The Old Men are on a well-earned rest now.

They are in a new field and I saw them briefly on the horizon this morning.

This afternoon, Daisy and I went to “do”, ie trim and rasp, feet.  Today was Lilja and Albie’s turn.  Newt supervised.

Everyone was very chatty.

As a reward for our efforts, we spent some time in the field with everyone.

Sóley was very keen to talk, which is odd as she has always been an aloof young lady.  It is like a switch has been turned on in her brain and now she thinks people are wonderful.

Before she wouldn’t give me the time of day.

Today it was “me, me, love me”.

As I said, most odd.

Tiddles of course would give me the world. I only have to ask.

Big Sis was there.

In that pile of ponies I am sure I left Daisy.

She appears to have been swallowed whole.

I eventually dug her out and we went home feeling much loved and appreciated.

We were invited to celebrate “Day of the Icelandic Horse” by joining other Icelandic horses and their riders on Bannamin Beach in Burra – about an hour’s drive away.

We umm’ed and ahh’ed about it and decided that we would love to go and we would take the Old Men – they love the beach most.  We also decided not to do the whole ride as the horses are not really up for that and we would meet them at the beach instead.

Bannamin Beach is a beautiful sandy beach situated on a tombolo leading out to Kettla Ness peninsula.

There were ten of us in total.

We rode down the track and down some steps (which terrified me – I got off).  The other horses didn’t need asking twice.

I stood on the sidelines quivering.

We lined up for the essential always-taken photo.

“Tactics” were discussed for maximum safety – basically walk down, controlled tölt back, canter down again and then whatever back.

I let Haakon just do his own thing.  He stayed at the back and was happy enough there.

After the too-ing and fro-ing, those of us that wanted to had a little paddle.

Haakon enjoys drinking the entire sea.  It’s his thing.

It is not Iacs’ thing, though. He just stands at the edge and considers.

And then we rode up the steps, which I did manage but with my eyes shut. To me, the thought of horses and staircases does not mix. I would be hopeless at The Royal Military Academy Sandhurst – they have to ride up a staircase.

And here is a little film of us all – note Haakon piggy-pacing at his top speed.  For 26 years old, he is the total best! ❤️

“There’s someone behind me, isn’t there?”

“Oh, yes!”

And with that, my friend was introduced to Lilja and Sóley.

Silver also had a sniff.

So, while we are not allowing visitors to the islands to meet the Minions (our safety, and possibly their safety), like we did last year, I am always very happy to introduce “locals” to the herd.  That is different.

And I have to say that a certain ginger Icelandic filly was very taken with my friend.

It was totally reciprocated (meanwhile, I was standing on the sidelines feeling very much like chopped liver).

The others got a look-in too.

They made full use of my friend!

We were followed all over the field. Well, my friend was.

  

I think it might’ve been a hair thing.

Peas in a pod!

It’s funny because Sóley is very much her own horse and does not take to folk much but today was a different day. She had finally found her friend.

Again, I just stood on the sidelines and eventually Newt felt sorry for me and came to talk.  I think I am redundant.

BeAnne and I haven’t been to the beach for ages so I squished her into her car-harness, into the car and off we went.

She was straight out and straight into the water.  She loves water.  Possibly an otter in a previous life.

The beach was empty apart from the seabirds.

Lots of Arctic Terns (“Tirricks”) screaming at me and flying overhead.

In my pockets were two tennis balls.  BeAnne likes beach entertainment.

And the ball came too

It was lovely.  The perfect afternoon walk.

I kept looking behind me to check we were not littering.

Because sometimes we were, so I would go back and pop the ball into my pocket.

There was enthusiam!

(the wee bunched bottooom!)

Try as I might, BeAnne will never be a retriever.  More your resentful you-can’t-have-my-bally breed!

Though, it was sometimes ditched.

You have no idea just how much I love walking with Her Maj.  Her little smiley face, her partial hearing and possibly-obedience – it all makes my heart happy.

We walked up and down the beach.

I even found five “groatie buckies” – cowrie shells, which I never see. Not ever. I always look and when I do, I pounce on them thinking I am the luckiest person alive.  Five is like a field day.

Are these Turnstones?

Anywho my little “otter” was happy.

And then spied “intruders” (she does love an intruder and I feel a little embarrassed for the poor person who thought they could enjoy the beach too).

Yes, the Patterdale terrier breeding came out – woof, woof, woof.

And more woof in case the “intruder” had not heard.

I went home.

Obviously with Her Maj.  She will sleep well tonight.

She is remembering her ruddy bally-ball.

They are now in my coat pocket – a tad soggy!

And this is the last time I will mention this, I promise.

Today, a Shetland geologist visited the field. We had talked yesterday and, based on my photos, he was interested in the blackened rock and the whole situation.

It turns out the the rock was probably from the burn (stream) that passes through the field and, upon further inspection, there are a good pile of black rocks there but how they got to the middle of the field is anyone’s guess but they had been there a while.  Probably random children who like to play in the burn.

This also might be a Bronze Age burnt mound but it is on the Maybe List.

   

The geologist also told me about the effects of lightning which he had seen involving poles and wires like what we have in the field.  In his opinion, there had been lightning and we could put this down as “just one of those things” with the ponies being incredibly lucky.  We all agreed on this.

Afterwards, I popped down two fields to check on the Lucky Ones.

As usual the herd was completely oblivious to their near-miss but they were very pleased to see me and my bag of carrots.

(Doesn’t Sóley look just like her brother, Hjalti? – peas from the same pod).

Lilja remains ever the Big Sister.

I kissed all the noseys, stuffed carrots into the mouthses and told them we all loved them and they were very, very lucky.    Tiddles replied a carrot would make him feel just that bit more special!

And that is the last of it.  No foot rot, no disease, just the Gods deciding they didn’t want to have two Icelandic horses and eight Shetland ponies going to Valhalla that day.

I think they made the right choice.