A quick trip to Lerwick to drop off a horse for a friend.  There and back and I forgot to do One Important Thing, which I am now kicking myself about.  I will send a grovelly apology.  Today, and most days, I have the brain of a hen.  I am surprised I didn’t drive the horse to Tesco’s.  My excuse?  I was in automatic pilot.

Meh!  Then an afternoon spent arguing with Vodafone.  That’s a few hours of my life that I will never get back.

Flossie kindly drove over to check The Minion Herd and the preggie laydees for me.

I briefly glimpsed some horses that apparently I look after and even own – I love this photo of Dreki standing guard over his dad, Taktur.  I saw them this morning from my bedroom window.

And so the sun has now set and I feel very short-changed today about not spending important time with my animals.

So, as you may remember from yesterday, Floss and I fed the Shetland pony herd our carrots when doing our daily check.  The whole herd had decided they were going to live forever on their miserable little homemade “island” but, as we were leaving they thought they would follow us through a muddy path and then the open gate into another field which had been available all the time.  I don’t understand why every pony had a thing about the mud. They know about it and they used to go into the other field frequently.  But suddenly they had told themselves they couldn’t move and they were stuck, possibly forever.

Who knows what goes through the minds of these ponies. It wasn’t exactly rocket science.

My suspicion is that Vitamin, who has always been suspicious of mud ever since Tiddles fell in the sink-hole, refused to move the herd into the other field.  She is their leader.  Just not a very good one.

But once they saw us walking through, they all happily followed and then went bouncing off into the distance.

(Her Maj was also on hand to “help” any tail-end Charlie’s)

Everyone was obviously very relieved they weren’t going to spend the rest of their lives on their homemade island.

There was lots of jumping over the ditches.

And then the playing began.

It was lovely to watch particularly when I remember how they originally were.

It was pretty obvious that Storm was in a particularly good mood.

It does my heart good to see them play and be happy.

The little ones, ie the Shetland pony herd, consist of Minions (six “rescue” ponies) and the two old Shetland mares (the ones who wore the sweaters for the advert) and they all live in two large adjoining fields.

There is, however, one part which is like a little island surrounded by some mud and a wide-ish ditch and for some reason everyone congregates on the island ignoring the other field and pretending they have nothing to eat.

We walked down there with a bag of carrots and everyone instantly mugged poor Flossie!

Of course she was scrupulously fair with her offerings.

Everyone had their fair share.

And then of course there were the individual hugs and tickles to give out too.

And, again, no one was missed out.

It was a funny old morning because BeAnne had decided to come too, which is most unlike her as she is very much a homebody these days.  But jump in the car she did so it seemed mean to say no and tell her to go back home.

Newt was being vile.  While Albie was having a nice-to-see-you-again chat with BeAnne over the fence, Newt bodyslammed Albie and then bit him.

We had words.  Poor Albie.  He didn’t deserve that.  Newt was in a foul mood and even Vitamin told him off.

Silver was, as usual, staying well out of it.

Floss told Vitamin well done and to keep on top of Newt’s behaviour.  It was not good.

As we left, we realised we were being followed.

More tomorrow.

To be continued……/

Ok, for those of you who wondered, here is the wabbit from yesterday. You can tell it is a wabbit because of the slightly different coloured landscape (my camera-phone is prehistoric so possibly not the best).  You get the gist.

Meanwhile back in my real world (whatever that is) …..

Brá was channelling her inner derp.

Brá is the only horse I know who sees a camera and sticks her tongue out.  With me, she is always very serious – a sensitive lady when we talk.

But Brá has always been complicated.  We have an agreement.  If I need to catch her, I can.  There is usually a carrot involvement but she knows I take no prisoners and so we have to trust each other.  Never go unprepared.  That is all I will say.  I set Brá up to succeed so we can both win.  Failure only brings an argument along with resentment and that is never a good option.  No one else can catch or get near Brá which makes me think we must have some kind of relationship.

The other two ladies are easy.  Wave a carrot about and both mother and daughter come running.

I think it is a family thing.

That afternoon, the Autumn Shetland light was fantastic.

I took a couple of interesting (f-artistic) photos of Hetja.

Although Brá has lived with us for a few years now, I doubt I will ever fully understand her.

We had a storm last night – wind, rain, the whole kit and kaboodle. BeAnne woke up terrified and miserable so I lugged her into my bed whereupon she shook and panted.  I sprayed my lavender pillow mist about, stuck on the radio and hugged her little shaking panting self until she went back to sleep.

I think BeAnne still remembers her night outside a few years back when she was lost and alone in a terrible storm.

The weather gradually cleared over the day and I needed some fresh air.  I had been fighting with Garageband all morning trying to learn how it works.

So….. does anyone want to come for a walk with me?

Ok, off we go.

BeAnne, you can lead the way.

Oh, hello ‘Ster.  No I don’t bring carrots on my walks.

Careful when we get to the road, chaps.  Let’s all remember to stay safe, listen and think.

Everyone following?

No, no, we don’t stop just because we’ve taken a left turn.

‘Bert – what are you doing?  No good will come of trying to follow the hill sheep.  You know it only leads to misery and starvation.

Say nothing.  There’s a rabbit very well camouflaged.  BeAnne didn’t see it and the rabbit was not going to say anything.

Aww, Lambie, you still love your little canine Mum, don’t you?

Ok, so we’ve reached our destination and we all touch the gate to prove we got there.

All except Lambie.

We admire the beautiful view and remember how lucky we are to live in such an amazing place.

And then we all turn around and go home again.

That’s how it is on my dog-sheep walks.  Back to my Garageband masterclasses after my fresh air. I am glad I got out for a while.