The pasture grass has grown another 6 inches since I wrote about it last week.
Make that 6 and a half. No wait...7. Seriously, it's growing faster than I can type.
All this green is equivalent to cash on the ground.
Every day I don't have to feed hay means $11 saved. Cha-ching!
There are more kinds of native grasses out there than I can identify.
I think the primary varieties are buffalograss, blue grama and tufted hairgrass,
but I'll happily stand corrected if any of you plant identification experts tell me I'm wrong.
There's a hole at the bottom of Lucy's grazing muzzle that allows her to eat,
but just a few blades at a time instead of a giant mouthful.
She's maintaining her girlish figure under protest.
I had been removing the muzzle for the overnight hours but decided a few days ago
that it would be best to leave it on full time.
Talk about pissed...
Lucy: What do you mean I have to leave it on all night?
Me: Get a good look at it, Alan. Your day's coming.
Grazing muzzles for George and Alan have been ordered and should arrive this weekend.
Theoretically, if they're both wearing them, they shouldn't be able to rip them off each other's faces,
but something tells me I'll be spending all the money I'm saving on hay on lost grazing muzzles.