hunterseat df: Hunter Seat Equitation is a division that is judged on the ability and the style of the rider. The riders can be judged both over fences and on the flat.
Although true, hunters DO eat, at least the skilled ones do, my name derives from the world of horses.
And because the word hunter is in my name, people automatically think I'm a guy. Not even close.
Whenever I meet someone named Hunter I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying "That's my name, too!"
Although true, hunters DO eat, at least the skilled ones do, my name derives from the world of horses.
And because the word hunter is in my name, people automatically think I'm a guy. Not even close.
Whenever I meet someone named Hunter I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying "That's my name, too!"
Dusk at the Homestead
Posted 06-29-2022 at 07:35 PM by hunterseat
The light is fading fast. Still light enough to see the place but dark enough for the lightning bugs to make their presence known.
A friend asked me if I had set up bird feeders to bird watch.
These are wild and wonderful birds. I watch them all the time without having to set out food. They're everywhere. Red ones, blue ones, yellow ones. Ornery mockingbirds that live up to their names as they peck at the apples in the ancient tree. Owls asking "who cooks for you", though I don't see these. I saw a large woodpecker fly overhead which was a thrill, and I hear them frequently. A large shadowy bird had me panicked for the safety of my bright white, 11 pound dog but it was a buzzard.
The birds are glorious here. My desert dogs sit and listen for long periods of time. They're heads swivel from one lush green hillside to the next. Watching. Listening. What a treat to their highly tuned senses. As if a hundred squeaky toys were singing throughout the forest.
But now it's dusk. It's growing quiet. I pause at the door to listen to the uncanny stillness. Wow. What a difference. Still the occasional call as I imaging matrons calling the teenagers home when the streetlights come on. But there are no streetlights. There is only dusk. We will all rise in the morning to sing again, Lord willing.
A friend asked me if I had set up bird feeders to bird watch.
These are wild and wonderful birds. I watch them all the time without having to set out food. They're everywhere. Red ones, blue ones, yellow ones. Ornery mockingbirds that live up to their names as they peck at the apples in the ancient tree. Owls asking "who cooks for you", though I don't see these. I saw a large woodpecker fly overhead which was a thrill, and I hear them frequently. A large shadowy bird had me panicked for the safety of my bright white, 11 pound dog but it was a buzzard. The birds are glorious here. My desert dogs sit and listen for long periods of time. They're heads swivel from one lush green hillside to the next. Watching. Listening. What a treat to their highly tuned senses. As if a hundred squeaky toys were singing throughout the forest.
But now it's dusk. It's growing quiet. I pause at the door to listen to the uncanny stillness. Wow. What a difference. Still the occasional call as I imaging matrons calling the teenagers home when the streetlights come on. But there are no streetlights. There is only dusk. We will all rise in the morning to sing again, Lord willing.
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Comments
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Nothing like pausing and listening to birds any place you can be out there. And especially near lots of trees.
Posted 07-07-2022 at 03:34 PM by malfunction
