We like to rotate our fields all year round and so recently the Icelandic boys have all been moved.  They are still (and probably always will be) split up as Taktur refuses to play nicely with Haakon.  So now we have the youngsters on one side (left) and the Old Men on the other.

Kappi lives with the youngsters too.  Taktur doesn’t seem to bother him.  He gives him “The Look” and Taktur takes his urges elsewhere.

Kappi also doesn’t mind the young ones and their idiot pranks.

Klængur, although not very aged, is with the Old Men. He was never a huge one for playing and appreciates the peace and quiet that comes with age.

Haakon is very, very old.  He has seen it all and is not very impressed these days.

And Iacs thinks he as young lad, but is actually only year younger than Haakon – they are cousins.   You can probably tell.

I fed Haakon his daily TurmerAid (you have no idea the difference in him) and did a spot of ragworting – I just can’t walk past the wretched vile plant and do nothing.  I use the old boxes for everything including a single dose for Haakon. It is just the right size for one horse.  Having thrown the now-empty box down in the field and, while I was pulling weeds, I saw out of the corner of my eye that Iacs was playing.  He was very pleased with himself especially when he managed to pick the box up!  Silly-frilly-Billy.

If you do want to buy TurmerAid, please use the code “Lambie10” and it will get you 10% off.

‘Ster says hello by the way!

The Old Men are on a well-earned rest now.

They are in a new field and I saw them briefly on the horizon this morning.

This afternoon, Daisy and I went to “do”, ie trim and rasp, feet.  Today was Lilja and Albie’s turn.  Newt supervised.

Everyone was very chatty.

As a reward for our efforts, we spent some time in the field with everyone.

Sóley was very keen to talk, which is odd as she has always been an aloof young lady.  It is like a switch has been turned on in her brain and now she thinks people are wonderful.

Before she wouldn’t give me the time of day.

Today it was “me, me, love me”.

As I said, most odd.

Tiddles of course would give me the world. I only have to ask.

Big Sis was there.

In that pile of ponies I am sure I left Daisy.

She appears to have been swallowed whole.

I eventually dug her out and we went home feeling much loved and appreciated.

We were invited to celebrate “Day of the Icelandic Horse” by joining other Icelandic horses and their riders on Bannamin Beach in Burra – about an hour’s drive away.

We umm’ed and ahh’ed about it and decided that we would love to go and we would take the Old Men – they love the beach most.  We also decided not to do the whole ride as the horses are not really up for that and we would meet them at the beach instead.

Bannamin Beach is a beautiful sandy beach situated on a tombolo leading out to Kettla Ness peninsula.

There were ten of us in total.

We rode down the track and down some steps (which terrified me – I got off).  The other horses didn’t need asking twice.

I stood on the sidelines quivering.

We lined up for the essential always-taken photo.

“Tactics” were discussed for maximum safety – basically walk down, controlled tölt back, canter down again and then whatever back.

I let Haakon just do his own thing.  He stayed at the back and was happy enough there.

After the too-ing and fro-ing, those of us that wanted to had a little paddle.

Haakon enjoys drinking the entire sea.  It’s his thing.

It is not Iacs’ thing, though. He just stands at the edge and considers.

And then we rode up the steps, which I did manage but with my eyes shut. To me, the thought of horses and staircases does not mix. I would be hopeless at The Royal Military Academy Sandhurst – they have to ride up a staircase.

And here is a little film of us all – note Haakon piggy-pacing at his top speed.  For 26 years old, he is the total best! ❤️

“There’s someone behind me, isn’t there?”

“Oh, yes!”

And with that, my friend was introduced to Lilja and Sóley.

Silver also had a sniff.

So, while we are not allowing visitors to the islands to meet the Minions (our safety, and possibly their safety), like we did last year, I am always very happy to introduce “locals” to the herd.  That is different.

And I have to say that a certain ginger Icelandic filly was very taken with my friend.

It was totally reciprocated (meanwhile, I was standing on the sidelines feeling very much like chopped liver).

The others got a look-in too.

They made full use of my friend!

We were followed all over the field. Well, my friend was.

I think it might’ve been a hair thing.

Peas in a pod!

It’s funny because Sóley is very much her own horse and does not take to folk much but today was a different day. She had finally found her friend.

Again, I just stood on the sidelines and eventually Newt felt sorry for me and came to talk.  I think I am redundant.

BeAnne and I haven’t been to the beach for ages so I squished her into her car-harness, into the car and off we went.

She was straight out and straight into the water.  She loves water.  Possibly an otter in a previous life.

The beach was empty apart from the seabirds.

Lots of Arctic Terns (“Tirricks”) screaming at me and flying overhead.

In my pockets were two tennis balls.  BeAnne likes beach entertainment.

And the ball came too

It was lovely.  The perfect afternoon walk.

I kept looking behind me to check we were not littering.

Because sometimes we were, so I would go back and pop the ball into my pocket.

There was enthusiam!

(the wee bunched bottooom!)

Try as I might, BeAnne will never be a retriever.  More your resentful you-can’t-have-my-bally breed!

Though, it was sometimes ditched.

You have no idea just how much I love walking with Her Maj.  Her little smiley face, her partial hearing and possibly-obedience – it all makes my heart happy.

We walked up and down the beach.

I even found five “groatie buckies” – cowrie shells, which I never see. Not ever. I always look and when I do, I pounce on them thinking I am the luckiest person alive.  Five is like a field day.

Are these Turnstones?

Anywho my little “otter” was happy.

And then spied “intruders” (she does love an intruder and I feel a little embarrassed for the poor person who thought they could enjoy the beach too).

Yes, the Patterdale terrier breeding came out – woof, woof, woof.

And more woof in case the “intruder” had not heard.

I went home.

Obviously with Her Maj.  She will sleep well tonight.

She is remembering her ruddy bally-ball.

They are now in my coat pocket – a tad soggy!