The pregnant ladies have been moved to a new field. The time has come.

Efstur is now officially weaned and Hjalti is still his best friend.  He will now get a mug of hard feed to make up for his lack of Muzzah!  He didn’t seem too upset.  Brá never looked back.

Making the most of a lull in the fierce winter weather, we left Haakon in charge while we moved ponies about today.

I decided to take all my Shetland ponies out of Sandness to let my fields recover for the Summer.  Needs must.

They have been moved to my two new-to-me fields much nearer to home.

The neighbours seem nice.

There is space and, once Storm has decided which leg he doesn’t want to be lame on, then he and Tiddles will join them.

Those two dark dots in the far distance are Hetja and Brá are in their green field where they can now concentrate on growing their babies.

The fields do adjoin and the whole area is divided into two huge fields – hill for the Shetlands and green pasture for the preggie ladies.

It is perfect.

I think everyone will be very happy here.

The best Shetland pony and Icelandic horse environment.

A natural environment.

So today it was Storm Conor’s turn to give it some welly.

The top gust was 97 mph in Unst (two islands up).  Outside was vile and downright dangerous.

In the morning, during a lull, I managed to get outside, hanging onto the side of the house for support and uprightedness. I got as far as Lambie’s 2nd best bedroom, where I met three “starving” sheeps.  They followed me into the stable where I gave them Lambie’s most favourite food ever – Mare & Youngstock – put out some hay and water, shut the door and left them to it.

Meanwhile, all the horses were outside.  When I went to get the sheep’s hay, the noise in the indoor school was horrendous. The deafening sound of the wind constantly battering was terrifying and exhausting.  We felt that the horses and ponies would definitely be safer outside making their own decisions.

I took this brief film at the height of the storm and, if you look carefully, you will see that barely a mane or tail is moving.  They had strategically placed themselves in the lee of the hill.

Also, note, that the tiny spec of blue rug is Albie.  Newt is using someone bigger to hide behind or under.  They are sensible like that.

This afternoon, once the wind abated a bit, we called the big herd up and opened the stable door.  I spread out a bale of hay, gave some more to the sheep in another shed, made up some haynets for those that remained outside and quickly checked everyone.

Everyone is fine.  Shetland ponies and Icelandic horses are sensible.  They found shelter and waited until the storm stopped.

Thank you for your prayers, vibes and kind thoughts during this ordeal.  Hugely appreciated. Last night I was scared for my family.

This year, one member of the family has completely lost it!

Wu spends most of his days either asleep or lurking under the tree.

The tomte or nisse who live in our tree (nisse (usually Norwegian) and tomte (usually Swedish) are  solitary, mischievous domestic sprites responsible for the protection and welfare of the farmstead and its buildings) are all now doomed.

Wu goes into the tree

and then carefully chooses his victims.

One by one he is picking them off.  Once back on the floor, they are duly eaten.  It isn’t pretty.

Wu is in a playful, if murderous, mood this Christmas.

Anywho, the traditional Christmas yule log has been constructed, thatched and mostly demolished by everyone human.

But this has to be my best Christmas present ever (apart from the thermal wellies, the tofu press and Walt Disney flute playalong music)…..

A beautiful handmade decoration that lives in Pride of Place and will never be put away under the stairs. It will stay where I can see it always – by my desk, where I write this blog.

Whoever you are, thank you.  Perfection in a basket saddle (BeAnne and Fivla).

(we had a bit of a muddle with the envelope/tag/package matching department this year so I am not 100% sure who the sender is.)

I am so thankful BeAnne is still with us. I took this photo this morning after I had unwrapped my Christmas stocking. It fills me with such happiness.

A friend asked me to go out and take some photos of the surrounding stormy seas.

So, having done my horsey/pony chores and suffering a bit from cabin fever, I set out in the car with my camera to the best place I knew – Dale of Walls.

The sea was boiling while the waves were amazing, crashing onto the rocks with immense furiosity

Pretty impressive, eh?

I wasn’t alone.  Apparently wave photography is a national sport in Shetland.

I met two men who were off up the hill to get a better angle for their photographs.  We exchanged pleasantries, agreed we were all mad, ducked when a piece of hard plastic whisked past our heads at a very dangerous level and speed, and then wished each other well for the festivities. (I do hope they got home safely).

I stayed for a little while longer and then I moved off when another car arrived.  It was beginning to resemble Brighton beach!

Off to Sandness to check on the little fatty-four. They were fine and munched the carrots I threw at them, ignoring me.

And then home.  Earlier, we had put everyone in together as Hjalti had managed to get in with the bigger herd (he found a crack in the fence and squozed through).  We thought now was as good a time as any for them to make friends but when I arrived home, I found Hetja had leaned over the fence, ignored the new grass at hoof level and was munching her way through an illegal silage bale.

Bloody mare.

Incandescent with rage (I mean there is a fence between her and the bale which she pushed through), we herded them into the bottom field whereupon Hetja decided she hated all Shetland ponies and started attacking.

Bloody buggering mare.

I don’t like bullies.  Never have, never will.

So we split them all up again.  Hetja, Brá, Efstur and Hjalti are in the miserable, not-got-much-to-eat field (I honestly don’t care) whilst everyone else has everything else.

Pissed off muchly.  That silage bale will probably not be recoverable.

Well, it is a tad feisty out so I relented and opened up the stable for everyone.  No food – just shelter was on offer.

I even had a bit of a sit down while waiting to see who would come in and join us.

Obviously there were my three loyal friends so I spent my time taking arty-farty photos of them while no one else appeared.

Meanwhile, outside, everyone was standing in the storm.  They knew the stable was open.

I mean, seriously, it was vile out there.

But no, they wouldn’t go into a nice warm, dry, quiet stable.  No, why would you?

And still they hunkered down.

This afternoon, having not moved at all, Daisy and I put a bale of hay into the stabe and spread it around.  We called the little ones who immediately went inside and we shut them in.

I drove to Sandness to check on the four who live there – all fine – and I gave them a bag of carrots.

Upon my return, the bigger ones had discovered the shed, so I let them in as well (ie the little ones had first dibs on the hay without being bullied).

So, my theory is that if there is no food in the stable, my ponies and horses would rather be outside in vile weather.

If there is food, then, of course, they will suffer to be indoors.  Oh yes, how they suffer.

Meanwhile, the three loyal best friends went into Lambie’s Bedroom No 2 (no wifi, no radio) where I had put hay for them.

The doors are all open so everyone can come and go.  As I write this, everyone is back outside again.

I give up!  I did try, honestly.