This week's prompts: Starts with O, A Favorite, and One.
Starts with O: OLD starts with O. I've been taking pictures of this old house since we moved to OKLAHOMA. I don't think it will last through another storm. OH, and look! Horses! :)
Favorite: We enjoy going to the races, especially in Hot Springs, AR. It's always exciting when my dollar bet is about to win. 
HAPPY WEEKEND!
Linking to The Weekend Roundup
This week's assignment: Starts with H, Favorite, and Hot.
Starts with H: My love of HORSES is well known and since HORSE begins with H, I'm expected to post pictures of HORSES. Right? Surprise! Here's a ruby-throated HUMMINGBIRD. 
Favorite: This is Bonnie, a.k.a. Beautiful Bonnie, one of my favorite HORSES. 
Hot: We have been experiencing a lot of HOT weather lately, so Bonnie and Reba decided to go for a swim. HOT HORSES enjoy rolling in the pond.
Linking to The Weekend Roundup
This week's assignment: Starts with G, Favorite, and Great.
Starts with G: GUITAR starts with G, even odd GUITARS made from old license plates.
Favorite: Meet Cinnamon. He is a GRULLA or GRULLO, also
called blue dun, GRAY dun or mouse dun. GRULLA is a color of horses in the dun
family, characterized by tan-GRAY or mouse-colored hairs on the body.
Great: This is a five-generation picture. On the bottom left is my GREAT-GRANDMOTHER and on the bottom right is my GRANDMOTHER. On the back row is an aunt and a first cousin. In the middle is my second cousin. Love these old pics.
Linking to The Weekend Roundup
This week's assignment is Starts with F, Favorite, and Fresh.
Starts with F: FLOWERS start with F. This is a variety of ditch FLOWERS I saw during one of our backroad rambles. 
Favorite: Mama left her FOAL alone when the rancher poured FOOD into the trough. She kept a close eye on him though. 
Fresh: This is my tall grandson picking peaches from the tree in the backyard. FRESH FRUIT. Yum!
Linking to The Weekend Roundup
This week's assignment: Starts with E, Favorite, and Early.
Starts with E: I'm sure I've posted this picture before, but it's my all-time favorite EAGLE pic!
Favorite: Shock! No horse today. Instead I'm posting a picture of a mule named Eddie. He's quite a handsome fella.
Early: EARLY morning on the farm.
Linking to The Weekend Roundup
This week's assignment: Starts with D, Favorite, and Dark.
Starts with D: White-winged DOVES. I couldn't believe they posed for this shot. One of my favorite accidents. They always make me think of Stevie Nicks song, "Edge of Seventeen".
Favorite: How about another shot of Sunnie? She's a lineback DUN.
Linking to The Weekend Roundup
This week's assignment: Starts with C, Favorite, and Candy.
Starts with C: COLT starts with C. This is a lineback dun. Isn't he cute?
Favorite: This is Sunnie, also a lineback dun. Right now she is staying on another ranch with her boyfriend. Hopefully by next summer there will be a little filly or COLT running around the pasture. She has a C brand on her hip.
Candy: Yum! These are homemade CANDY Easter eggs from last year. 
Linking to The Weekend Roundup
This week's assignment: Starts with B, Favorite, and Big.
Starts with B: It's a BIRD and it's BLUE, but it isn't a BLUEBIRD. It's an Indigo BUNTING. 
Favorite: Meet BUCKEY. He is a grulla dun horse. Very nice, but very BIG ...
Big: Buckeye is almost as BIG as Sunnie. 
Linking to The Weekend Roundup
This week's assignment: Starts with A, Favorite, and Along.
Starts with A: ARMADILLO starts with A. I don't mind having them around, even though they dig little snout-sized holes all over the yard. They like to eat grub worms.
Favorite: ACTION shot of Sunnie. After a dip in the pond the horses like to roll on the ground to coat themselves in dirt. It helps keep the flies away. 
Along: When the babies are scared, they stick close and follow ALONG with mama. 
Linking to The Weekend Roundup
If he isn't wading along the water's edge catching fish, this blue heron enjoys hanging out in a dead tree by the pond. When he's along the shore and sees me come out of the house, he flies. When he's in the dead tree, he doesn't fly. I believe he thinks he's incognito.
Sunnie
As the sun cast its golden rays upon the sprawling pasture, a magnificent horse named Sunnie frolicked freely. The gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers. With each step, the soft blades of grass tickled her hooves.
Sunnie was a creature of grace and elegance, known for her strength and beauty. But today, she had a mischievous glint in her deep brown eyes. With a playful toss of her head, she trotted to the center of the meadow, where the grass stood tall and lush.
She knew this moment was her chance to embrace pure
bliss. With a sudden surge of energy, Sunnie ran in circles, her hooves
pounding against the earth in a joyous rhythm. Faster and faster she went, her
mane flowing behind her like a fiery stream.
Then, without warning, Sunnie abruptly stopped. With a
sly smirk on her face, she lowered herself onto the inviting green carpet.
Gently, she rolled onto her back, exposing her belly to the sky. Her powerful
legs kicked up, stirring the grass and creating a flurry of green confetti.
The meadow seemed to hold its breath as Sunnie continued
her ritual. She relished the sensation of the earth beneath her and the warmth
of the sun on her coat. Closing her eyes, she surrendered to the simple
pleasure of indulging in her own freedom.
Sunnie rolled from side to side, her movements filled
with grace and abandon. She didn’t care about the dirt that clung to her
once-pristine coat or the disarray of her flowing mane. In this moment, she was
a wild spirit, a creature of the earth, connected to the primal joy that nature
offered.
Satiated and content, Sunnie rose from the grass. She
shook herself vigorously, sending droplets of dew flying through the air. With
a regal stance, she gazed upon the meadow—her kingdom.
As the sun set, Sunnie walked toward the loafing shed
with a renewed spirit. The delight she felt while rolling in the grass left an
echo of freedom etched in the pasture’s soil. Her world continued to turn,
carrying with it the tale of Sunnie, the horse who knew how to cherish the
simple joys in life.
Linking to Saturday Critters
This weeks assignment: A word with a Z in it, Favorite, and looks like Z
Word with a Z in it: This is an action shot of two BUZZARDS fighting.
Favorite: I couldn't come up with a Z horse, but this is a favorite photo of mine. 
Looks like a Z: I couldn't find anything that looks like a Z, so taking liberties here. How about a ZANY cat. This guy happened to be on the window of a store. Okay, one of the many dispensaries I drive by on my way to the grocery store. I thought he was cute, so couldn't resist snapping his picture.
Linking to The Weekend Roundup
This week's assignment: Starts with Y, Favorite, and Yard.
Starts with Y: My mother taught me to crochet at a young age, but I haven't picked up a hook in a long time. Of course, the anticipation of a great granddaughter changed that. It took until after her birth for me to finish it, but it was all packaged up for the baby shower. Loved the purple YARN.
Favorite: It's a horse, of course! This is one I saw during a backroad ramble. Loved the dark stormy sky and the YELLOW flowers.
Yard: We visited a friend of Don's in Texas. He loves peacocks and has several roaming around in his YARD.
All the forest creatures knew Rosco as the most mischievous squirrel in the woods. One morning, as he scurried along the fence separating the woods from Farmer Harvey’s yard, he put on the brakes and stood up on his hind legs. His nose frantically wiggled back and forth, sniffing the air. The aroma of fresh seeds and nuts filled his nostrils.
Concentrating on lunch, Rosco set his sights on a bird feeder attached to a post on the side of the farmer’s carport. Harvey had filled it with a treasure trove of delectable delights—all the squirrel’s favorites. With his eyes on the prize, he failed to notice a guard watching him from the roof. Red, the mighty woodpecker, glared down from his perch.
When Rosco looked up, he saw the dreaded woodpecker and
promptly slid to a stop behind a rosebush. From his hiding place, he observed Red’s
routine. Determined to satisfy his ravenous appetite, Rosco concocted a daring
plan.
When the guard took a break, with nimble paws and saliva
dripping down his chin, Rosco made his way up the post. With one swift
movement, he pried open the lid and plunged his tiny paws inside.
A flurry of wings caught him off guard. Red returned in
time to see the squirrel pilfering the bird’s food. Furious, the woodpecker
swooped down and attacked Rosco’s tail with his sharp beak. Startled and in
pain, Rosco leaped from the post and scurried away.
That day, Rosco learned a lesson. The farmer hung the
feeder for birds, not squirrels. By taking food without permission, he would
have been guilty of theft, and he didn’t want to be a thief.
Rosco scampered off in search of a snack and a trick to
play on some unsuspecting critter. As he ventured deeper into the forest, he
stumbled upon a majestic pecan tree near Rancher Willie’s pond, its branches heavy
with plump, irresistible nuts.
About to climb the tree, he remembered the lesson he
learned from his encounter with Red and the birdfeeder. Taking something
without permission is wrong, no matter how tempting.
Instead of eating his fill, Rosco played a different
game. He devised a plan to gather the pecans and leave them as a surprise gift
for his forest friends. With nimble paws and a heart filled with joy, he
collected the pecans one by one and carefully arranged them in little piles
near the tree.
Noticing Rosco’s unusual behavior, all the forest
creatures gathered around to watch. They couldn’t believe their eyes—the
mischievous squirrel had turned into a thoughtful and generous friend. As Rosco
arranged the last pile of pecans, the birds chirped their approval, while the
squirrels chattered with delight.
From that day forward, Rosco became a symbol of
transformation and the embodiment of the forest’s newfound spirit of
togetherness. He spent his days exploring the woods, not for mischief, but to
lend a helping paw and bring joy to his fellow creatures.
***Side note: I believe Rosco wrote this story to make himself look good. He came back when we weren't looking and ate the suet put out for the woodpeckers.
As the morning sun painted the sky in hues of gold, a serene pond lay nestled within a grove of trees. Native grass swayed gently, its reflection shimmering on the water’s surface. Along the shore, a patient blue heron stood motionless, its piercing eyes fixed on a lone fish gliding through the shallows.
With each step, the heron’s long legs moved gracefully,
making nary a sound. Its sapphire feathers blended seamlessly with the tranquil
water. The heron knew the art of stillness, understanding its greatest ally is patience.
The fish, unaware of its stalker, danced in the morning light,
gracefully weaving back-and-forth in the shallows. Its silver scales glistened,
allowing a glimpse of nature’s perfection. The heron’s heart raced with
anticipation as it inched closer, its slender neck stretching forward, ready to
strike.
Time seemed to hold its breath as the heron reached
striking distance. With lightning speed, it plunged its dagger-like beak into
the water, aiming for the elusive fish. But the pond, too, had its secrets, and
the fish, sensing the danger, darted away in a flash.
The heron’s beak met only the cool touch of water,
leaving behind a ripple that spread across the pond. Undeterred, the heron
gracefully retreated, regaining its composure. It understood the ebb and flow
of the hunt, the delicate balance of success and failure.
With renewed determination, the heron resumed its vigil
along the shore. Its keen eyes surveyed the waters, searching for another
opportunity. The heron will continue to execute this never-ending dance with
the fish—performing a concert in the eternal embrace of nature’s tapestry.
Happy Wednesday
Linking to Wild Bird Wednesday
Mustangs are free-roaming horses of the western United States, descended from horses brought to the Americas by the Spanish. They are often referred to as wild horses, but because they are descended from once-domesticated animals, they are actually feral horses. The free-roaming horse population is managed and protected by the U.S. Bureau of Land Management (BLM). To manage their population, the BLM will round up excess mustangs and offer them for adoption by private individuals.
There is a ranch we sometimes pass with a large population of mustangs. Usually, they are scattered far away from the highway, but on this day a few were near the fence. 
This week's assignment: Starts with W, favorite, and water.
Starts with W: WINDOW starts with W. This one is in the dining room of the house where President Eisenhower's was born.
Favorite: Horses are always my favorite. Our WET welcoming committee as we came home from an early dinner. 
Water: These cows were enjoying a 90° day at the pool.
Linking to The Weekend Roundup
Bonnie's getting new shoes. She is a gentle horse and allows the farrier to pick up and work on each hoof without complaint. Others are not as cooperative.
A farrier is a specialist in equine hoof care, including the trimming and balancing of horses' hooves and the placing of shoes when necessary.
