Kappi is fine and has showed absolutely no sign of his colic.  In fact I never saw anything apart from one very rolled field and mud-covered horse as evidence of this episode.  So he can join the herd again and he is very happy with that decision.  Kappi tolerated solitary confinement with Taktur nearby grudgingly.  Taktur made regular bids for freedom at every opportunity to the point where I found him in the hill late one night, having pushed a gate open and escaped.  He came running when I called him out of a pitch black expanse of hill and I shoved him back into the field.  Silly boy.  Luckily he didn’t go off looking for local trollopery.

Bjørn came over this afternoon to see Kappi and agreed that he was fine.  He rode Taktur in the indoor school – this weather is too revolting to go anywhere.  It was poetry to watch.  I get a lump in my throat when I see them together.  They are a very good team and Taktur enjoys the praise when he has earned it.  He gives 100% to his rider, trying his best to get everything right, never arguing or throwing a nasty.  He is just not that kinda guy.  No bull-fighting turns (Anderwoo’s calling card) or suddenly slamming on the brakes (Indy’s speciality) – just generous to a fault.  Icelandics are like that.  It is Shetland ponies with the wicked sense of humour.

Here are a few photos from the afternoon.  The light was bad, everyone was soggy and feeling rather Sunday afternoon-ish.

We are working on building Taktur up and his feeds have increased in amount as well as being offered hay.  But he hates hay or apples and it is difficult to put the weight on him.  A constant struggle at the moment.  If this is his only fault, Taktur is a fussy bugger.

He is a noble steed (and such a Mummy’s boy).

Today was the turn of the trailer that we managed to break last week.  The beauty of this type of  essential equipment is that it is bolted together like Meccano so hopefully we can take it to bits, order the part we need and fix it ourselves.

Some helped more than others.

With brute force and absolutely no ignorance, we succeeded in getting the nuts and bolts off, dismantling the ramp and taking out the hinge that had sheered off.

This is the offending article.  Now to find it’s replacement on t’internet and order it.  Please God don’t let them screw us for the postage to the Highlands & Islands.

So one job done.  While Jo was playing Meccano, I fed the bebbies their lunch.  I looked at the portions and decided they are now eating about 4 and a 1/2 times more than when they first arrived.

Having a little feel of their spines, I do believe, and so does Jo, that their backbones are less pronounced and there is less pokey out bits to feel now.  That is very gratifying and let’s hope they start to fill out.

This is their little house.  The top door is bolted and they go in and out via the bottom one.

We put their mid-day hay and silage mix in there as the rain was coming and going accompanied by some fairly ferocious wind.

I think they spent their afternoon going in the stable and coming out of the stable, like Eeyore putting his burst balloon in the jar and taking it out again on his birthday.  Hours of entertainment and no one stood at the door like a dragon keeping guard.  They are all good friends on equal terms.

Adorable too.

Colic – I hate it.  It worries me and, like most things equine, there are so many conflicting treatments – walk, don’t walk, feed, starve, etc.

So this morning when I went up to take Taktur out for his feed, I noticed these flat marks all over the field.  My waters churned.

I searched round the herd to see who had caused this.

Haakon was fat and fine with the usual acceptable level of filth.

Iacs was hopeful and of similar hue.

Fakur was being a fuzzy mountain goat.

and Taktur was his usual handsome self.

So all eyes turned to our visitor, Kappi, Bjørn’s Icelandic horse and I felt sick.

He was completely clarted in mud and the rolling patches in the field were everywhere.  He had obviously been busy.

I grabbed him and Taktur and took them over to Thordale.  Taktur had his grub and I put Kappi in the small paddock watching him all the time for more signs of rolling, sweating, discomfort, anything.  He seemed fine, apart from looking disgusting.

I made up a small holed haynet so he couldn’t gorge and only nibble away at it.

I phoned his owner, Bjørn, who was at work and explained what I had done and then I waited and watched.   Still nothing.  Kappi was perfectly happy eating.

I could see from the hoof prints in the paddock that he had walked over to the water and drunk.  I offered him a carrot and he said thank you very much, and he did a lovely medium sized poo (OCD now) with nothing suspicious in it.  Taktur stayed nearby with his hay net too.  I didn’t want anyone stressed by being on their own.

So, I went on watching all afternoon.  Bjørn messaged me to take away Kappi’s haynet, so I did and put Taktur in so they could be together.  They stood and looked miserable together in the muck heap.

Still nothing, no discomfort, no rolling, no sweating, no nothing (not that I wanted him to suffer but it would be good to have my diagnosis confirmed a little).

Bjørn popped by after work this evening and we went out with torches.  He agreed with my opinion and we agreed that whatever it was seemed to have settled on it’s own.  He wormed him (due now) and I gave Kappi his small-holed hay net again, which he was very pleased to see.  I will keep him in the paddock with Taktur about, and carefully monitor him for a few more days.  No poo will go unturned now!

I hate colic.  Oh, the worry.

So, how is everyone else, I hear you ask?  Of course, I have not wittered on recently about Loki, Jack, BeAnne and Wussums.

Well, Loki is fantastic.  From the dog that I seriously wondered whether I had made a grave mistake about, he has turned into a darling and definitely part of the family.  Someone flipped the switch in his head that turned him into one of us which is wonderful.  His recall is almost 100%, he spends his life off a lead including all walks, even the ones on the beach where the bunnies are everywhere in the dunes.  He is the ideal farm dog and travels quietly and well in the car.

Loki wants to join in with everything.  Watching Bjørn riding Taktur was interesting to watch because Loki just went along too.  I think I might try and take him out when I ride out come Summer.  He might like it, especially the galloping at great speed bit.

BeAnne is turning into a rather fat little madame.  She is bored of walks, sits down on strike or  just turns round and goes home the minute she can.  Come the Spring, she can go out with me and Haakon and shift some of that extra winter layer.  She is almost playing with Loki now too, which is encouraging.  Still fluffy though and still my darling, though she had a major sense of humour failure when I came home after my week away, only to stay one night and then away again to hospital for another two.  She was crowned the Captain of the GB Olympic Sulking Team that day.

Jack, Jack, Jack.  When you think he can’t get any slower, he does.  His dog walks are a trial to us all.  He is reluctant and unhelpful at the beginning, threatening and arguing.  We are trying to keep him mobile because if we don’t we are scared he will seize up and never leave his bed again and that will be that.

The coat does help and keeps him warm.  So smart.  A very dapper boy.  He loves it too.

Amina, Bjørn’s German Shepherd, thought he was gorgeous in it and fancied him something rotten.  It was very sweet to see.  Amina has always though Jack was a bit of alright and follows him around whenever she sees him.  Jack always looks very embarrassed at this unwanted female attention.  I don’t even want to think about the puppies!

And Wussums – My little fat boy.

Wuss still hates Loki and we just let them ignore each other.  This is the easiest method and is a working, if precarious, arrangement.  He goes in and out of the house via the Velux window in the roof of our bedroom or through the cat flap if enemy forces are not on patrol.

Anyway, he sleeps with us and I make the time to go upstairs and talk to him so he doesn’t feel lonely or left out of family life.  I also drop roast chicken into his bowl as I go past.

So that is us.   Bet you wish you hadn’t asked now!

Two whole days of blissful sunshine.  Tomorrow is a gale and rain so I popped over to Sandness for some bebbie snogging.

Golly, they are delicious.  I just want to pop them down my jersey and take them all home – they won’t return to Thordale until I know I don’t have to go south again in the near future.  It is not fair to move them backwards and forwards every minute and we’ve broken the trailer ramp so, apart from squishing them into the car, which I am sure they would do perfectly happily, they are not going anywhere until the trailer is mended.

My latest time-wasting is to sit in their field and just take endless photos of them looking exceptionally cute and fluffy.  I have a talent for this.

This is their new stable which is kept open in their field so they can pop in and out as they like.  Jo can also check them more easily and rush over if things don’t add up when she does a head count.

There is a great deal of eating going on all the time.  Ad lib hay as well as mare & foal mix, beet and chaff three times a day.  Their digestive systems are getting back to normal, which is a good sign.  I am still obsessed by their bowels (ever the nurse!)

A typical Thelwell pony photo.

So the fuzzies are doing well.   Endless eating is good and we are doing are very best for them.

Rumour from the shit telephone is that we only rescued these ponies for the publicity and the money.  I sincerely hope those spreading this crap have a rectal prolapse on a sandy beach.  We did it to save their lives.  End of.  That is what we do, have done and will do again.  It is never about the politics, it is about helping dying animals that have no voice.