
I love to watch the boys graze, and my favorite sound on earth is when they're chewing on grass that is fresh and still wet from an afternoon shower – it squeaks a little when they rip it with their teeth. Behind the din I can hear the cha-ching cha-ching of the cash register, ringing up all the money I'm saving from not having to feed them hay for the next few months.

This desert rangeland is hardly a thick and lush pasture. There are about six different types of grass they can choose from, and the blue grama appears to be their favorite. The grass grows in clumps among all the other green stuff, and the boys have to work a little to find it. This time of year, they can work a lot less, and I find myself wanting to shout "come up for air!" when I watch them graze. It's a non-stop chewfest.

Here's a fun fact: a horse turned out on pasture 24 hours a day will spend about 17 hours of that time grazing and will walk 8 or 9 miles in the process.

I took these pictures last night as baseline evidence for the boys' growing girths. When their sides begin to bulge out in grass-fed happiness, I will have to restrict their turnout time and they will not be pleased. But for now, we'll all just enjoy our green acres.
















