Not a bad day for riding so Daisy and I decided to ride out, twice.

First up, for me, was Klængur, a small-ish ginger ninja who enjoys a good fast tölt.

Daisy rode her competition horse, Kappi.

They managed to keep up with us!

Taktur was having a day off and we left him happily mooching around clearing up any dropped silage.

Kappi and Klængur had a good fast ride and once home, untacked and fed, we threw them out to eat around the shed and house with Taktur.  Daisy noticed this that even in our fields we colour coordinate – here we have six horses, three in each field comprising of two chestnut horses and one black.  Now that’s clever!

On, again, with our colour coordinated riding.  This time I took my old boy, Haakon.  He is a buckskin dun.

And so is Iacs, his 2nd cousin.  Daisy was riding him.

Iacs cantered along happily.  He was probably humming to himself too.  This second ride was meant to be slow – just two old men going for a little potter.  Nope.  We were riding happy hooligans who never stopped.

It was a grand ride.  We went right up into the hill.

This is the view on the way home.  Not bad, eh?

I ache a bit now.  It was totally worth it.

From my childhood

“Who put salt in the sugar bowl?

Who put fireworks in the coal?

Who put a real live toad in the hole?

MY BROTHER!

Who put jam in mothers shoe?

Who made real caterpillars stew?

Who locked Grandad in the loo?

MY BROTHER!

My brother said it wasn’t he who put shampoo in Grandma’s tea

My brother said that it was me!

My brothers rotten!

Who squeezed toothpaste round the hall?

Who put soot in the baby’s ball?

Who drew things on the garden wall – MY BROTHER!

He looks just like a chimney sweep
But dirt they say is just skin deep.
I know he’s good when he’s asleep!
(but you don’t know what he’s dreamin’ about do ya?)

Who wouldn’t mind if I ride his bike?
Who lets me shoot his gun if I like?
Who says I’m best at Football, Ludo, Snakes & Ladders, Hide & Seek,
Chasin’ each other up and down the garden, pinchin’ little girls up the high street?
Well he’s gotta say I’m best ’cause I’m bigger than he is and if he don’t say I’m best at everything, I’ll bash him.

Come on, come on mate, lets get out of here before you fall down the hole in the middle
Come on give us your hand’ we’re gonna walk …
‘ere what you had in your hand?
‘ave ya?
Corrrrr!!!!!

HaHa!

MY LOVELY LOVELY BROTHER!

(seriously bad move, Dreki!)

Lyrics – Mitch Murray / Terry Scott – I was brought up with this!

 

The ground is drying up now and everyone is making the most of this.  The routine is to have a little lie down after eating their silage – a little morning nap.

Dreki is now a fully-fledged member of being one-of-the-boys.

He gets on well with his half-brother, Efstur, on his mother’s side.  They like each other very much.

And I think they are quite similar in temperament.

Moving Dreki has been one of my better ideas!  Mother, what mother?

He is very settled and happy in his new environment.

Hjalti is the grown-up in the herd.

Yes, you heard, the grown up!

Dreki, as the baby, has been put in his place – the bottom of the pecking order – but if it means having real friends to play with, he is very happy to stay there.

I left them all dozing with a small terrier “en garde”.

Happy snoozing little boys.

Every day Taktur has his food to make him big and strong as well as maintaining his Handsome Princeness.  Note the pink bucket too.  Extra gorgeous now.

But there are others that covet Taktur’s bucket and they don’t give up easily.

That white chicken with the red leg ring means business.  She follows the food and she is tough.  Always there.

On a plus note, Taktur is not scared of chickens or birds under his legs and he is fairly unflappable (see what I did there? geddit?)

Our chickens are opportunists with no boundaries.  Drop it and lose it.

Chicken in a bucket, anyone?

I believe in true honesty. I try not to sugar-coat this blog.  Warts and all is how it is.

—————-

I knew we had to keep little cattie in for at least two weeks but I always get so hot at night and I slightly opened the bedroom velux window (a window that is built into the roof and slants to open).

Little cattie made her escape first thing on Sunday morning and, since then, we have all been searching every shed, every hole in the ground, everywhere for her.  This is not made easy as we are coming up to lambing and I cannot take BeAnne with me, despite being the only one little cattie adored.  It would be wrong to do this.

I leave food in the two sheds by our house that she could get into and, the night before last, one lot was eaten which got my hopes up but then last night’s food was untouched.

Perhaps little cattie is making her way back to her previous owner who lives, as the crow flies, probably 3 miles away.  I really hope so.

On a positive note, where we are is perfect cat territory – endless bunnies, mice, birds and shelter everywhere.  There are no predators and outdoor cats do very well here.  Little cattie was, according to her previous owner, a keen hunter.  Our roads are not busy, either.

What can I say? It was totally my fault.  I feel gutted, a truly awful animal owner and nothing like this has ever happened to me before.  I have let little cattie down.  I think she saw us as her captors and not her friends, though she adored BeAnne.  I can only pray she is safe and well.

Her Maj is doing ok. She seems to have become used to being on her own and just follows one of us wherever we go.

So now you know.

I doubt anyone will ever trust us with either another cat or dog, to be honest.