Friday March 5th
The trees bend and sway as the wind once again whips across the property from the north. I'm glad the horses have a well-built run-in shed they can use as shelter (though as of yet, they haven't bothered).
I put Maggie outside first, and amazingly, instead of waddling over to the piles of hay, and hoovering her way through as much as she can before Murray arrives to chase her away, she waits by the fence, her long black mane rippling in the wind.
Inside the barn, her "personal-trainer" whinnies in anticipation and loneliness. He prances as I lead him outside. But when his anxious eyes meet Maggie's flirtatious lashes, he relaxes and walks quietly. She follows alongside from the other side of the fence. It seems that love is in the air.
Maggie waits patiently for her prince to arrive. Of course, the moment I let Murray lose, he turns on her, flashing his teeth, pinning his ears, and forcing her ahead of him down the hill. He chases her once around the pasture at a trot, then he manoeuvres her into a corner so that he can have a relaxing roll in a pile of snow, while still keeping an eye on her.
Maggie, however, isn't completely complacent. Just as Murray's wobbly knees fold to lower his bony frame to the ground, Maggie squeals and bolts up the hill as fast as her short legs can carry her. Murray, frightened, and convinced that banshees are chasing them both, jumps to his feet and charges up the hill after her, sure that some kind of monster is close on his heels. I'm sure that Maggie is laughing at her own little prank.
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