Whiskey is looking pregnant these days. I was out at the farm, in my town boots trying to convince her to come visit with me. But alas, she decided she should remain on the straw pile rather than stomp through the mucky goodness that is an Alberta barnyard in the spring. She is shedding copious amounts of hair. It cracked me up how short she looks in this picture. (She stands a comfortable 15.3 - 16 hh.) I'll have to measure her properly one day.
When I stand and watch, I wonder. I wonder if it'll be a boy or a girl. I wonder when she'll foal. I wonder what color the baby will be. I wonder if I'll fall in love and keep it. Honey and I've talked about it. Me keeping it. If it's a filly, and I can find someone to play with it the next year or so, I'll keep it. If it's a colt I'll work at finding him the perfect home.
I'm impatient. I want the baby, hooves on the ground. Now.