This afternoon a small little face was telling me it was time to go and poo-pick the field, albeit in a high wind, but at least the sun was shining.  Rain is forecast later.

Newt was in a silly mood following me and my bucket around, giggling to himself and cantering about.  I couldn’t take photos as rubber gloves don’t work with an iPhone screen but he made me smile and wonder what on earth was he thinking.

And then, as I reached the far end of the track, I called the ponies over wondering if they would bother.

It was like a miniature version of the Grand National with the little boys galloping over, all the way to other side of their track. I love how they use it for racing.  This is their exercise.

And then suddenly it was heads down and all about finding grass to eat (good luck with that, I told myself).

Pepper, who always comes with me, and I walked home down the unused bit of the track of knee-high lush grass (over my dead body do they get this), switching on the electric fence on our way out.  This track, although working well, is hard work.