(Firstly, sorry for the appalling quality of photos but the light was quickly going – tis winter in Shetland and good daylight is a luxury)

Albie (yes, you!) is horribly jealous of Little Newbie.

He wants me to make my special Mum-Mum pony noise only for him and no one else.

This is the face of jealousy. It is not pretty. In fact it is destructive.

Little Newbie (Little N) wants desperately to talk to me.

I crouch down and he comes up.

He loves being scratched and tickled.

He instantly melts and goes all soppy.

And then Albie ruins it and says no one can talk to me but him.

And still Little N comes back to talk.

However, some ponies are very keen to meet him.

So, I made the decision and opened the gate.

It was interesting to watch.

Albie instantly took up with Fivla.  He suddenly stopped caring about Tor being his mother.

Tor went to Little N’s rescue.

She tried so hard to keep Tiddles and Storm away – she obviously considered them Not A Good Thing!

Then when they stopped being irritating, Haakon waded in to investigate.

He was intrigued by this new hairy dot in his herd.

Meanwhile Albie was eating with the big boys now.  I had forgotten just how settled he is with everyone.

Tiddles was kind.

He made an effort.

As did Storm.

And then Storm took Little N to one side.

I hope everything will be alright now.

Storm (and Tiddles) will be good mentors.  Little N is very related to Storm so perhaps he recognsied “Family” – said with your best Eye-Talien New Jersey accent please. Yes, I watch The Housewives of New Jersey – don’t judge me!

Meet…….

He doesn’t have a name (well, he has his registered Shetland pony name but it really doesn’t suit him).

He is very, and I mean very, small.  A few inches high.

We brought him home this afternoon.  He had been looking for a home on Facebook.  Like Albie, he is a colt (that will be remedied in the spring).

We fed Albie his tea first and then let them meet up in a small paddock.

I have always thought Albie was a small little squirt but this pony is even smaller.

He has lived on his own for the past two months, but he is desperate to make friends with Albie.

I stood and watched them together while Daisy went and fetched Tor.  Albie hates being away from his surrogate mother.

Once Tor arrived, things calmed down a bit.

(I told you, he is tiny)

Tor took an interest in this new little boy.

We stood and watched them all talk.

The tables turned.  Albie was the dominant one.  He behaved like Camus did to him when they first met.

“Keep away from my Mum” – he kept saying to our newbie.

I thought Albie would behave better than that but perhaps it needs to be said.  There is the hierarchy.

Tor and Albie grazed (almost frantically) with their heads pressed up against each other.  It wasn’t a calm moment.  Most odd.

Little Thing won’t let me talk to him.  He did arrive with a headcollar on (I think it had been on for a couple of weeks), and probably by taking it off we won’t get near him for a while but I am not a fan of ponies wearing them in the field.

Most importantly, he needs to remember how to be a pony.

And then we will get to know him and he will be another Minion.

And then there will be no more.  We are full now.

So, please name suggestions – remember tiny – and lots of vibes for him.  He needs to tame down and for everyone to love him.

My turn to go and see my little herd of Shetland ponies in Sandness.

En route, I passed the hill ponies.

These are the ponies that will spend their winter on the scattald (hill grazing).

On arrival, I quickly realised I had forgotten something.

I hardly dared tell them.

I was very tempted just to stay in the car and count legs but I had to take responsibility and own up.

I had forgotten the carrots!

“What?  Seriously?  You forgot?”

And suddenly I was the most unpopular person there.

I was surprised anyone wanted to talk to me, to be honest.

That was a look of steely determination from Waffle.  He wanted his carrots.

But, and I have said it before and I will say it again, everyone is fatty, fat, fat!  Yes, Vitamin, even you!

So they walked off in disgust.

I managed a few snaps while I was there.

And I promised my little herd that tomorrow they can have double rations.

“Double rations, you say?”

“Just make sure you do”.

Yes, Waffle, I promise.

I drove home feeling guilty.

(Note-to-self, put a bag of carrots in the car for tomorrow’s visit or there will be trouble)

This is a Flashback Friday blog.

Fatsworth, originally Chatsworth (or Chattie), was very special.  We rescued him from the Cats’ Protection League many years ago.

Originally, he was apparently found a-wandering with a horrid collar indentation in a residential area of Lerwick where there was a good Fish shop.  He was about 6 months’ old when he came to us and we never put another collar on him again.  He loved talking (hence his name – Chattie) chips and I would bring him home any lunch-spares when we went to Lerwick.  Chips were better than fish.  That explained so much.

Fatsworth was a character.

He ruled the house and we loved him for it.  No one ever doubted this fact.

Next the world.  It seemed an obvious progression.

He was never horrible to the dogs, just told them how it would be.

And they believed him.

I mean, why wouldn’t you?

Fatsworth was as wide as he was tall.

For a cat that lived mainly on nature’s buffet trolley, he managed to pack it all in.

This was his preferred method of sleeping.

We used to say he was “Closed for Business”.

Wherever you went, you would always be accompanied by a singing Fatsworth.  He talked while he walked while he didn’t tread on the ground!  His talent.

We all miss him more than words.

He was a wonderful character and taken from us far too early.  There was nothing we could do.

So a Flashback Friday for Chattie.  He used to love a Christmas tree – he would sit in wait underneath and then go for the attack under the cloak of tree!  None were safe and none would pass.

He was a sod, but he was our sod.

(yes, I even put him my handbag to see if he could fit – and yes, of course he could!  Did he mind?  Nah!  It was just another receptacle for world domination.)

Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends.  I hope you have a wonderful day with your friends and family and I am thankful that you are my friends and care about all of us at Thordale.

Here is Mr Twizzler, my “pet” turkey listening to the classical music on the radio.  He was a dude and used to follow me everywhere around the croft like a recalcitrant Dalek.

Notice how he “sings” along in key to the music but stops when the presenter or adverts talk. 

A dear boy. Much missed.  He was a good turkey.

This morning, I spent my day cleaning the house and I mean clean.  A wax-on, wax-off type of clean as we have visitors for the next few days.

(I hope they notice, just sayin’!)

And then in the afternoon, I pottered off to Turriefield leaving Daisy to walk the dogs and feed Albie.

I enjoy my work. It is voluntary and one of the highlights of my week.

I am she-who-weighs-and-bags.  I like to be accurate (800g is what I was aiming for).  I have a list with instructions.

I started with carrots

And then moved onto “tatties”.

We all work very hard and stay until the work is done.

I strongly believe that, even if you are a volunteer, it is a “three line whip” situation (ie, you turn up no matter what) and you give your time for as long as it is needed.  If  I say I will do something, I do it.  I never think I won’t turn up.  Folk are relying on me and to be honest, I love doing it, though I have a yearning to turn over the bags like they do in old-fashioned greengrocers!

I take pleasure in choosing the croft-grown vegetables and making sure the weights are correct – it is my obsession.

So, happy Thanksgiving everyone xx