A few day’s back I was offered Puzzah (Lambie’s father).

Daisy, Flossie and I went over to see him and we agreed he could come and live at Thordale.

So, today, we went over to fetch Puzzah.

I put some food down for him and I popped a horse’s headcollar on (upsidedown – it works perfectly) to act as a harness.  He is much easier to handle with this on.

Then I went outside to tell the Boyzens that we had a new recruit.

Lambie took it very well, as did ‘Bert but I am not sure about ‘Ster – he has issues and maybe difficult.

Just not today.  I had words with ‘Ster about his attitude and, as my mother would say, “we will see”.

Meanwhile, Puzzah was waiting patiently in the stable. 

He is a dear boy.  We have had a few chats and, like Lambie, he hates carrots but loves hard feed.  The way to his heart.

Puzzah will be getting lots of that and green grass, while it is around.

And then, in the afternoon, the vet arrived and this was what we had been waiting for….

Puzzah had to be fully castrated.  He can’t live here as a ram.  It would not be a wise decision.

So, the offending articles, under masses of local anaesthetic, antibiotics and long-acting painkillers, were duly removed.

Poor lad – but thems are the Terms if he wants to be a Boyzenberry.

It was a successful operation. Puzzah is now happily residing in Lambie’s best bedroom – grass, wifi, radio and hard feed once a day.  The others are in their field – much to their horror and we will do the full “Meet n’ Greet” maybe tomorrow.  We will see.

Anywho, can anyone spot Newt in his new-to-the-herd field?  He is teensy tiny!

While Daisy was having a riding lesson, Flossie was looking after my camera while busy chatting to ‘Bert, who had decided he was in a sociable mood.

Lambie had quickly hidden himself away around the corner having discovered some stacked bales of bedding straw left over from last winter. I think he has made it his mission to personally eat them both, which he will over time.  Last year, he ate cardboard boxes.  This year, it is straw as I have learned my lesson.

‘Bert continued to entertain Flossie.  Silly boy.

He is a funny caddie sheep (not lamb anymore) who is, of them all, probably the most “normal”.  I know my lads very well. They all have very different characters.

Meanwhile, Lambie had left his private straw bale supply and wanted some of the limelight.  Lambie is more like a dog than an actual sheep while ‘Ster has attachment issues.  He hates being by himself and seeks out company whenever he can.

BeAnne was sitting on Bjørn’s knee doing her extra resentful face while Lambie smiled happily for the camera.

Lambie knows how to work the room. 

He has been practising his Winning Smile since Day 1.

So while Daisy rode round and round the school, Flossie was Queen of Sheep(a) for the day.

It is usually my job.  And now I think of it, I don’t have any “normal” sheep or ponies even.  Probably just as well. I wouldn’t know what to do with them anyway.

My turn today to walk the dogs and check the chaps at Leradale so off I traipsed.

When we got there, the ponios were miles away, on the side of the hill where there was no wind.

It was blowey out and they know where best to stand all together in a close huddle.  Shetland ponies are very weather-savvy.

I gave them all the carrots I had in my pockets, breaking them up so everyone had a few pieces.  All fairly shared out.

And then I left them all to get on with my dog walk.  Only I was not alone. I had a follower.  A small soggy hopeful little chap – Storm.

BeAnne (and Loki far away in the distance) and I walked along the side of the hill.

I looked behind me and there were more friends behind me.

My dear little ponios who wanted to accompany me on my dog walk or, more likely, find out if Storm had found more carrots about my person.

Then they all, to a pony, cantered past giggling.

I am sure I heard sniggering.

Delia brought up the rear.  She even cantered which cheered my heart.

There were moments of siliness (Waffle and Silver having a quick bounce on a hillock!)

Every so often, I would be “surrounded”. 

It was a dramatic sky and Waffle did his best to do the noble Shetland pony steed look.   

Onwards and upwards we went and, still, I had my followers.

Always led by Storm.  You have to admire his optimism or perseverance.

After a while, the ponies galloped off and left me to take the dogs home.

I love it when I am followed by friends.  Only friends, please.  No wierdos.

So, while Bjørn rode Haakon leading his new horse, Elvar, and Daisy rode Iacs (aka Mr Bimble), I waited around to see who came home first with, or without, their rider.  It has been known mostly by me.  Last time I did this many years ago, I fell off!

Anyway, you just never know.  Some experiments can go horribly wrong.  Bjørn had asked that Daisy accompany them to help in case something happened.  She also carried a long dressage stick to tickle Elvar’s bottom if he put the brakes on.

Meanwhile little Efstur was hanging round the gate and felt horribly left out.  He is desperate to do “stuff” but is far too young.  We don’t go near them until they are at least a very mature 3 year old but better to be 4.  So Efstur has a while to wait.  He is easy to catch, put on a head collar, lead and pick up his feet as a yearling so he doesn’t need to learn anything more from me.

Far better to be with his friends in the field.  That would be Hjalti, who is at the same place in his training but absolutely no “idiot factor” is tolerated.

The riders were away for a while so Floss and I sat outside with a sandwich and then Flossie went to talk to her Icelandic horse, Klængur, while I pottered about taking photos.

We waited to hear hoofbeats and then three Icelandic horses appeared on our track coming over brow of the hill.

Everyone looked fine, in control, and I think the whole training episode was a success!

Afterwards, Newt went over to Elvar to tell him who was the boss of this herd.

So Elvar knew.

Because it’s important.

To Newt.

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