elbow thrust to my right which caught the nose of the field's other appy.  That shnoz kept trying to snake its way into my coat's pocket where I stashed some cookies.  Finally, only the belly straps were left.

FYI, it should be known that you should have a doctorate before trying to figure out the geometry involved in belly strap buckles.  Just sayin'.

When done, I received Gene's most enthusiastic ignoring as he munched on his hay, so I admired my handiwork and went to have the chat with Peanut.

Thus, I blanketed my first horse by myself.  Whew.  I can truly make a mountain out of a molehill, no?

Anyway, started on another picture.  On MLK Day, a couple of friends and I went to Bombay Hook Wildlife Refuge where we saw the birds that winter on the Delmarva.  Very enlightening!  I'd never been this time of year.

Knowing that they winter down here somewhere, I had gone looking for tundra swans at other reserves.  No luck, and those were quite far away.  Well, well, well, they were in Bombay all along (plus a ton of snow geese) and are turning into the subject of my next pic.

Very rough drawing stage.  Gonna take the other two swans to the stage of the first, then go back again and get in the details and correct boo-boos.

Richard loves this one because of how the feet are just everywhere on these.

It really was a menagerie that day.  I need to do some more IDs and go all bird nerd on it.  We saw everything from kingfishers to bald eagles.

T'was a menagerie.