There was a lull in the ceaseless wind today so I drove over to Jo’s house to see if she wanted to move the ponies as snow is forecast. We have better fields waiting.
She was in and after a sausage sarnie, we struck.
First we moved the mares. This involved shouting, rattling a bucket of pony nuts, opening two gates and the girls walked straight across the hill track and into their new field. Perfect. Things were going smoothly, which is most unlike us. This is a big sheltered field and, as you can see, the grass is up to their bellies.
Carina and Gwendolinda are the best of friends while Verona and Velvereta look pregnant.
When they run out of food, this is an easy field to put silage bales in.
Next, we trotted off to see les boys who were less than helpful. Actually, they were appalling.
It was Sunday morning rugby. Hammy appeared to be feral and said he had never had a headcollar put on before in his life. He twerped around the field for a while and Jo managed to finally get him with the enticing pony nut bucket.
So, with headcollars on, we were dragged down the road to the new field. We were pulled and stretched and the only one who behaved was our stallion, IndyPingPong.
He trudged along at the back while Hammy stretched my other arm trotting on the spot like a Newmarket racehorse in the ring. Traffic was stopped while Charlie, and his forgotten manners, dragged Jo over. We were not impressed. Once in their field, the boys forgot everything and settled down to eating.
To think, the best behaved was Little Himself. This was because I was reading him potential recipes in case he got any ideas. He did get a kiss on the snozzer for his slightly better manners.