It was the perfect day to do it.  So we moved all the Minions and Old Ladies to their summer residence – the hill park in Sandness.

We fed Vitamin and Fivla first and then moved Tiddles, Newt and Silver who were fairly unhelpful to lead.

They galloped off, once they realised where they where they had landed.

Then we drove back and collected Waffle, Storm and Albie who were slightly more enthusiastic.

And then lastly the old ladies – Vitamin and Fivla who were waiting for us looking rather forlorn.  I wish animals could understand that I would never abandon them and that we would be back within the hour.  I did try to explain.

You can see in the far, far distance everyone was waiting by the gate for the ladies.

Lots of shouting from both sides.

It was a good walk for everyone (for Floss and I it was three times).

The boys all crowded around the gate while we opened it.

And the band are back together…. again.  Just splitting them up for a couple of hours for transportation worries them all.  They are a very close herd.  Hopefully the grass is not good enough for anyone to get laminitis.  It is not re-seeded or particularly lush or green. I will go on feeding Vitamin unless she balloons, which I doubt.  This should do them for the summer.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to know.”

“Can I help?”

(Stephen, our farrier, then put Pepper up on Klængur’s back.  Flossie and I held our collective breaths. So of course, Klængur did absolutely nothing.)

Pepper was intrigued.  She stayed around “to help”, following Stephen back and forth to his van.  The horses all ignored her.

Just because it is now spring doesn’t mean I have less to do.

The old ladies are still fed, watered with eyes cleaned and mouths washed out. I throw carrots at the furious (but slimmer) Minions.

I need to bring a brush along some time and give everyone a good going over.  I prefer the natural approach as it means their winter fur fall out when it are ready to go, which is plain English for they all look incredibly scruffy and need a proper brush!

And then I rode my horse.  Yesterday was a blip and today Dreki seemed better.  We are now just off the lead-rein, though Floss has to be in the arena for direction if required.

I love riding Dreki.  He feels “right”, if that makes sense – strong, happy and does his very best.

It is like having a black version of Haakon, but younger and much greener.  I backed and trained Haakon many years back so I remember the feeling.

Steering is coming, our brakes are good and every day we get a little bit better at this going around the school on the track listening to commands.  One day we might even break out of walk!  Who knows.

Daisy gave me some very helpful training tips last weekend, one of which was “Do not get on unless you have everything right on the ground”.

Today I was going to ride Dreki but he came in on his tippy-toes and so I made the executive decision not to.  I am a great believer in setting ourselves up to succeed.

We did long-reining instead.

We worked on steering and stop and go commands.

Dreki was an arse to start with and I was relieved I hadn’t ridden him but after a few circuits, he remembered what to do.

Our steering had a few “moments” and failures but I was overall pleased by the end of the session.

And here is a sight you don’t often see – me running. I had Dreki trotting down the long sides and coming back to walk with a nice calm transition.

He was excellent at that.  So like his Dad.  No pulling.

And afterwards, we nailed halt beautifully.

Then we did it all again on the other rein.

Floss was with me on camera and, after the long-reining, I ran Dreki around the school because I wanted to see if we could capture any tölt.  I am not sure.  I have slowed the film right down at the point where I think I see a step or two.  I think so……. but he does have a lovely trot.  Just like his Dad.

Mother and Son – Harrel and Maggie

One large Madge (it’s all wool, you know).

No, it is, honestly.

Edna looking like Queen Elizabeth I in her later years.

A friend of mine always says sheep look like woolly maggots. She will know who she is when she reads this and I do agree with her. 

Here we have the little known Harrel-theBarrel maggot!

I was sitting down and Lambie just grinned at me the whole time, smouldering with charm and good looks (or we was he a bit hot in the spring heat and full fleece?) and there was a waft of wee.

Edna and ‘Bert.

‘Ster on a mission.

The beautiful, and now very tame, Maggie who was my best friend while I sat down wondering if I was getting a wet bum or was it just the cold ground.  I had a wet bum when I stood up. In my defense it rained first thing this morning.

Harrel all growed up.

He is a year old now (May the 4th be with you – https://myshetland.co.uk/24-hours/)

Harrel is well named and yes, I missed his birthday but we all know he would’ve eaten the grapefruit hedgehog including the sticks and the grapefruit and wanted to win all the prizes in the games after tea rather than letting his guests win.  He has no manners.