Well that is ‘Bert now feeling better and back to normal.  Big phew all round. Thank you for all your healing vibes for him.

Have you ever seen three sheep begging for their biccies. These delights are now off the menu as I think they might have been the cause of all the bother.

I am trying my hardest to ignore the “Winning Smiles”.

I am immune.

Truly.

Anywho, here are the last of the photos from our Sunday visitors.

After the foalios, I took them all to the stallion/gelding field.

Everyone instantly noticed Newt, despite Albie standing beautifully.

Newt ruled and enchanted.

He made everyone his servants.

And accepted the adoration.

Albie had a few kisses too.

Those that came up to talk were hugged.

Albie was perhaps a little jealous.

So he “attacked” the photographer.

He tried his best to look cute.

He even tried to listen to instruction.

But mostly he ignored it!

Newt then moved in for “the kill”.

Jean, the photographer, spent time showing Newt her photos.

Of course, he appreciated this.

Meanwhile, Her Maj was now luminous green with jealousy.

Ignore BeAnne at your peril.

Yesterday’s visitors wanted to meet everyone who lives at Thordale.

First up were the two foalios – Lilja and Dreki.

It is good for the little ones to meet people.

Lauren had brought carrots for them and Lilja proudly showed her that she knew what they were and how to eat them.

Dreki still remains highly suspicious of all things carroty and different.

He would politely take them and then spit them out on the ground when he thinks no one is looking – much to Hetja’s disgust.

My little foalios have grown a lot this summer.

As have their mothers.  Hetja and Brá have absolutely no intention of losing their baby weight.  At this stage, I do not believe in diets as they are both nursing their foals and will do all winter.  The weight will drop off them (hopefully) over the winter.

This winter, all the mothers will have is what is in their field.  No extra grub unless they need it and, looking at them, they certainly don’t.

Yes, ladies, you heard.  No extra grub!

Meanwhile, Lauren had now made firm friends with the foalios.

They showed her their nose-kissing skills – part of our foal foundation training.

And the foalios introduced themselves to everyone.

BeAnne was, as usual, very jealous.  She should be the main attraction.  It is probably Her Law.

However, the foals are very pretty.

So how is ‘Bert?

He is, well, going along really.  Not the most brilliant but I think on the way to being a normal sheep.

Today, we have had visitors – we all love visitors.

New fans and faces.

Lambie, with his film star good looks, is on top form.  He follows me everywhere (mostly during feed time, funnily enough) bouncing enthusiastically about.

The sheeples have Golden Paste Co turmeric pellets in their daily feed and I think they are going good.  For every 20kg bag of sheep crunch, I add a 2kg bag of pellets and Lambie has got over himself and munches them happily – huzzah!

‘Bert is still quite aloof but I did manage to talk to him when I was sitting down in their field.  He is wearing Loki’s collar for a while so we can grab him for his daily drench, which he hates and then resents me for.

Today, I bunged them all in the field to be sheep.

“Look Muzzah, I am a sheep – here me roar!”

‘Bert is still chewing cud, so that is a good sign.

Diagnosis?:  Possibly too many biscuits have upset his digestive system and I didn’t realise.  My bad and I have stopped the Rich Tea biccie supply.  Perhaps sheep don’t actually need them. Who knew?

Lambie would disagree but “the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many” (yes, I love Star Trek).

Sorry Lambie.  Suck it up Princess!

Meanwhile, back in people land, the smokehouse was lit this morning after 2 hours of working it out including threading mackeral like Christmas popcorn garlands, moving the stove and generally trying to get the thing to fill up with smoke.

I smell of smoke. I probably resemble a kipper and I check the bloody thing every 30 minutes.

We made the plan many months ago to convert the old (disused) privy into a smokehouse.

My partner-in-crime, Tore, re-roofed the building.  I then “found” an old multifuel stove, oil drum for covering, iron pipe and oven shelves.

Everything was recycled.

There is so much to do.  Yesterday, we were both up to our necks in defrosted salmon that needed filleting and de-pin-boning.  Then the marinade/cure/brine was made.

For the salmon – Juniper berries, salt, sugar and one batch with Glenmorangie and one without.

The icecream boxes are actually ice blocks.

I have been preparing four chickens for smoking.  They have sat in a brine in the fridge (don’t worry they had equal time on both sides).  I spent last night trying to get eggs to float, which is how you know the brine has enough salt.  I also added whole spices – mace, coriander seeds, cumin, cardamon.

We are also going to smoke three blocks of cheddar too (I loved smoked cheese).  My neighbour then kindly gave me “twartree” (two or three) mackeral and, I think, three herring.

So I decided we will smoke them as well.  I have put them in a coriander seed, salt, sugar rub.

Next to wash and dry the fish.

All this preparation is a tremendous frap, if you ask me, but it should be an interesting result, even experiment.

The smoke house will be revved up tomorrow.  Wish us luck.

💨 🔥 💨 🔥 💨 🔥 💨 🔥 💨 🔥 💨 🔥 💨 🔥 💨 🔥

Also, please send your healing ones to ‘Bert. He is not himself.  I don’t know what is wrong but I am worried.

I have spoken to the vet and I drenched him (‘Bert, not the vet!) with wormer yesterday and then today, with a ruminant stimulant.

I need my little smiling Monkey back. He’s not smiling.

While we were offline, apart from learning another language, mastering the piano and cleaning the house from top to bottom, I also spent some time in the field with Albie and Newt only to discover, after a quick furtle, that Newt had grown up.  His errant testicle was sort of there.

I don’t really trust my own diagnosis or abilities and I like a second opinion so we went down and caught the two best friends.

They led nicely out of their field like good boys and we loaded them into the van.

As Albie and Newt were so small, we decided they could comfortably travel together. Apart they would panic as to where the other one was.

And then we drove to the vet’s surgery for a second opinion on my potential furtle discovery.

Albie, who knew he was not in the frame, so to speak, quickly introduced himself and offered his help.

And low and behold, my diagnosis was confirmed.  Newt’s second testicle was apparent, though not fully descended.

After a discussion, our vet agreed that he was prepared to castrate Newt so an appointment was made for the next week.

We drove home, triumphant, and opened the doors.  This is Albie’s talent – he wears a headcollar differently to others.  It’s his thing.

We led them out of the van.

And then home, back into their field.

(A few days later, the operation was a complete success – Huzzah!)