After a three day winter gale last week left us nearly expired from exposure (even in the run-in), the weather has turned somewhat milder. Unfortunately, that three days was crucial to our comfort in more than one way.
When the weather outside is frightful, Herself takes a small degree of pity on us and puts our hay in three piles on the mats in the run-in. What happens then is that Doc decides Molly's pile is somehow superior and chases her away, she chases Jack and self away from our pile and we move on to Doc's, whereupon the whole process begins anew. This causes the hay to be lavishly strewn throughout the entire run-in. Once this happens, we four equids find it quite unpalatable - what with the foot odour, mud particles and other debris now mixed in with our meal. We then begin a chorus at the barn door which goes something like, "Woman, we need more food, this tastes funny, fresh hay please, we need it right now, did we mention this tastes funny etc.".
The outcome was inevitable, I suppose... One day she glared at us and said, "I know how to stop this nonsense." Oh? Starvation is now nonsense? Anyway, back she came with the male human, each of them carting these strange black metal barred affairs. They proceeded, with our close supervision, to fasten these things to the walls of the run-in. The contraptions looked quite artistic and we admired them in detail. Then...oh moment of horror. Cackling in a crazed fashion, Herself began inserting our hay in there. Yes! These odious objects are hay dispensers!
We hate the blasted things. In fact, we boycotted them until we were faint from hunger - at least fifteen minutes, if not longer. We stamped and called to her but her heart remained stony cold. Doc then tried to wrench the things from the walls but to no avail.
So dear readers, that is the sorry state of affairs at our place. We are forced to pull one meagre mouthful of hay at a time from between the prison bars. Can you believe it? At this time of celebration and festive feasting, we are relegated to working like slaves for our pittance. She bought us one of those huge striped peppermint canes as a peace offering and smashed it up, mixing it into our hot meal. Tasty, but not enough to make amends for putting our hay in wall prisons.