Last night, we arrived home in the dark from a Saturday full of old friends, finding our hill a tempest of driving, icy rain and wind.
I went to check the horses in the dark and found them standing in a goose-flight-like V formation, backs to the north wind, wet. I guided them down to the run-in shelter (why does it take me to remind them they have shelter?) and then noticed they were shivering.
|The horses check the blanket box for goodies this morning.|
I'm not a blanketer, being sure that horses make their own defenses with their wonderful hair, but with these early wind chills in the 30s, my herd have not finished growing their winter coats, and shivering horses ain't the way we do things around here.
Out came the waterproof blankets, some of which were still in their original packages, and had been headed for a tack sale. Out came the husband, too, since blanketing five horses in the dark on a cold windy night was definitely a two-person job (he ended up insisting, during this cold, dark and risky activity, that I NOT put the pink blanket on Stormkite, the only male among our horses. Testosterone asserts itself at the oddest times).
|Stormkite, dashing in yellow and green, and DeCato, pretty in pink.|
I slept better knowing the extra layers (and the shelter, which they were staying in or near, now), would carry them through this unseasonably cold night.