Recently poor Ted has been in the wars.  He is now under house arrest, no walks and life with a buster collar, a hind foot boot, as well as two hourly eye drops (for his existing dry eye condition).

OH noticed on yesterday’s dog walk that Ted was holding up his back leg more than usual (it’s a terrier thing walking occasionally on three legs).

Upon closer examination, we discovered that Ted had sliced off a good chunk of the pad on his back paw.  Ouch.  Horrid for Ted.  We have no idea how he did this.

As it was nice and clean, and Ted didn’t seem at all distressed by this turn of events, I phoned the vets who said to clean it up, put a dressing on and it should heal.  So we did that, borrowing a very useful foot boot too.

Luckily, I have a very large first aid kit that basically consists of everything, including sticky hydrocolloid dressings, which are proving very useful.  Micropore sticky tape is also helpful in this case.

Ted is very good about all of this.  The buster collar is to stop him trying to get the boot off and I think is a slightly kinder version of the lampshade version.   At night, the boot comes off to let his paw air a bit.

And Ted is being a stoic.  He is the perfect patient who is pretty good about the dressing and is not that sad about the lack of dog-walks for the time being.

Obviously there is a treat as reward for every ministration so it is worth it.

With all this nursing, I hope Ted’s paw heals quickly and cleanly.

Not much is happening here today.  Just the same old, same old and that’s exactly how I like it. I am never good with change.

OH and I did the morning animal chores accompanied by various sheep or dogs, depending on what needed doing.

While Gussie and Dahlia were eating the precious hay bale, I went over the hill (scattald) to feed the Icelandics.  The torrential from yesterday had finished and everyone was beginning to dry out.

Everyone was very wet but looking ok, so I was not worried and it was warm too.

However, the duck situation is not great.  Duck Wars have begun again – tis the season – between all the males over possibly not enough females, while OH and I diligently try to collect all the eggs that are laid, trying not to let any get to hatching stage.  I am planning on making lots of cakes.

We have decided on no more ducks, please.  I may have to find homes.  I have been holding off on that decision.  If only they would stop fighting.

So not much is going on really and I want it to stay that way.  My routine, my world.  It is not exciting by choice.

Everyone should just keep pottering along like I want.

It is raining hard and everyone said they didn’t want to go outside.  I honestly don’t blame them. It is not nice out there.  Fivla took up residence in Dahlia and Gussie’s shed.  I don’t think the sheep minded very much – they are both tough hill sheep.

And the rest of the flock were all looking a miserable in their shed so I gave them some hay to eat, which was very gratefully received.

I was actually meant to be on a dog-walk but no one wanted to go – Ted had long since let himself back into the house via the catflap and gone to bed but Pepper helped me do my chores. Afterwards I sat down in the sheep-shed.

Instantly, I had a visitor – Maggie, who never left my side again.

She just wanted to be scratched and kissed on the nose.  It was a bit like kissing a wool sweater! And if I stopped, she would paw me to get me to keep going.

Everyone came over in turns except for Lambie, Barrel and Madge.

Lambie never once acknowledged my presence.

But Edna lay down beside me, while Maggie tried to eat my hair (and, yes, that hurts a lot).

This is the closest Madge has ever voluntarily been to me while I have been sat.

Bert also sat down beside me.

And went to sleep….. while I sang to him.

There is something very peaceful about sitting with sheep, apart from Maggie who is always poking me with her hoof wanting attention.  Lambie never came to say hello once.

And Pepper just stayed close by and waited.

I can’t understand how little the Shetland ponies can live off.  It is basically fresh air.

Their field upsets me now. There is nothing in it. If I saw this, I would report it to the authorities, desperate that they should do something for the poor, poor ponies who live there.  My ponies. My field and this is what is needed to get them to a) stay alive and b) possibly lose some weight.  This is on veterinary instruction too.

(Newt is only slightly bigger than the poo pile! – I clear up daily so at least the field is “clean”.)

The Shetland ponies only have access to this field for six hours a day.

By 3 p.m., they are all waiting by the gate asking to come into the paddock for something to eat.  A bowl of nothing and then a specific amount of soaked hay.

And apparently this is all a Shetland pony needs to live off for 24 hours.  I never thought I would keep ponies like this but here I am realising it is the only way to keep them alive and, God forbid, even healthy.

I am also trying to open up a small part of the track so they can live on it in Spring/Summer but not get laminitis.  Rather than give them the whole track, they get a new section of almost nothing once a week.

This is the next section.  If they can get fat on that, then I give up.  I am suprisingly staying strong!

It was windy today – a spring equinoctal gale, which apparently is not a thing but I can tell you it was very windy.  Along with my trusted companion (*** cough ***, yer right – tis the season for buggering off after rabbits when she thinks no one is watching), I struggled with my three buckets across the hill to feed the Icelandic horses.

I watched while “Trusted Companion” did her usual clearing up.

I decided to let everyone brave the gale and oncoming rain without rugs as they are all hairy and fat enough.  Even Iacs.

However, I did rug up Fivla and Vitamoobag because there is less shelter where they are and they get very miserable in bad weather.

Later on, when I was outside, I couldn’t find them anywhere and was pleased to see them in this paddock as so far they have refused to go near it.

The rain had started and it was unforgiving but the rugs did their job and when I brought the old ladies inside later in the afternoon, I found they were completely bone-dry underneath.  I also think that by rugging up Vitamin and Fivla they felt more like eating rather than standing around looking unhappy.

And it is nice and warm inside, apparently.