This morning, I received a Facebook message saying “I will come up tomorrow to ride Taktur at 12, if that’s ok.”

So I slowly got up, as is my morning régime, and Daisy kindly went to fetch Taktur for me – he was miles away eating with his friends.

For some reason that Facebook message translated itself in my head as firstly Taktur’s trainer was arriving at 11am and today was tomorrow.

So Daisy and I waited with Taktur for a while. Daisy did some brushing, while I took endless photos of silly things.

She even picked his feet out.  Bless his little cottons, Taktur offered and lifted each hoof as she went round.

We didn’t even bother to tie our ravaging stallion up.

 

I was beginning to become disgruntled at the non-appearance of Taktur’s trainer so I went back inside to check my messages on the computer – this is BeAnne’s disgruntled face, btw.

I returned a few minutes later from the house and admitted rather sheepishly that I had just found that I had got the wrong time and worse, the wrong day completely.  Daisy and Taktur looked at each other, discussed it and diagnosed my slow descent into senile dementia.

Anywho, since I had him, I thought it best to give Taktur his daily grub and the Chicken Wars began.

I hates them pesky birds.  I throw them some corn a little way away and hope they will eat it and forget about Taktur’s food.

But I could see them discussing it and the War began.

I have a new weapon now – BeAnne.  She is good.  If you say “boof the chicken” – she will put her nose up its bottom and chase it away from Taktur’s food.

On a positive, though, at least Taktur will never be frightened of flappy birds.  He is very used to them.

Meanwhile, as it was such a beautiful day, someone was discovered busy sunbathing fatly in the spring sunshine.  Methinks that one wintered well.  How my horses suffer.