Sadly, I found Perdy dead this morning.  I feel awful, responsible and useless.

So I took Pongo back to the kitchen.  He was very cold and, after some very useful advice from a friend-who-knows-lambing, I put him in the bottom oven of my Rayburn.  For those that don’t know, a Rayburn is a poor-man’s Aga.

After an initial warming-up, Pongo rallied and was transferred to his box with Staff Nurse BeAnne on stand-by. Either that or she was gathering mint and roast potatoes (we have had words).

There has been some serious getting-to-know-you and BeAnne is chaperoned at all times.

I trust BeAnne about as far as I can spit a rat.

Pongo’s Mum is in the shed. I still force-feed her porridge, honey and water gloop but I am not holding my breath.  She has that look of one who is waiting to die.

So all my efforts are being spent on keeping Pongo alive and I hope that S/N Duvet will do her bit.

Loki spends his day saying “there is no lamb, there is no lamb”. Funnily enough,  I trust him more than BeAnne.

I went over to Sandness (4 miles away) just to quickly check my mares.  En route I saw two Bonxies (Great Skuas – Stercoriarus skua) standing beside a hill ewe and her dead lamb.  You could see what they had in mind.  These are known as “pirates” of the bird world and I told myself myself this is how it is in the scattald.

So, back to Pongo.  He talks to me and I am willing him to live.  Perdy died, probably, of watery mouth – lack of colostrum when it mattered.   There was nothing I could do but there is are the what-ifs going through my head.

Later today, with BeAnne.

So healing vibes, living-thoughts, for Pongo. He is a darling and I am doing my very best.

Sheeps – update

Last night, Mum tried to smother her bebbies by plopping down and lying on them.

Incensed, after all my efforts, I picked up the twins, shoved them into a box and took them home leaving Mum to rot in hell.  Her blatant neglect and disregard was unworthy of such lovely little bebbies.

They spent the night in my sitting room, in a box, in front of the fire where they warmed up and were fed.

This morning, I received a message saying Mum was on top form, had milk flowing and was ready to have her bebbies back.  Being a realist, I could see my lambies were far better off with their mum than with me so I returned them, hoping for the best.

I found Mum standing up and I pushed her lambs towards her and left them to it as all was looking good (no rejection – they needed peace and quiet together to rebond).

I bloody wish.  I returned a few hours later to find the bebbies wandering about starving and Mum looking pretty vacant.  So, back to the intensive nursing duties.

Mum was put in the back of my car, the bebbies were back in their box and I drove them all home and put them in my small shed – it made more sense.  Everyone nearby to be helped.

So, Mum is still having porridge with honey while bebbies are fed every 2-4 hours and I hope they are sucking off their Mum, though I am not holding my breath as she doesn’t stand up much.

Call me mad.  Yes, I know.  But they need help and I can’t walk away.  That is just not me.

Meanwhile, outside it is cold, winter is trying to return and I am neglecting my lot.

To make up for it, I gave them a bale of silage and no one looks like they are suffering.

Except for Haakon who is trying to pretend he needs more food while he starves by his bucket(s).

When it comes to fat Icelandic horses who have everything, my heart is hardened to ice.

Today, I woke up to this.

And then an urgent message to go over to my neighbour to help him with twin Shetland lambs that had arrived and the mother had no milk.  He had to go to work so, with the help of another more experienced neighbour, I was shown how to bottle feed day-old lambs.

When I told my OH, his first reaction was “oh no” and then “Do Not Name Them”.

So, this is Pongo.  He is the smaller of the two and prone to be covered in his mother’s liquid diarrhoea.

(then cleaned up by me)

And this is Perdy.  She is much stronger.

Mother is pouring out green smelly slurry everywhere and I am wearing most of it.  I don’t like being near myself at the moment.

I am syringing porridge with honey down her and she is eating her own food better now – fresh hay and soaked sugar beet.  She will probably die in a few days because that is what sheep do best.

I bottle feed the bebbies (yes, bebbies!) every few hours and they are also trying to get milk from their mother when she stands up.

So that is what I have been doing today.  Doing my best to keep this little family alive.

Also, please can I have all your prayers and thoughts for my friends and “daughter” in Nepal.  I have heard, so far, they are alive but that is all I know.

I am trying to free up some space on my ‘puter.  It is, as ever, full of photos and 99% are rubbish and not worth keeping.

So, with the best of intentions, I look through roughly 1000 photos a day, deleting the majority of them, setting aside some and then going through that pile and deleting some more.  Being ruthless leaves me with about 30 photos worth keeping.

The criteria for the majority of the kept photos is that they must make me smile….

(aww, remember Ping-Pong and his bezzie, Hammy – I miss those twerps so much!)

Or look incredible (either human or equine)….

Or just be beautiful in their own unique way.

And then, while looking, I realised my life is full of weird looking animals.

Doing strange things (BeAnne is training Storm to tickle her tummy).

I don’t suppose I am ever going to be a normal waiting-to-be-discovered-by-National Geographic-Getty-Images type of photographer.

(look how tiny Storm is in comparison to the other fat bottoms!)

But I can live with this as I don’t think those photographers see what I see.

And they don’t have, in their grasp, the most beautiful subjects.

If slightly grubby and soggy at times.

Lucky me.

Here are some photos on my way to see the ladies in Sandness….

(even the daily lambie pic for those that want a gratuitous Ah!)

You may be aware that a few days ago, I introduced three 4 year old Shetland mares to Hetja and Esja’s field.  Hetja was becoming increasingly bored of Esja’s constant nagging to play.

It seems the plan worked.  Esja had happily bonded with the Shetland mares and Hetja was allowed to be by herself.

I check Hetja every day (if I can) and ask her how she and her baby are coming along.  She is doing well and I think appreciates the attention and the carrot.  I must remember to take my coconut oil with me and give her a good brush.

Hetja will be a wonderful mother.  Pregnancy suits her – she has very kind eyes.  Understanding.

I am sure she is happier now the pressure is off as Esja’s one and only friend.

Esja has more girls of her own age to talk to.

They can all dance around their handbags together…..

Or hang around the Mall, scream at Justin Bieber, text each other even though they are standing side by side or whatever it is that “The Young” do!

Esja is such a teenager.  Attention seeking and stroppy!