Relative Something

’Tis the season of flying tufts of horse hair. It gets a little complicated when their heavy shedding coincides with their days confined to the massively muddy paddocks. The tufts don’t fly as much when they are caked in layers of mud.

Cyndie spent a little time yesterday brushing all four horses for as much as the mares would allow. Each horse has a different level of acceptance for being brushed.

I watched Cyndie try to win over Light with offers of treat bites with varying degrees of success. It got me laughing to see Cyndie trying to multitask brushing Light’s hindquarters with one hand while fending off Light’s face with her other hand. Light kept turning back to beg for another treat.

It is no small thing to fend off an insistent Light where treats are involved.

I leaned over Light’s back and snapped a close-up of the layers of hair.

We both knew that freshly brushed horses rarely stay clean for very long. By the time we returned to the barn to feed them in the afternoon, Cyndie reported they had all taken a roll in the mud.

Thus begins the cycle that will repeat multiple times in the days and weeks ahead.

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