The one on the right is just fooling. No grass yet.
It was all forest once, in the whole country, at least by the water. Even here in Hvalfjörður, it was trees. But the trees were cleared to make pastures and to keep the Icelanders warm, and then there were no trees, and so it remains in most of the country. Because of this history…,
… horses are now trees. Stick a pale of hay in the middle of a forest clearcut 1000 years ago, and there you have it, a grove. As I’ve said. before, in this country everyone is an artist.
Icelandic horses came over with the first settlers. They know a thing or two. Here in Eiðar, you can see the technique for getting at the good stuff: you can strrrrrrretch that border, but you never, technically, really, for honest and for true, cross the line.
Also in Eiðar, you can see just how flexible this rule is below. The Icelander on the left has one hoof back behind the line, and the one on the right has the line running right down his midline.
Sometimes they go where you want, but you can only walk. A path would be better.
Sometimes, no road will get you where you want to go.
Let’s face it, you need a better body. For that, Iceland has a solution.
The grass hump wading horses of Hofstaðir!
They know the way. Look at them avoiding that road! That’s the way.
Here in Grundarfjörður, a horse trailer and a boat are both parked together in the harbour on an Autumn day. Fish and horses, eh. That’s the Icelandic way.