I check fences, and look for things like wild cherry that might poison them. I also take my chopping tool and whack down any thistles. Once in awhile, the thistles will get ahead of me, and one or two will make blooms. I try and dig them up by the roots, so they won't come back, but I know a few of them still survive. I'm not even sure what kind of thistles they are. They seem to bloom later than the musk thistles and have a much smaller seed head.
As usual I had plenty of 'help' as I inspected the pasture and chopped thistles. The dogs enjoyed sniffing about and checking out the field. Boone waded in the muddy pond (of course since he just got a bath!). I think I picked up a few chiggers, even though I sprayed before hand. At least with the weather moderated, even chopping thistles has a certain satisfaction and peacefulness to it.
(But look how clean and shiny she is!! :-)