My percheron horse Toby finally got what he wanted the other day. After banging and pushing and pulling on the gate that separates the pasture from the now sadly very empty hen yard (curses on the infernal shifty bobcat, the bane of the last few months), he finally got himself in.

Problem was, he couldn't figure out how to get himself out.

So when Dennis went down to feed the horses yesterday morning, he counted four, not five hungry horses. And a 1,850 pound very friendly percheron horse is rather hard to miss. So he called for Toby. And he called again.

And then he heard the hoofs. Hoofbeats drumming from the unlikeliest of places. You know, like the hen house.

He found poor Toby trapped in the chicken pen. Eyes rolling. Ears swiveling. Nostrils quivering. Bottom lip tucked in. Chugging like a steam locomotive up and down the fence. Very scared and lonely and afraid because apparently he'd been in there a good part of the night.

When Dennis opened the gate, the Big Boo careened through almost swinging it shut on his tail, and he never looked back, galloping for a good five minutes thereafter around and around the pasture, just to shake off the nervousness, the draft horse sized heebie jeebies of his predicament.

The gate between the hen yard and the horse pasture is now thorougly, double, and triple fortified against curious Percherons. And you should see those hoofprints he churned up in the dirt.

Mighty big chicken.

Way too big for any bobcat with ideas ...