The other day Lambie was dithering about coming into my shed. We were playing flute trios with a friend. Lambie wasn’t sure as he didn’t know one of the flautists very well so we left the door open (it was cold, thank you Lambie) and he couldn’t make his mind up while we simultaneously played and froze to death.  And if I shut the door, he would butt it.

Today, when I got home from checking the Minions, I heard the sound of a hoover in the house, so I beat a swift retreat to my shed and decided to practice my flute.  Lambie promptly came in to listen.

BeAnne went to sleep.

And then the hooverer, Daisy, who had now finished, came to join us too.

We played flute duets together, like you do with a sheep standing beside you. This is our normal now.

And then Monster appeared and it swiftly became a family affair

Monster – “Please stop playing, please never make this noise again. Pleeeeeeeze!”

Lambie was very happy in my shed. He wouldn’t let anyone else come in or out.

We went on fluting and he sat down.

I won’t say Lambie is fat but he is a bit fat.

And then it got odd.  ‘Ster wanted in so we all left and I gave Monster and BeAnne their tea.

Because that’s how we roll in our Shire!

Haakon is feeling very sorry for himself and I hate seeing him like that – all down and miserable – so we went for a walk together to look for thistles.

You can see from the picture where he was bitten – it is all lumpy.

Anyway, Haakon has always loved thistles and I hoped a nice walk would cheer him up a bit.

It was a slow going – Floss brought BeAnne along too and she was not helpful and absolutely determined to walk under Haakon’s every hoof!  Mostly she was on a lead to try and keep her safe.  It would’ve been a total accident if he had trodden on her – he tries to avoid that sort of thing if he can and is very responsible but it seemed that BeAnne was on a mission.

We stopped when Haakon wanted to stop.

He looked at the neighbours’ horses who were shouting at him (he’s still handsome, even from a distance!)

And he carefully chose his thistles…..

…. sometimes stopping to dig them out or to eat the flower heads.

He was allowed to stop for grass too – it was his walk, after all.

As we went slowly along, Haakon did visibly cheer up and that was good. It was what we wanted.

This is Haakon’s thistle face – sort of “ow, ow, ow but I love them!”

Like when I eat a chilli or a pickled onion.

I didn’t really need to lead my old friend.  He just walked companionably along side.

Iacs was desperate to come too but we couldn’t leave Klængur on his own as he would mind.

Maybe next time.

A terrible morning.  We woke up to hear screaming horses and, upon rushing outside, found the gate between the two fields had “somehow” come open.

It has been windy recently and perhaps the rope had finally frayed and given up, or perhaps a ginger ninja (we have three, so there is a choice of ninja with specialist rope skills) has spent the night chewing it.  Who knows.

Anyway, Taktur and his friends had rushed into the old men’s field and were beating them up.  By the time we arrived on the scene, Klængur was hiding in another field and, with OH on the gate, the girls quickly caught Haakon and Iacs to take them to his field too.  Taktur and his mates were galloping around, high on adrenaline from bullying feeling very pleased with themselves.  I shot them a filthy look and concentrated on Iacs and Haakon, who were relieved to leave the scene and feeling very sorry for themselves.

Iacs seemed physically ok but Haakon had bites on his neck and there was a little blood.  We gave him Danilon (painkiller) and then checked on them all regularly.

I went down later with a huge bag of carrots to distribute. Carrots make everything better.

I could tell Haakon was still upset.  He refused to talk. Once he was the boss of the herd and now he is not.  It hurts.

I really feel for him.   A few years back Haakon would’ve given as good as he got and put everyone in their places leaving them all in no doubt that he was the boss.

Anyway, those days are gone now and Haakon, his wounded pride and his friends are in a good field away from the bullying rabble.

I am glad these three are together.  They are a close little group who rarely bicker and seem to be fairly equal in status.

Bloody stallion. Bloody other horses.  Poor Haakon and Iacs.

Anyone remember the little orphan foal who came to us in the spring of 2016 – Albie’s arrival blog post (Albie was called Brisk then)?

He was funny little chap who needed lots of love and attention.  A Mummy’s boy without his proper Mummy.

So this is Albie now, 4 years on.  A solid little chap.

Still a huge (literally) Mummy’s boy.

We adore him.

But, best of all, definitely one of the boys.  He has been accepted – it took a while as he was in their eyes “different”.

I was just thinking today that Albie has come a very long way from the poor little sad “screaming” foal who wanted his Mum more than anything.  Even though we were totally out of our depth, we tried our very best for him (Floss put in the hours – she truly did – out all weathers and hours with her bucket of milk) and we were also very lucky in being given a diary from another Shetland pony breeder who had bucket-reared a foal which gave us some essential guidelines to follow.

We are very proud of the gorgeous (if slightly fat) pony Albie has become.  He is a total joy.

**** sniff, so proud ****

This is the world’s most boringest blog post and I am sorry. There is no excuse except I have been busy doing the mundane stuff that made up my life today.

My morning was spent trying to work out the logistics of going south at the end of this month.  Youngest daughter has been accepted by Bristol University to do a Masters degree in Chinese-English translation.  I have decided to drive her down south, settle her into wherever (halls or a flat) and then drive on to see my mother for a week.  I haven’t seen her in just under a year. I was meant to go south in the middle of March for her 80th birthday celebrations but it was all postponed.

BeAnne is doing well now. Her health issues seem to be well controlled by a twice daily cocktail of drugs. Although she is a bit of a doitin’ old lady, and a fat one at that, I am hoping Her Maj will be fine without me for just under two week.  Obviously I will worry like mad and, if BeAnne is not coping, then I will drive as fast as I can home. She will have Daisy and OH who will look after her and see to her every need. It is the best I can do.

These days, it is not easy leaving Shetland but hopefully today’s efforts have not been wasted in organising our trip south.

So that’s the plan.

As it was Thursday afternoon, Daisy and I went over to Transition Turrifield to pack vegetables for their delivery box-scheme.

(the view from the shed)