DNA – what does that stand for?

Silver will tell you that it is DeoxyriboNucleic Acid, because he knows these things.

Storm will tell you that it actually stands for “Do Not Ask”.

I was asked for some hair samples (with follicles) from various horses and ponies at Thordale for a research project.

Storm was on the list and he was not impressed.  Not impressed at all.  His tail was not letting cooperating and just broke off so I had to have a few attempts. First, he tried little bucks and then he wound himself up into a furious passion.  He trotted madly round refusing to go near me ever again (he does trot very prettily when he is wound up).  I coaxed him down from his cloud of insanity with a large carrot which he nervously ate while I held it for him like a lollipop.

Then, feeling utterly guilty for creating this awful scenario, I sat down with Storm and he fell asleep resting his head on my hair.

Waffle wandered over and put his nose in my right ear…..

While Tiddles completed the trio with his nose resting on the nape of my neck.

Add two sheep and a dog and you almost have the complete set.

Still, I think we are friends now and I have spent most of today apologising profusely.

So now you know what DNA actually stands for – DO NOT ASK!

The others were absolutely fine about it.  Just Storm because he is emotional and his follicles are speshul!

You have underdogs and now I have under-horses.

A silage bale was put in the big field and I decided to let the under-horses have first dibs – Brá, Les Grandes Dames and The Minions.

This little herd never get first go at any bale as the others (aka Haakon, Iacs, Klaengur, Hetja and Hjalti) always hog it, sleep on it and keep it to themselves until there is nothing left worth eating.  I think I will start letting them eat the bale in shifts.  The Under-Horses can have the bale in the daytime and the Hoggers can have it at night.  Yes, that sounds like a plan that might work.

The under-horses ate and ate and ate until they couldn’t fit anymore in and I was very pleased.  I am glad they had a chance to enjoy the bale without the hassle of being pushed out.

Brá is guarded when it comes to others being near here.  She wants to look after her baby growing inside.  She trusts the Minions and Les Grandes Dames, which is good.

Seeing Brá happily sharing with her new little friends makes me realise that she is settled.

Disgusted with the snow, the Minions came indoors one at a time.

The Minions are not a huge fans of this kind of weather.

There are probably too many memories.

I will let the photos speak for themselves (but of course I will add my own commentary)……

Silver found a haynet, kept quiet and was happily eating it all by himself.

The other three Minions were in the stable munching.

With them was Delia and Vitamin.

I love the way Vitamin stuffs as much hay as she can into her mouth!

I am not saying Vitamin is fat but Vitamin is fat and come spring, she goes to the hill park for slimming.

Delia was on good form and I gave her a nice brush (mane and tail), as well as everyone else.

Then Brá walked in, out of the sleet showers.  She is doing well though I have to be careful as, apparently, she tends to have very large foals.  Brá tells me she would like to eat hard feed 24/7 but I am ignoring this.

I put a horse rug down and sat on the floor amongst everyone.  Immediately, Waffle lay down beside me and nodded off.

Storm stood over me alternately asking for hugs or scratches on his bottom (he has a very itchy bum).  I duly obliged until he suddenly moved nearer, stopped asking and nodded off.  His hot pony breath was lovely.

It was lovely just listening to the sound of munching.  There was lots of munching and it is the best therapy I know for a crap day outside.

Of course, Waffle woke up and had to roll.

And then he came over to me for a hug.  At least it wasn’t sand. I hate wet sand.

Relaxing with my Minions is a good version of heaven.  I thoroughly recommend.

Is this Spring?

Is it on its way?  Are we finally seeing the end of Winter?

The gelding/mare/foal herd ate their way through a large silage bale in less than 3 days!  Slightly horrified, I threw them out into the hill park to search for some grass.  Otherwise, all they do is stand on the silage, pee and pooh on it and then ask me for more food.  This is not happening.

Having said that, this afternoon I felt sorry for the Minions and let them through the gate to be in the Feeding Zone (new word for where there is unlimited silage around the house and in the stable).

I put up a haynet of silage and lots of piles in the stable as well.

The Minions, Les Grandes Dames and The Preggy Lady should have unlimited silage. The Big Ones can go look for it.

Sometimes I think I make my life unnecessarily complicated!

Meanwhile, The Boysenberries are also around the house eating whatever they can find.  As well as everyone else, I worry about my woolly guys and so they have two hard feeds a day as well as silage in their little field at night.  Lambie loves his silage.  It has to be from a fresh bale and must not touch the floor.  Some might say he is fussy!

And still they run after me telling me how starving they are!

(**** sigh **** I think I am an equine/ovine (**amended **) waitress and/or MUG!)

The rugs for the two bigger Minions, Waffle and Silver, arrived yesterday.  They tried them on and then refused to take them off!

They look like soldiers or regimental mascots in their smart, clean (ish) uniform.

(though Silver quickly rolled to personalise his rug).

There is a cold wind outside and these hardy Shetland ponies refused point-blank to go outside.  They all wanted a “duvet day”.

Fair enough, I thought. They had been outside all night and it wasn’t particularly pleasant so I distributed piles of silage and left them to it.

(I did pop my head around the door this afternoon to see them all asleep – awww!)

The two “hardy” Shetland sheep decided to spend their day in their second-best shed.  I caught them eating the hen food!

(Boysenberries!)

And as for The Great Outdoors?  Well you can keep it.  OH moved a quantity of mud off the track to the field which, although is better to walk through, depresses me every time I see it.

The Icelandic horses have taken up permanent residence on Silage Bale Island.  They refuse to move even though there is hill grazing not very far away that they could easily reach.  They don’t have to stand on the bale 24/7.  No, honestly, they don’t.