Caught in the act

 It's yucca-blooming time in the southwest.

The flowers are large and sturdy, yet surprisingly short-lived.

 Because pronghorn. They strip the stalks clean.

Busted.

Saturday encore ~ The precocious prodigal son returns

This post is from July 28, 2014, when the pasture was brown and fly masks and grazing muzzles

weren't necessary. What a difference a year and a bunch of rain makes. 

***

It was a particularly lazy Sunday afternoon. Lucy and I had returned home from a long ride, 

it was very hot, and all I wanted to do was nothing.

 My idea of nothing is listening to a book, in the shade, in the company of animals.

 

 Animals don't understand the concept of nothing.

 Anyway, after trying to do a lot of nothing, it was time to go back to the house. 

 And who should be waiting for me but Junior, the little bugger...

just when I was getting used to the idea that he had run away from home and might never return.
I'd like to think he had missed us, but maybe he's just into the whole internet celebrity thing.
Hard to say with a wild child.

He turned around to look at something – I thought for sure Daddy or Auntie must be nearby, but no.

 He was by himself...

...strolling through as if he owned the place. 

Views from the garden

 

A welcome distraction

 It was around 9 o'clock Sunday morning. Hank and his posse had finished their breakfast

and were headed out to the back 40 to munch on dead grass until lunchtime.

 Hank may be older and slower, but he can still keep the herd in line...

 ...most of the time. George and Alan are easily distracted.

 The distraction moved off, and they fell back in line to resume the procession.

Here is the distraction. He has been hanging out with us for the past week.

Maybe he's Junior, maybe he's not. Of course I like to think he is.

 George, Alan, and Lucy headed straight for him, but he ran off when we got too close.

 Pronghorn are an endless fascination for some of us,

 For others?

Not so much.

Down the road with Smooch ~ October 2014

 It's official – the grass this year is taller than Smooch.

 Walking around the fenceline is challenging. The path has all but disappeared.

 We tread lightly, always on the lookout for snakes...

 ...or whatever else might be hiding in the grass...

 ...like a couple of masked banditos.

I find walking to be very relaxing. Smooch, not so much.

 She's the designated pathfinder, another job that she takes much too seriously.

 Junior!

Maybe, maybe not. We were too far away to be certain.

Then we ran into a cow.

 Smooch is so over cows.

Then we found an entire bird wing in the middle of the road.

Most of our walks aren't nearly as interesting. I was glad to have brought along the camera.

Up with the chickens

 Most days, I get outside to do chores just as the sun is coming up.

You might say I get up with the chickens.

 So does Johnny.

This time of year, the equines don't have to wake up because they never go to bed.

They stay out in the pasture all night long.

Here we all are, heading back to the barn.

It's supposed to rain this week. Good thing.

 If there's a fork in the road, take it.

George, Alan and Lucy headed left, toward Junior's water tub; Hank veered right, toward the barn.

 Nice face, Lucy.

Hank, you handsome hunk of love...you're the most majestic horse in the west...

 ...until you're not.

He must have had an itchy head.

The morning parade to the barn concluded with Lucy chasing Johnny over the fence.

***

The Daily Pronghorn ~ Monday, July 28, Noon:

He's still here and still willing to stop and chat.