Daisy and the feed room riot
a herd of drama queens finds grain
Often times, dear reader, I’ve heard athletes referred to as ‘a horse’.
I’d like to file an objection from the barn.
Again, at the barn, things have been as one would expect with a lot of large animals around: Chaotic.
The chief agent of chaos has been Daisy - the cow.
Daisy likes to scratch on fence posts.
And fenceposts?
Well, as Daisy has grown fat on hay and alfalfa pellets, the fence posts haven’t been into it.
They’re not body shaming her for her growth.
Instead?
They’ve been folding like cheap lawn chairs at an outdoor concert under her mighty scritching.
Recently, Daisy’s scratching caused a mid night prison break and an all you can eat hoof party in the feed room.
All of the horses followed descending upon the feed bags like… like a…
Like a herd of wild horses freed from their paddocks having found mana from heaven.
Senior feed. Foal feed. Performance feed.
Their eyes must have sparkled at their good fortune.
Our golden palomino narced out his friends. He was caught with a fifty pound bag of alfalfa in his mouth shaking it back and forth, flailing like a drunken windmill. He wasn’t trying to narc. He was just so loud and obvious about it that he likely woke up the mice sleeping three counties over.
When approached, he dropped the feed bag then pranced off into the night.
Daisy was a different story.
Daisy found grain. Daisy would not yield the bag she was chewing through.
Well…
She would not yield until the barn owner decided to play the most dastardly of human tricks.
She threw her hands above her head making herself instantly bigger.
I can just imagine what Daisy was thinking ‘what twisted magic is this? One moment, it was lady. Next? Samsquanch’
Daisy panicked and chundered away with the feed in her mouth, tripping on electric fence, splintered posts and a rats nest of half chewed feed bags as she went.
You can’t hurt a cow, you know. Their skin is so thick and they’re just so damn durable. There’d be mornings when I worked on a dairy farm, we’d have to fish out six or seven from the manure lagoon each day. We’d hose them down then off they’d go. No problem. Cows are chill.
I know the idea of a half dozen Jerseys going swimming in shit seems a bit insane. It is. And that’s cows for ya.
Contrast that with horses.
Horses are just so dramatic. They get the tiniest little scratch and they bleed like a slasher movie. Or, they just do stupid shit to try to kill themselves. If we had a manure lagoon, my horses would definitely go and drown in it.
The point is simple, dear reader: cows are thick-skinned wrecking balls.
They break fences. They survive stupidity. They keep chewing.
Horses? Beautiful, emotional glass sculptures on stilts.
Leave the cattle to chew their cud and lead.
Go find a pretty horse to take out for an exciting ride.
Stay stinky, you fools!