Amazing graze

When I walked outside yesterday morning, Lucy and the boys were not waiting for me in the barn 

for the first time this year. I hate it when that happens. I can't start my day until I know

all are safe and accounted for, so I headed out to find them.

I suppose I can't blame them for not coming home.

Why walk all that way for some year-old hay when they can gorge on the all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet?

Little does Lucy know that she's a few bites away from having to wear a grazing muzzle.

We've reached that summer sweet spot where I've gone from feeding
an entire bale of hay per day to one measly flake,

as in one handful each at breakast time just so they have a reason to come back to the barn in the morning.

Obviously that's not worth their time or effort.

George: Did you bring out our fly masks?

Me: No. I don't do room service.

 Hank: Come on, let's head for home. I need some water anyway, 

and that's the only way we'll get rid of her so we can get back to eating.

Hank: Please tell me they're following me. I'd be so embarrassed if they weren't.