Ragwort.  I hate it.

My Nemesis.  A source of harm or ruin.  Too effing right.

Loathsome, dangerous stuff to horses (and sheep).

I have been battling it unsuccessfully over the years – many, many years especially in my lovely self-contained croft, Clothie.  This croft once had no ragwort at all, not even a hint, until I stupidly had ditches dug to drain the soil better and with that the ragwort seeds that had been lying dormant for years, centuries even, appeared.

As it is still wet on the ground (and above actually), I went over to Clothie with the dogs in the pretence it was a dog walk, and picked a binbagful.

In previous years, I have tried spraying using different specific ragwort pesticides with no visual results except leaving me thinking at times I was only watering it. So this year I am picking it out, roots and all and then it will be burned.

I took my good camera and macro lens to make the resulting back ache worth my while.

Clothie has a spectacular array of wild flowers and it is a very peaceful place.

I realised my dog walk was not a success when I found Loki having a bit of a rest.

BeAnne was busy doing her own thing, though.

And so we went home to our welcome committee who were previously engaged. I am going to try and pull up a bag of ragwort every day, if I can.  I shall add it to my daily to-do list.

A few photos from my travels around the island recently.

Razorbills at Sumburgh Head

Sea pinks (Thrift) on the cliff edge at Sumburgh.

A busy guillemot colony.

Squabbling shalders (oystercatchers to you!)

A Shetland bumblebee (Bombus muscorum).  Lovely little orange chap.

A sundew (my all time favourite hill plant).

Common Butterwort (I had to look that up for you).

Wild Thyme?

Some kind of moss (no idea so I am no thinking I need to buy a good plant book)

Minions enjoying the grass.

I advertised for someone with a metal detector to come and look for buried “treasure” at Thordale.

Obviously he had supervision.

And this is the great Viking hoard that was found!

Just got to pop to the British Museum to get it valued.

I doubt we will be getting rich quick, to be honest but it was fun.

Sorry, not a very inspired blog but my upper back hurts, it is raining and cold.

WHERE IS THE EFFING SUMMER?

Tiddles and Storm spent last night together in the stable while Tiddles got over his anaesthetic.  They were let out in the morning and I put them in a field where Tiddles could recuperate and eat.

However, Storm had other ideas.  He cantered about deliberately annoying Tiddles, showing him that he was fine and he didn’t hurt.  He was trying to get Tiddles to play with him.

Tiddles was appalled at this thought.  It was enough that he could walk without going ow, ow, ow and Storm was really beginning to annoy him (which is a complete turnabout from yesterday pre-op, when he hung onto Storm to the point where the vet thought he was stuck!)

Storm was being A Pest and he had no intention of stopping either.  So I made a quick decision and went and fetched Silver and Waffle to “dilute” Storm’s playfulness.

The Gods were smiling and obviously understood Tiddles’ problem as Waffle and Silver were waiting by their gate and didn’t need asking twice.  They would’ve put on their own headcollars.

Things started a little raucously but everything soon quickly calmed down.

I stayed in their field for a while, just in case, but it was very obvious that everyone just wanted to get down to the task of eating.

Even Storm stopped being a prat and was back to being Tiddles’ BFF again rather than constant irritation!

Lambie and Lambert are doing well, post-op (thank you for asking).  

Poor Lambie has ulcers on his eyes and has twice daily eyedrops.  Healing vibes for Lambie.  It is horrid for him.

Lítið mjúkt nef – Little Soft Nose

Huginn – from Old Norse “thought” – his grandfather is Hugi frá Hafsteinsstöðum

Maybe.

Bjartur: light red, old man’s name

Bjarmi: ray of light, chestnut horse

Gimsteinn: gem stone

Glóinn: the glowing one

Sprækur: lively, energetic

Norðri: from the north

Flugar: wing

Neisti: spark

Flinkur: clever, skillful

Now, I do like that!

Very much.

His name will come.  It will suit him.  We just have to wait until it arrives and then we will know.

(I think you can guess where I spent my morning)

On another note, we are now five testicles less at Thordale.  Tiddles was gelded.  Lambie was successfully castrated but sadly Lambert was not.  He has a retained testicle lurking somewhere so he needs a general anaesthetic and laparotomy.  Hopefully the vets will locate the errant ball and remove it.  All the boys were very good and I am glad it has been done.  A necessity that needed doing.  So fingers crossed for Lambert.  We will attempt this in ten days.

I know, I know, why would I waste my money on a GA for a sheep, but Lambert is Lambie’s best friend and they are my responsibility.  A monorchid sheep is a liability when you live in the middle of the scattald (open hill).  So, it will be done because that is what needs to happen.

So all the boys are walking a bit funny around Thordale today!

I went to see Hetja and Little Himself (still no name) this morning after walking the dogs on the beach.  The dogs understood and stayed out of the field while I went in, only to find Hetja on her own.

Yes, I panicked.

And then I stopped when I saw a pair of little spikey lugs appear.

Little Himself stood up and instantly looked gorgeous.

He had his lunch while Hetja patiently waited for the carrots she knew I would bring.

Every time I see Little Himself, I am blown away with just how perfect he is.  He is wow!

You can see that he is growing his first teefs!  Poor Hetja – I bet she can feel them.

And he is eating grass too – mostly sampling, I think.

After the carrots, Hetja walked off and her son dutifully followed.

Hetja settled down to the important job of eating while Little Himself wanted to look at me….

And think ……

So I sat on the ground and waited to see what would happen.

Joy of joys, Little Himself decided he wanted to talk to me.  I slowly rested on my haunches, put down the camera, stretched out my hand, looked at the ground, rounded my shoulders and I felt this soft, soft velvety nose touch my hand.

There is no nose in this world softer.  It was better than silk, velvet, the finest material.  Just soft and warm and a little tickly.  I looked up and my heart melted even more.

I was officially introduced.

And then he went back to Hetja and I came home feeling very honoured.

Now, what is Icelandic for small soft nose?