All The Pretty Little Horses

Choosing a title for this post reminded me of the song, "All The Pretty Little Horses," which I once sang as part of a trio when I was back in Albany. It's a lovely old American lullaby, thought to have originated as a song sung by a mammy to her white master's child while unable to tend to her own baby. I checked YouTube and found a nice version in case you'd like to hear it:


As for my own pretty little horses, they are having a wonderful summer of lush grasses and sleeping among the Buttercups:

 They don't eat the bitter Buttercups, which is why there are so many of them, but at least they make the field look colorful. Remy, in this photo, appears to have chosen a grazing spot with more grass and few Buttercups:

 They each get a half cup of grain each morning if they come to the barn when I do the early chores. If not, I let them wait until the next day. Heaven knows neither one of them is going hungry. Grain time is an opportunity for me to be sure they're used to being handled and to check them for any problems. They have to eat in separate stalls, however, so they don't fight:

 And, just like the cows, they love the shade and back scratching limbs of the Box Elder tree:

 They consider the cows their buddies, and follow them around:

Remy had an itch:

And Blue struck a magnificent pose:

Remy, avoiding the Buttercups and eating the grasses:

The cows were moving to the Box Elder tree and Blue was staying nearby:

So was Remy:

One morning I couldn't find either horses or cattle, so I jumped into my little red car and drove out into the field, all the way to the farthest corner. There I found them just waking up. Remy trotted over to say hello, but then decided to eat the side of my car (last year he took a couple of chunks out of the steering wheel), so I snapped a photo and hightailed it back across the field to the house: