Nice Weather For Ducks

We have spent today (and most of yesterday) living in thick fog. A right pea souper.

I could barely see the horses.

As we say, “it is nice weather for ducks” though they didn’t look like they were enjoying it much either.

Well, Mr Ducky-Wucky looked utterly miserable and took himself off to bed.  The girls seemed a bit happier by comparison.

I am titling this photo “When you try on your mother’s eye-shadow and hope she doesn’t notice!”

Lambie sulked in his field.  He and the other Boyzens had escaped earlier into the hill when OH drove off for work.  He only came home because ‘Ster and ‘Bert wanted back into the confines and he didn’t want to be by himself.

So, that’s us today. A dreich Shetland day with barely any light and not much good to say about it.  I am also feeling very tired from yesterday’s entertainment so having a day off is not a bad thing.

Farrier Confirmation

Our farrier, Stephen, visited today to shoe and trim the horses so we quickly dragged him out to see the Minions in their field.

I know, I know, I said I would never mention this again, but…… (yes, there are still rumblings of disbelief and I really want to put the lid on them.)

First, Stephen thoroughly examined Fivla’s hooves, including trimming them to take a closer look.  He could smell burning on her hooves.

Then it was Tiddles’ turn.

Again, Tiddles was thoroughly examined.

Ditto.

In Stephen’s professional and qualified opinion, everyone’s hooves showed absolutely no sign of footrot or disease.  However, he advised we get Scottish Hydro (island’s electricity supply) to check the two wooden poles that run through the field.

Then home and those that should be shod were.

BeAnne tried hard to commit suicide.

Stephen left us and I phoned the Scottish & Southern Electricity Board.  They were very helpful and sent out within the hour their expert.

We all waited with baited breath.

With a high tech stick and a lightbulb on the end, everything was tested and nothing dangerous was found.

The official and professional electricity man’s verdict was “lightning is shit”, ie it does wierd stuff and we are now officially (no, really, this time I mean it – as I can’t think of anyone else to ask now) putting it down to “one of those things” as it was definitely lightning.

My money is on aliens.

 

In Search of Thistles

It was a nice(ish) afternoon today so Floss and I took the Old Men, Iacs and Haakon, out for a walk.

Klængur had already been out this morning on a fast ride, so he was more than happy to be left behind.

Haakon went along with his nose on the ground.

So I pretty much left him to his own devices.

“Hurry up, Mum!”

Iacs quickly spotted a thistle and began digging.

Ever the comedian!

He does love a thistle.

Then they spotted a previous slurry spred from Klængur’s morning blast.

You can so tell these two Icelandic horses are related.

Cousins, obviously.

Oh yes!

There were many thistles – it was a very slow walk.

Iacs did the thistle face of ow-ow-ow-but-I-love-it!

Haakon ate a few that he liked the look of.

Why do they dig out the middle bit on some? Does it taste sweeter or something?  Someone on the internet says “cucumber” and “like burdock root only better”. I am none the wiser.

We met a few cars and duly flung ourselves down the side of the road.

And then Iacs found a lovely patch of his favourite prickly plant and was walking round with it  in his mouth like a lollypop!

It was a very peaceful Sunday afternoon stroll with the Old Men.

Sheeple Portraits

I took a few sheeple portraits of the Boyzens and Girlzenberries the other day.

A Wistful Lambie

‘Bert thinking his far away thoughts.

Pensive ‘Ster.

Dearest Edna.  Possibly the nicest kindest sheeple I have ever met.

Little MIssy, who is such a sweetie and now wants her own speshul bowl to eat her breakfast out of (and yes, she has one, of course!) as she hates sharing and being bullied off her food.  These days breakfast time is getting rather complicated.

Madge is trying so hard but yet….. she remains batshit crazy.  However, she will just take a biccie from me and I need to catch her and loosen that collar.

And we finish with a little hint of a Winning Smile.  It’s those eyes.  Lambie has such lovely eyes.

This is his best wool time of the year, too.

For the past few days, all the sheep have been around the house because the weather alternates between seriously revolting and very windy.  There was no let-up for a few days and when the rain buckets down, the sheep all run for their shelter. I am glad they have access to it (especially Edna) – it has been ferocious at times.  But the grass needs eating down, so they are doing me a favour too.  That’s the way I see it.

Walk on the Beach

En route to see the Minions, I took BeAnne for a walk on the local beach.  At long last she has got the plot with the car dog harness (in her youth, she could wriggle out of it) and will sit quietly in the car, hating every minute.

But the reward makes it worth it.  BeAnne gets to go to the beach with me.

And she does like the beach.

Before we left, I put a couple of tennis balls in my pocket and I became a very good retriever after a while.

Mostly because, although enthusiastic to start with, Her Maj would then quickly lose interest and I would be the one going to fetch the ball.

She has me pretty well trained!

There were a few seabirds about – including a Great Skua (“Bonxie”) who was on his own and mooching around, annoying anyone he could.

We also saw a single gannet (“Solan“).

And a few Artic terns (“Tirrick”)

I was mostly looking for cowrie shells but the tide was too high and I couldn’t get my eye in. They are usually easier to find on a low tide as there is line of little stones to follow.

But I did see goose barnacles. They give me the willies.  Always have.

So BeAnne and I walked up and down the beach enjoying the wind and the waves.  We pretty much had the place all to ourselves.

Obviously the neighbours’ curtains were twitching.

BeAnne tried her best with the tennis balls.

I am the owner of two soggy tennis balls in my coat pocket.

As I write, a not-so-small someone is snoring her head off beside me, though obviously not in her bed as Monster has still not vacated.

 

She dreams of her intrepid adventures.