Completing my morning breakfast feeding chores, I turned around to see this little group together.  It took my by surprise.

When I laughed out loud, they looked at me like this was their family life and what was I making such a fuss about.

Honestly, Mum, this is perfectly normal!

Maybe I should start a business selling potential album cover art to up and coming (and possibly naive) musicians.

(This was particularly sweet – when Pepper started washing ‘Ster’s face.)

I could make a fortune.  Surely they would be a success.  A re-release for Abba’s latest oeuvre on vinyl, which is apparently making a comeback.

And this is the final photo I took of these three before I put all the sheep into their field for the day and Pepper came back into the house with me.

Luckily the rest of the family hadn’t turned up to see this strange display of behaviour.   Probably just as well.

The Shetland ponies were all hanging around this morning, telling me that they were still hungry.

And I felt bad.

There is not much, if anything, to eat on the track and they should have some fibre in their bellies. “Horses have evolved to trickle feed daily for up to 18 hours….” – BHS

I tell myself that, although Shetland ponies can and should live off fresh-air, they do need some food so I gave in and put out three haynets for them.  I have no will-power on their behalf and guilt is a nagging feeling.

And they all tucked in enthusiastically.

(Note how Vitamin has the whole haynet to herself while the other six share just one).

That is, all except, for Fivla who didn’t have the brain energy to work out how come everyone was eating and she wasn’t.

So I gently guided her around the gate and she made her way to her own box with a haynet.

You have to admire the Old Ladies, though, they have life sussed!  No sharing with the Minions.

Now, I could relax, knowing everyone would eat what they wanted and then have a lovely full feeling.  I am pleased with the ponies’ shape too –  they’ve lost weight and their grass-belly, while exercising all the time around the track, looking for a blade of grass.

Some left-over snappity snaps as I had my big camera with me.

Oh yes, and thank you for all your help, advice and recommendations for trekking poles. I am doing my homework.

I am thinking about buying a pair of trekking poles for dog-walks.  Currently, I am using my mother/step-father’s walking sticks to see if they help and, although heavy, I think they do.

The pretty antler tops are utterly useless and actually annoying, as I tend to hold the sticks further down, so they are not ideal but they give me the gist of what I should be feeling if I invest in proper trekking poles.

I did find that walking with a pole in each hand really helped my balance (non existent at the best of times) and with my speed and stability.  It was a great improvement.   I am hopeful they would help my spine too.

Thinking all these things while I walked, I sat down on a nearby rock to look up on the internet just how to walk with trekking poles. There is a method and I couldn’t work out what was right.  Apparently it is opposite leg to pole, which I find quite difficult (my brain fries while I try and change).  I would make a rotten soldier marching on parade, I think.

So sitting on my rock, I then looked at Amazon for vague prices and recommendations and trekking poles can range from £30 to £200.

So my question is, do you get what you pay for?  Sometimes buying the cheapest model can be a false economy.  I would be using them most days to walk the dogs across rough terrain, which can include mud and snow – they need to be hard-wearing and not going to break immediately, comfortable in my hands, and the right kit for the job.

And the grippy bit? Cork or rubber or foam?

So, if you use trekking poles, your input and recommendations would be invaluable to me.

Much thanks.

I saw these three sheltering from the north wind when I was on the dog walk.

They were all looking very *** cough *** well (I am almost thinking FAT, but I shall stop that now and tell myself they need all the calories they can stuff in for when winter arrives, which is not that far away now).  Any minute now I shall bemoan the fact we have no grass and it is very cold.

But for now I have three heffalumps in a row and possibly another potential album cover.

On the way home – I went to check the far gate into the open hill was firmly shut – Pepper was straight over to sit with Haakon.

I could not love this picture more.  All my most favourite “people”.

My theory is that Pepper likes the horses’ soft wuffly noses gently sniffing and nudging her.

And then Pepper plonked herself down next to Iacs to admire the view and chat about life, the universe, everything.  They look such a happy group together.

And no, no one ever kicks because that would be downright rude and also very unneighbourly.   Pepper trusts her friends and they trust her.

WARNING – DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU ARE OF A SQUEAMISH DISPOSITION…..

But Teddy had an amazing day, today.  He was what Mum always wanted him to be – “a proper dog”.  He killed his first wild bunny rabbit.

Pepper flushed the rabbit out and it came racing down the hill towards me. Ted was with me and ran in a straight line, working out as he went the best way to intercept the quarry, and he was right on the mark.

Seconds later, it was dead.  It was an efficient and correct terrier kill.  Ted’s instincts have finally kicked in.

And then Pepper let the side down and quickly stole dead rabbit from him carrying it all the way home, while feeling very proud of herself. To be fair, Ted had already lost interest.

Pepper didn’t want to let “her” quarry go and so Ted and I went into my shed for the afternoon….

…. while Pepper sat outside in the cold northerly wind and rain. Her choice, not mine.

In the end, and mostly because it was not an afternoon to be outside, I told Pepper it was “dead” (a gundog command she knows that means “let it go now”) and she did give up the rabbit without a fuss and I threw it onto a shed roof for the seagulls.

The minute it was gone, Pepper lost interest too and went back to her day job of pestering me while looking incredibly cute.

Anyway, well done Ted.  He’s a proper dog. It’s official.

(and I’m sorry if all that was gross, but I am very pleased with Ted. Good job! That’s what terriers do and they should do it expertly too).