My exercise regimen at the moment is riding three of the Icelandics.

First I rode Iacs because he looked so miserable yesterday when I had promised and then rushed off.   He was very good and tried his best.

Next was Taktur – who has to Power Walk first on buckle-end of the reins to loosen up and then in a relaxed outline for 20 minutes (10 minutes either direction).  We listen to inspiring 80’s disco songs because they have a good up-tempo walking beat.

And then thirdly, Haakon who was on fabulous form and, having warmed up, tölted round and round the school like a demon (if demons tölt!)

Each had about 20-30 minutes and I felt very worthy afterwards.

I’ve also noticed that this last bale of silage is mostly being ignored.  No one is interested in it and the horses need energy.

So I made the executive decision to let the big lads into the next big green field for grazing.  They were very enthusiastic about my choice.

But, as you can see, its’ boundary is the bebbies’ hill park.

Taktur is very fond of the Bebbies…..

…. as they are of him!

Anyway, I have read Taktur the Riot Act, told him to behave or at least to not lose shoes on the fence or weight by fence walking instead of eating.

One hint, just one hint of shoe-losing, fence-destroying, fence-walking, bloody-mindedness, etc and I will either wire up the whole side (Icelandic horse side) to the mains or move the horses over to a field miles away.  Their choice.

Meanwhile, as it is raining (but warm), I gave the Bebbies, who happened to be hanging around their shed, a large pile of carrots that I threw into the straw.  Hunt the Carrot is a great rainy-day game.  Hours of entertainment.

All I could hear was crunch, munch, crunch, snuffle…..!

So here’s hoping.  It would be nice if they could all live side-by-side in peace and harmony (though, tbh, I am not holding my breath).

This afternoon, I looked at my lot (who knows where is Haakon) and said, right your turn.  With that the phone rang and a friend needed the Shetland Foal Milk Service.  He had a colt foal who had not sucked since he was born this morning.

I threw two carrots at Iacs, who was looking dejected, and rushed off with some Foal-Stim (Red Bull for foals) and The National Foaling Bank Emergency Kit to try and help.

We were faced with this beautiful little chap who just could not get the hang of sucking milk from his mother.  He was going downhill quickly, becoming more and more depressed and not trying.  He had not fed since he was born and it was becoming very obvious that the clock was ticking. So we quickly gave him 1/2 a tube of Foal-Stim, milked the mother for her colostrum and fed him all afternoon by bottle as well as trying to get him to suck from his mum.

He seemed to brighten and become less dehydrated but never sucked from his mum.   He passed meconium and urine, which was a very good sign.  Mum was brilliant.  She didn’t mind us massaging her teats to get her to let down or try and get her dim-witted foal to suckle.  She just stood there, trying to help as much as her instinct let her – but this was her first foal so she was no expert and neither, tbh, are we.  It is a huge learning curve.

After a good few hours of this, Mum lay down to sleep – you could see she was exhausted and so was her babe, but in a good way – he had a full stomach thanks to us, so we left them agreeing to re-group a hour and a half later when more expertise would arrive.

At this stage Jo joined in with a smaller teat for the colostrum bottle and we tried again to get the foal to latch on.  No success but he was more alert at really trying at this stage.  Eventually, he did it!  Yay and phew all at the same time.

I hope this miniature Shetland foal is ok because he is seriously cute and now wiffles if he sees me!  Jo says I can’t keep him even though he doesn’t belong to me.

(I think BeAnne weighs more than him and Loki is certainly bigger).)

Please send “sucking” vibes to him and hopefully he will get the hang of this milk thing.

A morning spent brushing the Bebbies (what is the next stage? – I refuse to call them Tweenies as they are yearlings now).

I went into their field armed with my bucket of head collars, ropes, grooming equipment, a hat and a camera.  I have come to the conclusion that is easier to go to them, than to make them come with me to the indoor school.

They liked my bucket of “toys” and so I quickly rescued my camera.

My hat was duly taken away to be investigated thoroughly.

The boys are like children.  They love playing with toys.  This rubber tyre was originally for keeping feed buckets upright – I have long given up that idea.  It makes a splendid thing to be bitten, stood on or in.

So I brushed out lots of winter woolly fur, put it into separate bags and then we had a lovely time in the beautiful Shetland spring sun, all together.  I was randomly taking photos of noses.

I had a great idea to take some “selfies” with my boys.  I am not very good at this and, to be perfectly honest, I think we were all having the same “bad hair day”!  I should’ve thought this through and prepared myself by actually brushing my hair first (ok, and the double chins and I need to do my roots too – depressed muchly!)

BeAnne was not impressed with any of us (read very jealous) but I think it is nice to regularly chat with the bebbies.  They are very tame now.

Apart from waiting for the Shetland pony mares to produce (these are my neighbour’s)….

…. there are little Shetland hill lambs, or “ickle whams” (said with a pathetic voice), everywhere and I mean everywhere.

Lambs go through phases. Teensy tiny on the first day they are born.  The next day, they fill out and are still very sweet.  For the next few weeks, they play together doing the equivalent of the Lamb Grand National (galloping in groups everywhere) as well as boinging around the hill.  You are a tough person if your heart is not melting.

And then, suddenly, overnight, when your back is turned for only 5 minutes, the lambs turn into teenagers and are not quite as cute.  They become lumps who are vile to their mothers demanding milk all the time and head-butting her to get it.  The ewes look tired and bored of their lambs by then.

But, at the moment, everyone is incredibly small, cute and dinky which is why I thought I would quickly take some photos before they turned into lummoxes.

The “ickle wams”tug at my heartstrings this time of year but, having previously had pet orphaned ones, I am not fooled.  I know what they will turn into.  They are not like foals at all.

I love Eurovision.  I refuse to be ashamed of this confession. I have watched almost all of them since time began.  This is one night of the year when you laugh with bewilderment for almost 4 hours – perfect.   I accept it is not everyone’s cup of tea but, when it is on I watch it.  No Matter What or Where.

So this morning I had a bijoux hangover – must’ve been a dirty glass.  Personally I blame the staff.  You just can’t get them these days.  So I slept in until 11am.

Jo messaged me to say she was riding at 14.30 and suddenly my potential Pyjama Day bored me and I wanted to go out too.  I popped over, collected the trailer, threw Haakon and his stuff in it and returned to Sandness.

Fiona had arrived too to ride Hreyfing.

I unloaded Haakon while Jo and Fiona went off to catch their mares.

And then we watched them all turn tail and bugger off up the field.  I did not laugh, I did not. I am not that kind of person.

No, I am not (cough).

So, while they were faffing around trying to catch their horses, I tacked up Haakon.

I have submitted Haakon’s application to GB’s Olympic Eating Team.

More faffing (or tacking up) while I got on and Haakon stuffed his face – much better than having a battle about not eating food while we wait.

And off we went.

We had a lovely time. The views were beautiful and we all enjoyed ourselves.

The wind and the ride blew away my Eurovision hangover and I spent the afternoon trying to convince two “non-believers” that actually it was worth watching and a very good evening’s entertainment.

I am not sure I was very convincing.  Their loss!