I felt sorry for my two little ones this morning so I let them have a day around the house.

Elvis, the chicken, babysat them for me.

Elvis in her Vegas era!  Our Elvis is very old.  At least double figures.

Anywho, Newt and Albie were happily munching the sheeples’ silage and it is good that someone eats it as the sheep like it freshly hand-plucked from the bale, lightly drizzled where they want it, take one mouthful, announce it has been on the floor or a chicken sat in it and then leave it.

Albie and Newt are not that fussy.

The big boys remained in their mud happily arguing over every last bit of food.

Afterwards they parked up on the hard shoulder for a bit of shut-eye!

I secretly love having the little ones around the house (outside, preferably) but I don’t trust the sheep very much.

Puzzah has weaponry and can sometimes interpret friendly interest the wrong way.

Tonight I put the Albie and Newt into a little paddock with their very own silage, water and shed where they will be safe. I think it is nice to give them some time off from all this endless mud.

(I love this photo – ‘Bert looks like Puzzah’s minder!)

Meanwhile, it has been declared that Lambie is looking a bit thin so daily rations have been increased.  He was thrilled to hear this and has been following me around all day begging.

Is it just me or does anyone else think he looks a bit like Blue Ivy Carter at the Grammy’s when she shushed her parents, Beyoncé and Jay Z?

Same look!

Once inside, Newt is very keen on his daily bucket of food.

I had just taken off Newt’s rug as today has been glorious by Shetland winter standards so he is all floofy and ruffled up.

We bring them in to eat their hard feed two at a time.  Newt usually comes in with Efstur who is a model citizen.  You just call Efstur, open the gate and off he takes himself to his bucket, eats the contents and would probably put himself back out again, if asked nicely.

Newt, on the other hoof, shuffles in, probably grumbling to himself.  Finds a bucket and tries to get into it – hence me holding it.  Yesterday Efstur stood to one side while Newt helped himself.

I measured Newt today – he hasn’t been measured for a while.  28 whole inches of unhelpful ingratitude.

Me:  Come on Newt.  You’ve finished now – time to go back out.
Newt:  (in Russian) – Nyet (het)

So using all my horsemanship skills (I took the empty bucket with me and he followed thinking I would refill it).

Me:  Newt, you have to go outside.
Newt:  Nyet, absolute nyet.

So I asked for help because Nyet ain’t budging and for a small chap, he can’t half not move.  He leans backwards!

Anyway, with the help of Daisy, we succeeded and then threw everyone out into the big field.  Ok, they have to get through the mud but on the other side of the stream is a large green hill.

Anyway, 28″ of Nyet may well be changed to “Da” to see if has any effect on his character.  Every day Newt says Nyet!

Over at Leradale, I am holding onto Hetja while Daisy feeds the foals and Brá.

Afterwards, Hetja gets to “wash up” the empty buckets plus a large carrot for her patience and for not being pushy.  She is a good girl and perhaps realises that she does not need extra food.

When the foals have finished, Daisy holds Brá’s bucket for her because they think they should now have Mum’s food too.  It would not be good for the little ones.  They have Mare and Foal mix while Brá has a mixture of conditioning cubes, sugar beet and mix.  Different food for different needs.

Afterwards, I went down to see the Minions, to give them their statutory half carrot and to remind them it has been four years.

Four years since this blog post when the three original Minions came into my life.

(Storm perfecting his innocent waif look)

Of course, he instantly gave me his cheeky grin – probably worried the wind might change and he would be stuck looking pathetic!

Four eventful years!  These little boys have totally changed my life and me, inside – in a good way, I hope.   Seeing the Minions today, and giving them their daily hug/carrot is the best therapy after the past few days.

(Oh, Storm, why can’t you just be nice like everyone else?  Poor Waffle.)

I have spent today in a dwaam.

“dwaam. n – a faint or senseless state” – John J Graham’s Shetland Dictionary.

I can’t seem to get my head around what has happened so I am sharing some more arty-farty photos I have been working on…….

Hetja and Lilja

Majestic Hetja

Little Lilja

Mother and daughter

Itchy daughter (why are foals always so itchy?)

Why, mother, why?

So they can be beautiful ladies when they grow up.

The newly arrived Dreki and Brá.

Statuesque Hetja and Lilja

Spindly young legs

Trying to work out this leg thing

My greatest sadness – Lilja lost her ginger tufty lug linings

The determination of Dreki, the Dragon.

I hope you like the photos and thank you for all your messages of support.  They mean so much. xx

I don’t know what to say.  I am numb.

Wu died last night at the vets.

We had noticed over the weekend that he had lost weight and was not himself. He went to the vet yesterday, had a splenectomy (they found a enlarged spleen and liver ? cancer ? on x-ray).  He died post-op.

Rest in Peace Wussums.  You were loved and there is a gaping hole in our lives now.

I miss him and don’t see him anymore where he should be.

Life seems very unfair and death even more so.

He was only 11 years old.