Category Archives: MyShetland

Scunnered

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At the moment, my whole day is spent in my shed with Pepper making hand-felted Shetland wool sheep to sell.

All my current stock has been bought and I am meeting myself coming back while trying to keep up with demand.  It is Wool Week so extra pressure too, but in a good ££ way.  I have to keep my little field at Jamieson’s Knitwear full.

This will be my life for the next week and then I go to London on Thursday 8th October for a whole week of rest, seeing family as well as possibly a lot of shopping and a trip to the Bayeaux Tapestry.  I am very exited – I need this break very much.

All the animals will be left in Floss’ capable hands – she arrives Saturday- and she has lots of local back-up if needed too.

I may even give myself a break from the blog as I am feeling fairly scunnered with everything. (scunnered is a great word – it means fed up).

For now, however, I am just putting my head down and trying to make three felted sheep a day while the demand is there. I won’t lie, I am finding it exhausting and I barely see daylight except through the window.

Roll on the holidays. They can’t come soon enough.

The Weather Deteriorated

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As flute duets were over by three, I went out early this afternoon.  Another reason was because the weather was deteriorating (rain and a fierce wind) and the little ponies were all waiting for me looking hopeful.

So I went into the big shed where the hay bales live and stuffed a bit more into their haynets.  I think it is going to be a harsh night and I felt sorry for the little boys. These days, the track is really pretty bare.

But I don’t think anyone is looking slim or even thinking of  losing weight.

But the ponies also have their choice of the two containers and no doubt they will choose the one that is least affected by the wind and rain and all pile into it for the night.

And hopefully they will all be feeling happy and full of hay too.

I must admit I do still look at Silver and rather wish I had persevered more with detangling his mane properly rather than giving up and cutting (more like hacking) it.

I get the feeling Silver hasn’t really forgiven me for my heinous crime – it really is not the done thing here to cut a Shetland pony’s mane.

Back to a Normal Saturday

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I took this panoramic photo to show where everyone eats their breakfast.

From right to left, which is also the order I feed them:-

Kolka in the corner, with a touch more food than everyone else so she doesn’t got off to steal Haakon’s.
Haakon, who also has a sachet of boswellia added and is a slow eater.
Iacs – he has his four anti-cancer pills in his food at the top so if he is pushed off his food, at least I know he ate them.
Then Vitamin who eats very quickly. Wolfs it down.  She would only steal from Fivla, if she could.
And lastly Fivla who is possibly the slowest eater in the whole world (Haakon is a close second).

Once everyone has eaten and I have done all the remainder of my chores (put tomorrow’s food on to soak, put the sheep out in their field, swept up the sheep shed), I go back to the horses’ field and collect their buckets to take away and wash.

There was a soft light this morning and Iacs looked particularly nice in it.

He is very much an autumnal chap, I think.

I went inside and made a quick breakfast for myself, and then left the house, much to Pepper’s dismay.

Saturday mornings have gone back to being for Turriefield again.  There was lots of vegetables to weigh, pack and label.

I was particularly taken with the natural fractal geometry of Romanesco broccoli (I had to look that up).

It is extraordinary.  Nature at it’s cleverest.

And back home again just before lunch to my ever-waiting wee dug, Pepper, who has since followed me everywhere ever just in case I wanted to go out again without her.  That’s not happening on her watch.

A Special Place in Hell Waiting

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There is a special place in Hell waiting for me.

I did something you should never do.

In fairness, I had no choice.

I cut some of Silver’s mane off.  Ok, it was actually a large chunk.

But in my defence, Silver had a big “witches’ knot” and I couldn’t unravel it no matter how hard I tried so in the end I took the scissors to it telling myself it is only hair that will grow back.  And then I cut it off.

Witches’ knots are surrounded by folklore:-

A witches’ knot (also called a fairy knot or elf lock) in a horse’s mane is a tight, stubborn tangle that forms overnight:-

  • Midnight Rides: Old European legend says that witches, fairies, or elves ride horses through the night and braid or knot the hair to use as stirrups and reins (all I can say is good luck with that!)

  • Bad Luck: Folklore warns that untangling these knots brings bad luck or angers the spirits who chose the horse  (I didn’t untangle, I cut it out so I am probably double-doomed then).

  • Compliment: Some believe a knotted mane means your horse is a favorite of magical creatures (I doubt very much that Silver is a favourite of any magical creature!)

Actually witches’ knots are caused by the unceasing Shetland wind and are a real bore to get out.

I don’t think Silver was very impressed with me – he’s already lost his forelock to a greasy mat that I did manage to tease out.

Anyway, it’s not like anyone is going into the show ring very soon but I hope the others don’t point and laugh.

A Pensive Post

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Apologies if this angers some but I just wanted to put my thoughts down because I am feeling rather pensive after a trip to town.

I fed all the animals, made a quick hand-felted sheep for Jamieson’s Knitwear and then I went into town to get the Eggbox (Jimny) through it’s now-annual MOT.

This was the Jimny’s first MOT. It passed and the mechanic mentioned that it hadn’t done many miles (just over 3,000).  I replied that it was a glorified wheelbarrow really!

Anyway, after the MOT, I went to the Agricultural Merchants that are next to the Marts (market) and Abbatoir.

Whilst collecting my animal feed around the back, I saw flocks of sheep in their stalls waiting to be sold with potentially a miserable fate ahead.  And there’s always one that looks like Edna ***sniff***.  We all know what happens. I won’t spell it out.  I just felt very sorry for the sheep and wanted to take them home with me so they could live out their natural lives in green fields.

But it cannot be.  I know that and I had to promise my physiotherapist and anaesthetist (pain clinic chap) that I wouldn’t have any more animals on my croft.  Eight sheep is the allowed number, plus a handful of horses and ponies.

It also made me think, as I drove home, that my sheep really do not know just how lucky they are.

They have the world.

The worst thing they have to worry about is who gets ownership of their shed.

I guess the difference is that I see my sheep as pets and not food.  It was just that the for-sale sheep’s resigned little faces in the mart stalls broke my heart.  I should really avoid these places and just concentrate on hugging my own ungrateful lot.

(and I don’t want a row about agriculture and farming methods – I am a realist. I know how the world works. I was just sad, that’s all).