My learning curve is now vertical.

Fivla’s blood results are back. They showed insulin dysregulation and I am totally floundering trying to find out what that means and and how to care for her.

First thing, I took Fivla out of her field.  No more grass and there she stayed while I went to work packing vegetables.

The others were surprised but not unhappy to see Fivla.

However, I am worried about Vitamin, who will miss her best friend hugely but this is the best for Fivla.  I may put someone in like Newt in with Vitamin during the night-time so she has a friend, albeit Newt.  Poor, poor Vita-moo.

When I got back from work, I made another decision and took Fivla out of the track, putting her in the “slimming” paddock. Albie offered to keep her company.

I gave them some of the night-time soaked hay and noticed Fivla is quidding (spitting it out after chewing) badly, which is not brilliant.  The equine dentist is due mid-October but I doubt it will make any difference to this.  She is 27 and her teeth are going.

But my plan is for the weight to come off, no laminitis, no colic and for Fivla to be happy in her new environment.  I am searching the internet for a good hay replacer that we can feed four times a day.

I am keeping this short today. I haven’t slept in a few nights now, and I’m absolutely exhausted.  My back pain is slowly returning (the respite was nice) and I took a painkiller. That’s what is doing it.

So instead of my usual blurb, here are some photos so you can see it is dreich today.

This morning was like the beginning of a boxing match.

“In the right corner – we have Huey, Louie and Dewey plus Mum playing in a muddy puddle.

In the left corner, we have the sheep going out for the morning, minus ‘Ster, Lambie and Harrel who were hanging around hoping for chocolate cake! Dream on boys.”

As Wednesday is Water Day, I sat in the constant drizzle waiting for buckets to fill up.

I had company and I was soaked.

This is the last one.  A non-sharing situation with complaints on OH’s lunchtime lap. Pepper got there first.  Monster has no morals.

Sorry for the shortness. I have officially run out of steam.

Well, I think I can safely say all the ducklings for this year are here now.  All are Mr Duckie’s bebbies.  Well done that drake.

Of course, the duck families all want to live separate lives so I am encouraging integration like mad.

This is Mrs Black Ducky and her son (possibly a Cuthbert – he is a bit of a drip), who is also being stalked by Penthesilea’s Mum (PM) – I had to throw out her eggs as they turned green and stank.  PM is now rejoining the social duck whirl and is in love with her nephew (ew, but it is what it is).

Cuthbert and PM. ❤️  Complicated.

Group #2 is this lot.   Mum…..

…. and her three sons (depressed, muchly) so I named them Huey, Dewey, and Louie.

But they are very sweet …

…. and ridiculously stupid and tame.

And, lastly but not leastly, I have the original duckling family who are huge now.  Two girls and one boy – and I can’t think of any “famous” names for them.  Thoughts, please.

They are a happy little family.  And in good news, they all sleep under one roof (except for HD&L) which makes my life much easier.  I am hoping.

And as for Penthisilea, she continues to sit and I know there are no ducklings there.  The eggs will turn green and I will take them away soon.

So we have in total:-

Mr Ducky
His five original girls
Plus……. 3 boys + 1 boy +1 boy = 5 more boys
and 2 girls.

Which is in reality 6 boys and 7 girls.  Hey ho.  Writing it all down helps.

I am just hoping everyone will get on with each other though I have a sneaking suspicion the boys together could all be a problem.  We will see.

Monster doesn’t care.  Not even slightly.

I took the dogs to Leradale for their walk and made a decision – they (the Minions) are not going there for the winter like they usually do.

There’s just too much green grass and it will not be good for them.

This way lies failure.

At home, the track is doing its job and everyone is resentful but sans laminitis which is my main aim.

This time last year, and the year before I think, we were struggling with this dreaded symptom/disease.

A small fact (very small, about 26″ of small) – Newt can turn over every feed bowl every time I turn them back to drain and keep out of the rain. It’s his talent!  I am not proud of this.

So my plan, for what it is worth, is to get the Minions through October living here and then to send them to our croft across the road. There is a nice hill park that will offer lots of grotty grass and shelter (the nearest hill).

I am trying so hard not to listen to the protests about no grass, no food, and no life.

But this times last year and the year before it was hell.  I must stay strong. I must stay strong.

It’s been a vile, if warm, dreich day today.  The dogs got soaked on their walk. Pepper insisted on pressing up against the electric heater in my shed while I made sheeple.

And Ted huddled pitifully on the chaise longue. Is there no sadder sight than a wet dog?

Meanwhile, the sheep had taken shelter with the ducks.

They all seemed to be muddling along so I left them to it.

Later on, the weather cleared and the sheep all clambered under the fence to go out into the field to eat.  All except ‘Ster. He just can’t do it and goes around bleating miserably to himself or to anyone who will listen (me).

I am used to this. I know what to do. I called him up.

But first I grabbed a piece of crackly paper and I lured him through the open garden gate.

And then ‘Ster followed me through the garden.

He knows the drill too. ‘Ster is not allowed to tell OH that he is doing this …

…and he is not allowed to eat any of OH’s precious plants.

No, he is not! Them’s are The Rules.

Seriously, ‘Ster what are you thinking? OH will do his nut if he sees this!

Once through the garden, I let ‘Ster out through the little garden gate and he waits for a treat. I kissed him on the top of his head and told him that was all he would get. He trotted off to find his friends.

I told you, we both know the drill.