Life is travelling along pretty much the same for us.  We go out only to check horses or exercise ourselves and our routine works well.

After doing the horses and ponies, every afternoon I go to my she-shed and continue to make sheeple (this one is waiting for his coat) and in the evening, I transcribe my Great Great Aunt Kate’s diaries.  1906 has been reached so that’s 12 years done.  I find it fascinating and am enjoying it very much.

As for the sheeple side, well, I keep making them for a non-existent market.  The shop that sells them is closed at present and the visitors are not here.

But I enjoy making them and will just keep going until a) I run out of wool or b) I run out of shed space – whichever arrives first.

In other news, a certain old lady (namely Edna) has told me she is very probably in lamb.

Despite my vet’s best efforts when they were first rescued off the open hill where they were deliberately dumped with ear tags cut out, I would think a lamb or two may be around the corner next week.

If there is any bright side to this, at least (and I need to have this confirmed by my sheep expert), Madge is not in lamb so as Edna is very tame, she will be easy to help if required.  I am about to hit Youtube and look for an instant lambing course for those that know nothing.  This is not what I planned.

Lamb(s)….. I can’t say I am thrilled but what will be, will possibly be.  Please let it go smoothly because I really do not know what I am doing and can’t even pretend that I do.

Daisy and I have been taking things very slowly with Efstur as he is a sensitive chap who does far too much thinking.

A few days ago, Daisy asked me to “let go”, ie put the lead rope over Efstur’s neck.  Efstur then followed me while she backed up my verbal instructions with leg, seat and hand aids.

Today was the first day I could take a step back from the track and it was more Daisy’s onboard input than my body and spoken language on the ground.

It was not all plain sailing, by any means, as Efstur was obviously unsure of what was being asked and tried to evade the question if he could but Daisy quietly told him what she wanted and went over the basics again and again and again.

Today Efstur learned the halt transition and walk forwards in a straight line aids and by the end he knew he was a good boy because he had got it.  Other things he already knows are to stand still when Daisy gets on and off and to not move off until he is asked.  All this may seem very little and insignificent but for us these are the essential training foundation stones from which we build.

Her Maj found a nice patch of sunlight and dozed.

So it was a good training day for Efstur.

Yesterday I came across these three reprobates all loafing about.

As you can see, Lambie’s best friends were the chickens.

He is not a huge fan of them, to be perfectly honest, preferring to use them as stepping stones to get to the feed shed while avoiding the mud.  They squawk indignantly and they all look something from the Muppets!

https://youtu.be/5rCoseZkII0

Anywho, the hens love Lambie (but not his awful stained head with antibiotic spray from this year’s horn loss).

Today they had their revenge for being stepped on by pecking his wool to get the hen food out – I guess he is sometimes in the wrong place when OH throw the hen’s breakfast about in the morning.  He was not happy about being pecked.

This is what a cross sheep looks like.

And this is ‘Bert being ever so ‘andsome.  I love it when he sits on his legs. Very compact.

‘Ster turned around to give me one of his lovely smiles.

(such a gorgeous smile, too).

And they all ignored Lambie and left him to his chicken rage.  He has only himself to blame.  He does tread on them unmercilessly. It’s like he doesn’t see them on his way to the shed.

A BeAnne update:

Her Maj is doing ok but obviously not 100% yet.

She is happy, she eats if we all dance the dance but the slight whiff of her bad breath has returned.

So, as others were also noticing and thus confirmed it wasn’t just me being obssessed, I phoned the vet and we decided that BeAnne would go back onto antibiotics again.  Another ten day course to try and nuke the bacteria that are trickling into her liver and causing her liver enzymes to be high, yada, yada.

Of course BeAnne is not keen on pills and any disguise is useless so, as I am still sort of syringing her liver support supplement and hepatic diet into her twice a day, I will add them into that regimen.  She doesn’t get to refuse and she actually doesn’t mind, mostly eating it on her own with the threat of the syringe ready if she stops.  That’s why it is “sort of”.  It all is a dance with added mind games, which do my head in.

Having said that, we are still going for a long walk every day, although grudgingly which I think is the weather being fairly harsh recently. Based on all this, you would think BeAnne has had enough but she is playing.  Really playing like she did when she was a puppy.   She hasn’t played for ages and it is good to see her play.  When she plays, I know life is a game to her and she is still enjoying it – plus us all running around after her.

We remain her slaves.

Daisy took a photo this morning of the ducks – we now know where they prefer to bathe and, best of all, there’s a queue!  So much for the bath we lovingly made for them which Floss even cleaned and refilled.  That’s not happening again.  The water bucket left out for the sheep is the preferred pond.  And we were wondering why it was always muddy.

So this led to the conversation of “does anyone else have any strange photos”?  Well, the flood gates opened and you can guess who features most.

There is certainly a front paw thing going on too.

Diving?

Strange doesn’t really describe how odd this cat truly is.

Apparently when Daisy is practising her flute he stands in front and prods her until she stops.

Leaving Monster behind, Daisy also had a lovely photo of her two ginger ninjas taken on a rare day of sunshine.  Apparently there was one, once.

And I managed to catch the herd in Leradale. The only time when Lilja and Sóley are the same height as the Minions!

I love other folk’s family photos – well, photos of my weird and whacky lot anyway.