Two little donkeys are beside themselves with lust for their pasture.
But they must wait. And wait.
At least until mid-May.
You're heard me say it before; those little lips and teeth can decimate a not-fully-developed pasture faster than you can say "phooey". And they have. So we wait.
Now that the weather has turned toward the side of spring, Gabby has let me know in her inimitable way that she WILL either get to go in the pasture or out into the "compound" (fenced in area surrounding the house) and nibble whatever is available. Rick has chastised me for allowing them free range in the compound since they ate all of the ivy he had cultivated by the house. But, of course, the donkeys turn a deaf ear, particularly Gabs.
Here she was marching between the donkey yard gate and the pasture gate, with a very clear message for me.
Yet those darn chickens get to go into the pasture, she says.
And something is not right about that situation.
So, two donkeys decided to take matters into their control and sashayed into the chicken run.
The hens were not alarmed by this turn of events, but were slightly confused.
And so, as I explained the pasture situation yet again to Gabby, the ears were taking it all in.