THIS IS SICK, HICK, FARM CHICK HUMOR. GO AWAY YOUNG CHILDREN.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE ANYWAY?
I made so many photos yesterday, I have barely looked through them all. The morning started off early with the vet coming over to do Grayson’s gelding.
It’s funny. When I called the Social Security office to reschedule an appointment I had made ages ago for yesterday morning, the woman wanted to know my reason for not coming. I told her my pony was scheduled for gelding and his other mom was in New Orleans with her father who is dying. Silence. She asked me a few more things, then asked again, why did I have to reschedule? This time I told her my pony was being CASTRATED. No more repeat questions.
So if you didn’t catch that….yesterday was Grayson’s Castration. And Elizabeth was in New Orleans with her father as he passed peacefully last night.
I am so glad she was there for him, as he was for her.
Several hours after Grayson’s Castration, when I figured he wouldn’t swell up like a basketball, I went to Grayson Highlands State Park to photograph all 18 of the ponies up for auction. I made soooo many photos. There are a lot of pinto ponies with brilliant markings so I tried to get both sides. Some are just pipsqueaks! I knew Elizabeth would want to see the final round-up. She knows many of the grown ponies personally. Tomorrow at 2 pm…that’s their big day…when I hope each and everyone of them finds a good home.
But let’s get on with Photo of the Day, I thought I’d keep it simple.
(So I’m cluttering this up with words instead of photos you ask? Oh Hush!)
While my friend Janice held Grayson’s head during surgery, I was free to shoot. I have a lot of graphic photos that are definitely not appropriate to share. Especially with men. I barely started to describe the procedure when Recluse Man hugged his balls and walked off. What a sight…Mr Macho lover-boy doing the totem-scrotum-shuffle.
Forgive me if you think the same of the following…but the three of us farm chicks in the stall with Grayson, found it hilarious. After the vet clipped the testicles, she tossed them aside. And who was there for a snack??? … my lil Linguini! …
(btw…Elizabeth came up with ‘Linguini & Meatballs’ in a text this morning….good to know her humor is intact even though she is so sad about her dad….come home soon Mama E!)
Yesterday, the Pips’ Mama Elizabeth tromped off the balds of Grayson Highlands State Park in Virginia after three nights of camping, jumped in her Subaru, and headed almost straight for my shower.
I say almost, because I had to feed the girl first…she was nearly see-through…then sit her butt down for a report on the round-up going on at the park.
This Saturday, (September 26 at 2pm), the Wilburn Ridge Pony Association will hold its annual auction of the wild ponies, a tradition that dates back to the 1970’s. The auction is part of the Grayson Highlands Fall Festival, celebrating southwestern Virginia’s mountain heritage.
Right now there are sixteen ponies in the corral. A bait pen is used for catching and holding the ponies before it is decided who will be corralled for the auction and who will be returned to the wild. The idea is to cull the bands by auctioning the young ones, some born only a few months ago, others already yearlings or two year olds. Sometimes the mares will be auctioned with their very young foals, other times they are separated forever, either at the holding pen or in the auction ring.
I was anxious to know whether Marilyn and her foal had been corralled. The first time I met Marilyn, she was packing a big Pistol in her belly. Yet she was as gorgeous and flashy as her namesake. And so photogenic…I couldn’t stop shooting…just like she couldn’t stop posing. There we were… together in this Vanity Fair Mare cover shoot…click-pose-click-pose…Demi Mare naked and pregnant for the cover.
Next visit to the park, I was tickled silly to meet her lil dude. Marilyn the mama…so proud and watchful of her son…yet she seemed to encourage his new celebrity status. She had me pegged as pony paparazzi and Pistol Pete, her starlet.
Elizabeth filled me in then headed back to the park. I tease her about being the Jane Goodall of wild ponies. I know she would correct me by saying…”they are feral ponies.” I think she’s a little feral too. Is it rubbing off? Honestly, I’d rather be called a ‘wild thing’ than a ‘feral thing.’ Stay-tuned for more on the auction and the tale of Pistol Pete.