Disaster Strikes

I knew as it was happening that it was going to be bad, one of those slow motion train wrecks that you can only stand by and watch. Because of the new small arena construction in the front pasture, our horses were in the back. I had all the stalls readied, but no grain out and the minis were put away. So, I decided to let the horses out to walk up to the barn themselves. We do that all the time from the front pasture and the horses sedately walk to their individual stalls.

Well, this night, Etta balked at crossing the electric wire fence, the first I'd noticed that she was very afraid of it. Normally, she comes out a metal gate, no electric involved. Jorgen and Quid had already crossed past me, where I held the handle of the wire. Etta bolted past me and ran as only an Arabian can when spooked. She took off to the barn, up the driveway. Half-way up, she fell. I could do nothing, but follow. By the time I got to the barn, everyone was in their stalls.

Etta had several abrasions, but one bad four inch impact cut, needing stitches. The vet was called and stapled her together. It's been two days now, and I'm watching for infection, as one edge could not be sewn, missing skin as it was. She's confined now to her stall, and not all that happy about it, although she has the fat minis as company most of the day. I only let them out for about four hours a day. They are what we call "easy keepers", meaning they get fat just looking at grass.

Notes:
I have decided to call the big rooster with black and red feathers "Lester" after his forefathers. Wm is superstitious about naming chickens after previously killed chickens, for fear they'll suffer the same fate. But he's a rooster. And I have two more.

The other rooster I name "Peter" after hearing the story of Peter denying Jesus at Sunday school, and the white silkie rooster shall be Judas, for he betrayed me by being a rooster instead of a hen.