The mud is getting too much at home for Albie and Newt, the little rescue Shetland ponies, so we moved the little boys over to Leradale.

Firstly, however, they had to walk through the field where the Icelandic horse foals live with their mothers.  Dreki was fascinated to see the “little peoples”.

Once through the gate, the Minions, who were the other side of the valley, cantered over to say hello to their long-lost friends.  They had spent Summer together so they did all know each other.

The re-introductions started. 

Newt and his Nuncle Storm (naw!)

Meanwhile, Delia dragged me off to her hut to be fed. 

Everyone took an interest in the newbies.

I love this photo – all my Minions together.  These are my little boys who I love, who need me and who I am responsible for (sniff ** may have had gin ** sniff).

Newt and Albie were very happy.

However, Dreki was very sad he was the wrong side of the fence.

Everyone was in a very gallopy mood.

Little bottoms flying (while Delia remained with her head in her bucket)

Dreki refused to be left behind.

Sensing the excitement, he went galloped around his field, trying to talk to them.

Once Delia finished her bucket, we let the others clean up.

Newt seemed very taken with Silver.

Games are good
Funny little boys.

Albie tried his best.  He spent last winter with Delia.

It was lovely to see everyone trying to make friends.

I adore this photo!  Says it all, really.

Poor Dreki felt very left out.  He would give anything to be a Minion.   

So that’s Albie and Newt moved.  I have always wanted all the Minions at Leradale together.

How it should be.

We have started to feed Delia daily now.  I just don’t want her to get any thinner than this.  It falls off her, this time of year, so very easily (lucky cow!)

Anywho, she knows the drill, see the bucket and follow the bucket. I feel I take my life into my own hands carrying this out.

In Leradale, there is a cosy little shed (sans roof) that is proving a very useful place to feed Delia.A bit back-breaking to get in and out of, but I manage.

We are quickly surrounded.

OH fashioned a gate thing to keep the predators out.

So the predators just circle the shed and making wanting faces at Delia and I.

Oh, how the poor starved suffer.

I can read their thoughts. 

It’s not difficult.

 

But Tiddles is sensible. He chatted up Daisy first in case she just happened to have a carrot about her person, like you do.

The wall is probably eighteen inches high but the ponies haven’t jumped down.  They know what Delia would do to them.

It’s a full time job, all this wanting.

These poor starving ponies live in a huge field with grass everywhere.

Plenty, plenty grass.  How they suffer so.

Once Delia has finished her grub, she barges her way out.

Notice how Storm is first in to check for leftovers – there were none.

 

For as long as Delia wants to flatten me for her daily bucket of Golden Paste (a turmeric mixture) and conditioning cubes, and can keep the weight on over winter, then all is good.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Delia’s enthusiasm for food is her reason to live.  I can relate to that.

 

 

I haven’t been to the annual Shetland craft far or a while so I thought I would pop by.

There was a huge variety of stalls offering a wide range of amazing crafts.

Basically, my task was do some Christmas shopping.

I succeeded on a few things but really I just saw stuff I wanted for me.  Just me.  No one else.  Like this terrier.

The fried egg plates (swoon) and the beautiful wild egg plates (OMG! – want, want, want). 

Everyone was crafting.  Gloves – can I have too many?  I particularly wanted the one on the model hand.  Loving the striped cuffs.

Lots of useful stuff. 

There was a good Christmas feel and theme.

These clever puffins caught my eye.

Fair Isle clothes pegs – who knew?

These wall pieces were incredible.

Wow!

Being Shetland, there was knitting.

And weaving.

Shetland folk are so clever. 

These nip glasses were wonderful. I seriously hankered after just one.

There could’ve been more of a sheep theme going on, but perhaps it was good this picture was already sold – I may have no more actual hanging space for any pictures.  Ceilings?  Can you put pictures on ceilings?

Chocolate with gin – all my favourite food groups.  Nuff said.

Beautiful Hardanger fiddles – a traditional eight string instrument that originates from Norway.

Exquisitely decorated and played beautifully.  I stayed and listened.

So much to look at.

Wow – this picture is just wow! 

This tree made me smile.  Perfect for the minimalist Christmas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Awesome Fair Isle. I need those Fair Isle socks and maybe the gloves with the matching hat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I adored this pony, though I have fields of the buggers. I don’t need another one (I told myself).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Naturally dyed wool – and I am going to have a card weaving lesson!

We all wanted something.

 

There was just so much to want.

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, one week on, how are we all getting on? 

Was this the right decision – to take Puzzah, castrate him and let him live with the others (who were already a very happy settled little family)?

Well, so far, I can honestly say Puzzah has been nothing but a gentleman.  He has perfect manners, comes when he is called and is good around the others. 

 

 

 

 

It is lovely to see Puzzah change, trust and develop.

We have all settled into a good routine – in the morning I open up a field where they eat their breakfast.

They then stay in their field for the rest of the day while cars and people come and go so if the gate gets left open, then it doesn’t matter.  No one can escape into the hill.

Then, in the afternoon, once we are closing down for the evening, I open the gate and everyone comes in around the house.

Puzzah is learning that I want to talk to him.

This is all new to him – to be a pet.

He knows his name.  He comes when he is called.

It is important he learns that there is more to being a sheep.

I think he is getting it. This is the first time I have sat down with him – seriously, this is not to be advised with a butty rammy sheep.

 

And now Puzzah eats carrots.

It has taken a while – a whole week – for him to know what a carrot is, let alone eat it.

I think he has got the plot now.

 

 

Carrots are the new biscuits in this house (only for sheep, mind).

 

 

 

 

So I am hugely pleased with Puzzah’s progress.

One of us! One of us!

I think this was the right decision.  He’s a dude.

Two small Icelandic horse foals, Dreki and Lilja, are really rather smitten with their Shetland pony neighbours in the next door field.

That would be the Minions (minus Albie and Newt) plus the old ladies – Vitamin, Delia and Fivla.

Any minute the foals can manage to escape their mothers, Hetja and Brá, they both come a-wandering down to the dividing fence for a chat.

I guess this is the first time in their lives that they have ever met other equines, now I think about it.  They had no contact with the others when they lived at Thordale.

May the Gods help them then!

Some are better examples of good behaviour than others (*** cough *** that would not be Storm then!)

Dreki is quite smitten with the Shetland girls.

Funnily enough it was Vitamin he wanted to talk to most.

She won’t take any bad manners.  Of course no one else is helping – noseys through the wire.  Not good.

Little foals must know their place.

They will soon be told when they overstep the mark.

I don’t want to put up electric wire but if the fence starts to get ruined, then I will have no choice.  I hate electric fences and foals.  Not a good combination.  Failing that I will take the Shetland girls out, and chuck them all in together.  Hetja loathes Shetland ponies with a passion and I don’t want to subject them to her loathing. The Minions know Hetja well and can stay out of her way.

I am hopeful they will all soon get bored of each other. 

The grass in the Shetland pony field is up the hill and by hanging around to talk to the foals, they will be starving themselves. 

No self respecting Shetland pony would ever do that for very long.