The Routine

Every day Taktur, my 4 year old Icelandic stallion, is fed his own personal mixture of food that will turn him into an even more Handsome Prince (HP).


He is in a field with four other geldings and they are all a very happy little bunch.


First, I prepare his HP food, next I throw a handful of grain into the school to lure the evil stealing chickens away and shut the door on them.  At nearly £20 a bag of food, I am not ruddy well using the HP food as chicken food.


So, I walk over to the horses’ field having left the big Thordale gate open, shout for Taktur and he comes sauntering up, leaving the others behind (I think they have realised now that they don’t have a cat in hell’s chance of being fed as they all look pregnant).


I open the field gate, Taktur walks through and turns round to wait politely while I shut it again.  I always take a head collar but I don’t use it but it is for the “just in case” moments.  Then he walks beside me in open hill (no fences for about a 10 mile radius) and takes himself off to his food bowl.  He is very well behaved.

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Being the good boy that he is, Taktur goes straight to his food and starts eating in his leisurely way, stopping only to be told what a Handsome Prince he is.  Provided is a small vacuum cleaner as well.


Once finished, I let the chickens out to finish the tidying up process.  Taktur is a bit of a mucky eater and tends to spread his food everywhere.  There is only so much a fat terrier can steal, sorry, tidy.


On the way back to Taktur’s field, I put his head collar on because there is trust and there is plain stupidity.  The ritual drink at the stream and he goes back to join his poor hard-done-by friends.


They get a carrot each because apparently they are starving – yer, right. Just look at that suffering.


3 thoughts on “The Routine

  1. linda

    I am so pleased I can offer you the Liebster Award to support your brilliant website I hope you enjoy this historic prize


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