Week 12, Day 6 (You're never alone)

As ever, when I launch into a funny anecdote, it means 'situation normal, nothing to report baby-wise'. But you knew that already, right?

When we first moved out here, there wasn't a lot on the property besides too many macrocarpa saplings, a relocated unfinished house, and a well. The whole farm was one big paddock. One of the things we loved best about this property was its isolation. Quiet shingle road, very few neighbours, and only occasional traffic. Keep that thought in mind...

Wayne's uncle kindly allowed him to cut sticks from his poplar shelter belt, and we prepared then tied them into bundles, and sat them in the water race to bud and develop roots. Poplars are beaut like that - makes me wonder why people insist on buying them when they can grow their own so cheaply! Btw, it goes double for willows as well.

Anyway, scroll forward about a year, and the first of the fences were in and the young poplar trees were planted along the fencelines, about a metre or so out to protect them from the horses. We also put electric outriggers on the fenceline to further discourage unwanted pruning, but some horses can stretch their necks about a mile if they think they can get a juicy mouthful as a reward.

On one steamy summer day, we were working outside and I happened to notice Hudson was straining over the fence and gleefully ripping whole tops off the sapling poplars. I yelled at him, waved my arms, and generally did my best from a distance to spook him away from the trees. Normally quite a nervy horse, for once he was oblivious to scary behaviour. I guess those young shoots must have tasted too good to pass up.

Nothing for it - I whisked off my bright red tee-shirt and whooped it around in the air like a lassoo, and ran toward him screaming "Hiiiiii hiiiiii you rotten *$%&^# horse, leave those #&$#*% trees alone!" I had to run some distance, resembling a cross between a demented banshee and a drunken cowboy before Hudson pulled up short, snorted, then farted and bucked his way down the paddock in mock alarm.

Simultaneous to his departure, I became aware of another explosion of noise and fright on the nearby roadside, just on the other side of the trees. I glanced up in time to see a horse and rider, with the horse desperately intent on bolting and the rider only just managing to keep control. As a horse-nut, I know the cardinal sin is to cause danger to a horse or rider, and a freaked out horse is almost impossible to handle. Oh shite... what had I done!

The horse won the battle, and turned and raced off down the road. The rider got it under control quite quickly and turned him around to attempt to pass by our farm again. By this time I'd put my shirt back on, and made my way through the trees to apologise to the rider and horse.

Imagine my increased embarrassment to discover the rider was none other than the youngest, yummiest of the brothers next door, on a horse he'd just broken in and was on it's first road outing.

Feeling even more of an idiot I stammered out an explanation and apology, whereby the rider (even more scarlet in the face than I) tersely replied "That's all right. He has to get used to all sorts of strange sights and people." Ohh.. so he'd noticed me flashing him as well?

Dying of mortification, I returned to find Hudson had resumed his tree quest, and Wayne was in helpless giggles on the back lawn.

Is it a fundamental rule of the universe that "One shalt not make a fool of oneself without an audience"??