Weaning time has come. That dreaded day when an innocent baby is torn from his mother's flanks--shrieking all the way--to begin life as an independent soul.
Well, that's not how things happen at our farm, anyway.
On Friday, September 4--just two days shy of his 3-month birthday, Rocky waltzed right into the nursery, and as the gate clicked behind him, he didn't even look back. I thought I saw a tear in Falcon's eye and her lip quiver slightly, but that was it. No muss, no fuss. I've since let the little Rock Star into the yard with Gus, the yearling mini colt. And, aside from getting his (Rocky's) backside kicked over a bucket of grain, all is well. Mama's contentedly grazing in the pasture, waiting for her turn in the stud pen for another honeymoon. Rocky is contentedly grazing in the yard, napping here and there, whiling away his time with his new buddy, Gus.
I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve such a smooth time with weaning, but I'll take it. Easy breaks are so far and few between on the farm.
Well, that's not how things happen at our farm, anyway.
On Friday, September 4--just two days shy of his 3-month birthday, Rocky waltzed right into the nursery, and as the gate clicked behind him, he didn't even look back. I thought I saw a tear in Falcon's eye and her lip quiver slightly, but that was it. No muss, no fuss. I've since let the little Rock Star into the yard with Gus, the yearling mini colt. And, aside from getting his (Rocky's) backside kicked over a bucket of grain, all is well. Mama's contentedly grazing in the pasture, waiting for her turn in the stud pen for another honeymoon. Rocky is contentedly grazing in the yard, napping here and there, whiling away his time with his new buddy, Gus.
I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve such a smooth time with weaning, but I'll take it. Easy breaks are so far and few between on the farm.
No comments:
Post a Comment