Horses and angels
Last night the moon was full and bright when I drove out to feed Panache. As I drove down the narrow farm lane, I noticed none of the horses were at the round bale in the front 10 acre lot. Then I noticed a pickup coming towards me. For the next eternity we played "No, No - you first - PLEASE" as we scurried to the wide spots and beckoned to the other with flashing high beams to please get the H*LL out of my way. Wheew!
But there were no horses at the back 40 acre lot either. I whistled just loud enough to be heard there and not at the front where another little game of hide and seek would be played wherein I would call and leave for the front as he ambled to the back; me to back and whistle, he to front. AAAUUUGGGH! Finally, I walked all over the lots - no horses ...
then it came to me: on bright moonlight nights they become angels. They are the rustle of the leaves, sigh of wind, murmur of brook. Still, I wouldn't want to be under Charlie Clydesdale when he "returns"<g>.
Have Fun!
Bob Griffith and Panache - don't need grain when I'm light as air