Thursday 1st April 2004
“’Ere,
Wicky, dye see that?”
“See
what, my dear Treg?”
“Them
rabbits, up there on the Common. I didn’t think we’d see any of them now, after
the fire.”
“That’s
probably the very reason that we can see them, Treg. Normally, the whole Common
is covered with bracken. A whole army of rabbits could hide in it and we’d
never know.”
“Do
they have armies, then, Wick?”
“I
couldn’t say laddie. Probably. I expect they have to
guard their territory from other rabbits who want to move in.”
“I
never hear them marching up and down. You know, ‘left – right – back left –
back right’ and all that.”
“I think you’ll find that they don’t move like that,
Treg. It’s more like ‘left & right – back left & right, etc.’ A sort of
jerky front then jump back motion, don’t you think?”
“If
THEY could hear us now, discussing rabbit gaits. I bet THEY think that we only
talk about eating and stuff.”
“Oh,
I don’t know, Treg. I don’t usually bother with the stuff. Just
the eating, man.”
“I
wonder what an army of rabbits on the move sounds like?”
“They’re
so small, I don’t think you’d hear them at all. That
is, unless you were another rabbit or something. Then they would probably sound
like a lot of stupid bunnies, hopping about in the undergrowth and then bolting
down the nearest hole in the ground if they heard something coming.”
“You
don’t think a rabbit army would be brave, then Wick?”
“To
be honest, Treg, I don’t think about bunnies at all. Ever. That is, unless you want to talk about them and then I
am very kind and patient with you. See. So SHUT UP ABOUT RABBITS!”
“Er, that’s kind and patient, is it, Wick?”
“Aye,
laddie, that’s what it is. Now, do you want to get to know what unkind and
impatient is or shall we stop talking and start eating?”
“But
it’s good to see that they weren’t burnt or anything, isn’t it Wick?”
.”One,
two, thre…..”
“Sorry.
Let’s have supper, shall we?”
“Aye, laddie. Let’s eat!”
Friday 2nd April 2004
It’s
getting more like a nature lesson than a diary, these days. Yesterday it was
rabbits. And today? Well, as we were walking up the
Not
like old Phrank the pheasant. He is growing bolder
and bolder by the day. He now has three ladies whilst poor old Phlynn has none.
Oh, that’s right,
I told you that already, didn’t I? However, I also
told you what a coward he is. Well, he’s not any more. As soon as HE walks up
in the mornings with the buckets for the old boys, Phrank comes right out to greet him and wait for his rolled oats. They were initially
intended for the little birds – the finches, sparrows, blackbirds, and so on
but now he has to give extra handfuls as Phrank and
his three women gobble it up as fast as they can. Phrank has also taken to making that funny ‘oink’ noise
again, while he is eating. I say again, because last year’s pheasants made this
noise too, all the while they were pecking up the seed. When Phrank first (phirst?) made his
appearance this year, he was silent. It is only since he has been courting that
he has taken to oinking.
And
that brings me to my final animal observation. That Amber is getting really
quite friendly these days. Tonight, walking home, she was in her little field
by Drybridge and, when she saw us coming, she let out
a little squeal and ran over to the gate. I walked up to her quietly and we
spent quite a long time rubbing faces and getting to know each other. I could
see HE was still a bit nervous, not knowing what we were going to do. In the
end, HE parted us and gave us both a mint treat before leading me away. I think
if we were let out in a field together we could really have some good running
about fun. It would be nice to have a romp with a youngster after being with my
old boys for so long.
Saturday 3rd April 2004
One
day, a very long time ago, a small filly foal was wandering along the
Throwleigh Lane, crying. She was all alone with no one to comfort her and she
was very , very tired and she was hungry as well. It
was winter and there was very little to eat, along the lane and the fields on
either side of the lane were barred to her by stone walls with hedges built on
them. She had been roaming with her herd, with her mother and aunties, much
earlier in the day when the skies had started to darken. It was far too early
for it to be the coming of night time and there was a strange feeling in the
air that made the herd uneasy. In the distance there were strange rumblings and
a brisk breeze sprung up, making the animals uneasy. The little foal kept very
close to her mother’s side for reassurance and her mother kept turning to make
sure that she was still there. The whole herd had been grazing on the moor, up
above Shilstone, and then had moved slowly down, by
passing Throwleigh and heading west. They had no intention of going along the
lanes but, just as they got to the brook below Shilley,
a loud noise had frightened them and they had run, blindly, to escape the
unknown. The foal had managed to keep up, as her mother had encouraged her and
they had not run too far before the herd leader had
called a halt. They now found themselves facing away from the moor and onto a
part of the countryside that was unfamiliar to them. Mostly the lane was
enclosed by granite walls and then there was a long stretch where it was open
to a steep hillside, covered with dead bracken. There were some paths from the
lane, leading to the top of the hill and some of the young colts were all for
exploring. But the herd leader was firm and lead them all even further westward
in he search of some worthwhile grazing. It was then that it happened. They
were just coming out of the lane to a plateau overlooking a valley when all
hell broke loose. From the hillside came a large explosion of white and then red
fire, a sound like the gods were very angry indeed and a shower of rocks and
earth, hurtling up into the sky before plummeting down to cover the terrified
herd. The horses just broke and ran for their terrified lives, knocking the
filly down in their haste. They avoided trampling on her but she was winded and
could not get up for some minutes, by which time there was not a horse in
sight. The little horse stood, wobbly on her spindly
little legs, and gazed all around her. The explosion from the mine had ceased,
leaving a dark cloud of dust in the air and a strange eerie silence, filling
her ears. Something told her that her family and the rest of the herd had
mainly headed back in an easterly direction and, painfully at first, the little
foal headed back in the direction of the moor. It was after a few moments of
trotting along the lane that her isolation caught up with her, causing her to
cry unseen tears. Horses don’t cry with teardrops as humans do. But that
doesn’t mean that they don’t cry. How terrible to be parted from the comfort of
the herd, let alone from ones family. She was just about to give up and sink
down onto the hard earth when she heard a voice, in the nearby field, call out to her.
“Evening
all”, it said.
She
looked up and ……
“That’s
me, aint it Alli? You made up a story with me in it. How lovely!”
“Load
of rubbish, if you ask me, hardly any mention of eating in it, at all.”
“Go on, Alli. What did I do? Go on!”
“Another time, Treg. We’ll finish it some other
day. Got to go now.”
Sunday 4th April 2004
“Have
you noticed that HE is not bothering to fill our hay nets very often, these
days?”
“Not
really, I’m too busy with my head in my bucket, when HE is here, usually, to
notice anything. I did see that the nets were a bit empty but I thought it was
just you eating them, as usual, Wick.”
“Well,
there may have been a bit of that as well, Treg, but when I do eat it, HE
doesn’t fill it up again.”
“Well,
that’s bad. I’ll have to get Alli to have a word with HIM. I don’t know what HE
expects us to do, eat up all the hay in those piles under the nets?”
“That’s
exactly what it’s about, my man. HE is trying to get us to eat into our
reserves. I don’t know what HE thinks we drop it there for, if not to act as a
buffer supply. I expect HE just thinks that it falls out of our mouths, when we
are eating.”
“Well,
it does, doesn’t it Wick? I know it does when I eat hay. Somehow when I pull a
mouthful out of the net there is always at least as much falls on the floor.
It’s not really stuck together properly, is it?”
“Then
HE comes along and kicks it all up into neat little piles under the nets and
expects us to eat it. How would HE like it if we kicked HIS dinner about and
then expected HIM to eat it?”
“I
don’t think I would like to kick HIS dinner at all. Alli has told me about some
of the disgusting things THEY eat. Can you imagine putting your feet into a
fried egg or a plate of curry? Ugh. Reminds me of wormers!”
“No,
you’re thinking of spaghetti. That’s lots more
like worms, only very long ones.”
“’Ere, Wick. Have you noticed, we
talking about food again.”
“Food? I don’t call that food.
But, I suppose you’re right. Let’s change the subject. Tell me how your Human
Watch is going?”
“A
bit quiet, really, Wick. The trouble is, I am too
effective. Once it gets around that DS Tregony is on the beat, the villains
just give up and go home. We’ve not had a good abduction or bunglery for ages now, Wick.”
“I
think you mean ‘burglary’ Treg, don’t you?”
“Oh
no, Wick. Bunglery it is. We’re in
“But,
that’s good, isn’t it, Treg? I mean, we don’t really want a lot of crime along
the
“Well,
maybe not. But a bit of excitement wouldn’t go amiss, would it?”
“Talking of excitement, Treg. That sounds like
HIS car coming. It’s bucket time again!”
Monday 5th April 2004
It’s
been a strange time lately. I think it’s because the children are on their
Easter holidays. I get so used to seeing them pass my stable on their way to
school and then, again, when I am walking up the
It reminds me of
a time, when I was growing up in
Tuesday 6th April 2004
“In
the general run of things, there’s a lot to be said for it, don’t you think
Treg?”
“Which
part of that sentence do you want me to answer, Wick? You see, the first half,
I don’t understand and the second part, well, why are you being so negative?”
“You’re
very intellectual today, Treg. What’s brought this on?”
“Well,
I get fed up always being the dummy. I’m really very bright, you know. I was
the top colt, in my stable, when I was growing up.”
“That’s
interesting, Treg. I didn’t know that. How many others were there?”
“Ah!
Well, we were a pretty big crowd of horses. There was six geldings, five mares and four filly foals. That’s fourt…,
no sixte…, well counting me, sixteen of us!”
“And
you were the top colt?”
“Like I said, Wick. Don’t try and confuse me. I
know I was because they told me I was. So it must have been true, mustn’t it?”
“Oh,
I believe you, Treg. No doubting it. So, back to my original
question. There is a lot to be said for it, isn’t there?”
“Oh,
a great deal, Wick, certainly. As long as you don’t want me
to say it, that is.”
“Oh no, laddie. No need, no need. Really,
it speaks for itself, does it not. You’d have to admit
that a thing like that needs no further
commendation. It is as it is, and that’s that!”
“Thank
goodness for that, Wick. You don’t get many of them for a penny, these days, do
you?”
“Are
you serious? Of course you don’t. Mind you, you wouldn’t want to, would you. Least said and all that. The
best things in life are free, after all. I can remember when I was a lad….. Or, maybe not. Best we don’t go into that. Not here. Not
now.”
“Or
even ever, eh Wick. Maybe never would be best, I think.”
“I
suppose it all depends. There have been occasions in the past when it might
have been fortuitous. But then, there have also been times when… don’t mention them ..well, let’s just say, ‘there have been other times’.”
“Don’t
you think it’s getting a bit late for this kind of conversation, Wick? You
never can tell at this time of night, can you?”
“You’re
right there, my old lad. Never said a truer word. What
say we put things aside for the time being and go and find a wee bite of
supper?”
“Now
there’s a surprise, coming from you, Wick. But, if you
insist. Lead on McWick, lead on!”
Wednesday 7th April 2004
We
have been looking, every day, for signs that the Common is regenerating and
today we saw it, the first green shoot, about 10 centimetres above the
blackened undergrowth. That’s nine days after the fire. We didn’t see any more
but, what with the rain we’ve had these last few days, it shouldn’t be long
before the Common is green again. I say rain. This evening we had large round
balls of ice for a while. The weather has been a funny mix of cold winds over a
basically warm day. In fact, it’s so warm now, I’m sure I could stay out all
night. Instead, THEY still bring me home at about
Listen
to me. Moan, moan, moan. Well, I’m in a bad mood. I
got into trouble again tonight! THEY came to fetch me right in the middle of a
heavy shower and I was sheltering under that little tree, in the corner of the
Thursday 8th April 2004
It’s
not long ago that HE was saying to me that we should look out for the first
primrose. Now, it’s violets. They seemed to come all of a sudden, this year.
Yesterday there were none and today the bank is full of them.
The
squirrel has joined our little circle now although in a way, he has never been
away. He is not around every day but pops up now and again. We often see him
when we are standing in the field shelter, looking out.
He tends to pass
along the banks of the stream until he gets to the little trees at the
crossing. Then he shoots up them and is away, passing from tree to tree along
the stream and then up and over the road into the little copse at the bottom of
Ramsley Common. That just reminded me of something rather amusing. A few years
ago, HE got the idea that it would be a good idea to have some new hedges in
our field. One down by the two gates to make a narrow entry
into the next field so HE could shut it off, now and again to give the grass a
rest. Another up above the field shelter to act as a wind break (and
also to make the rather dangerous drop, for HE thought, foolishly, that we
might just run over the edge, if we ran down the hill and couldn’t stop!) The
third, HE planted along the stream bank, mainly I think, because there are
signs that there used to be a hedge there. Anyway, he bought several hundred
little trees and made plans for a mixture of different varieties to be planted
for a real old fashioned
Friday 9th April 2004
Treggy
told me, today, that the Pheasant has started a new trick. It now waits for HIM
up at the
Really,
I can’t see the point in too much grooming. SHE spends a long time in the
morning trying to get the mud from my coat and then I go out into the fields
and roll and roll.
“What’ya doing Alli? We’re waiting to
go up the hill.”
“Nearly ready, Treg. I’m just telling HIM what
to put into my diary for yesterday.”
“Don’t
know why HE can’t write it himself. Why does HE have to keep asking you what to
write?”
“I
don’t think you understand, Treg. It’s my diary, I
just get HIM to type it up for me.”
“Whatever.
Come on, Wicky’s won’t wait much longer. Race you up
t …Oh, fetlocks, I forgot, you’re a racehorse aren’t you. Right, first one
there is a sissy!”
Saturday 10th April 2004
Not
a lot to tell you, today. The weather was ordinary, the old boys were ordinary,
HE was ordinary, even the pheasants were ordinary. The problem with a daily
diary is that you have to write something in it every day and some days are
just not special. it gets to be that even a spelling
mistake, or much more likely, hitting a wrong key (or, as is often the case,
hitting the wrong ket) gets to take on an interest
(not interset as often happens to HIM) that is the
only feature of the day. As you can see, I am struggling today! So, what did
happen? Well, by far the most interesting feature was on the way home, when
Amber saw us, stopped for our second carrot break. She must have heard us
walking along the road towards her and was probably waiting for us to go by
when we stopped. I was just getting to my second carrot when she let out an
almighty squeal and started running up her field. Well, I pretended to take no
notice and carried on eating but, all the time, I was watching her, waiting to
see what she would do next. When we have a second treat stop (really to let him
get his breath back),
I always finish of with four apple biscuits and a
few mint sweets. (I should say at this stage that I always say ‘mint sweets’
because a lot of our readers are in
Where
was I? The problem with using HIM to type up my thoughts is that HE is not
always 100% reliable. HE does have a habit of having a glass or two of wine
with his lunch and, if this happens to coincide with the time that HE decides
to type up my diary, well! Read the rest of this day very carefully and see if
you can tell the time of day that it was typed into his computer!
I
was telling you about Amber! I finished my mints and then decided (jointly with
HIM) to walk on. As we approached the gap in the hedge where you can look right
into the field that Amber uses, she came charging up to that gap and confronted
me. We stood there rubbing faces and transmitting all kinds of news to each
other. HE just stood there, not knowing what was going on, but a bit worried
that I might jump back, as there were quite a lot of cars and vans going along
the road. To try and keep us calm, HE offered Amber part of my last carrot that
I had left, in my excitement to get to her. She is young and she is a bit
flighty but she is NOT silly! She took the carrot and continued to rub faces
with me. Then HE gave her one of my apple biscuits, giving me, my others. Well,
I don’t think that Amber has had an apple biscuit before, because she promptly
began spitting out everything that she had in her mouth. To finish, HE gave her
some mints and then tried to make me walk on. Just as things were
beginning to get interesting. I didn’t want to go, obviously. Amber and
I could have played for a long while. However, HE made me, and I unwillingly
went home to my stable. And, that was my day, really. Nothing
much, but interesting at the end.
HIS computer.
Sunday 11th April 2004
“Alli,
you should have seen Wicky, this morning. He was waiting up at the gate for
you, when some tourists went by and he heard them talking.”
“It’s
not usual for Wick to bother to listen to people passing by. Why was he so
interested?”
“Well,
he came rushing over to me, as happy as anything and told me what they said.
Apparently, it’s Eater Sunday, today, and he thinks that it means that you can
just eat and eat and go on ‘til you pop.”
“Are
you sure they said ‘Eater’ Sunday?”
“Well,
Wicky is. I didn’t hear them myself. He must believe it though 'cos he’s gone rushing up the hill, not even waiting for you
to turn up.”
“Well,
even if it were ‘Eater Sunday’, which I very much doubt, what difference would
that make to Wicky, that’s all he does anyway?”
“Yeah,
but it means that he can do it without people moaning at him for it or laughing
at him. To him that is really important. Well, relatively important, anyway.”
“Let’s
go up the field and have a word with him. If we can tear him away from his
grass, that is.”
“Right
’o Alli, there he is, up there behind that tree.”
…….
“Hallo, Wick.
Couldn’t be bothered to wait for me, this morning, eh?”
“Didn’t
Treg tell you? It’s Eater Sunday today. Everyone’s got to eat and eat and eat.
No time to wait around. I’m only doing my duty.”
“I
hadn’t noticed that you are so keen to do your duty on other days. Did you
bring me a present on Xmas day or stand for a minute’s silence on Remembrance
Sunday? I don’t recall that.”
“Yes,
but they are human special days. This is the first time that I heard of a
special equine day so I thought that I should start as I mean to go on, so to
speak.”
“If
you could spell, Wicky, you might notice the similarity between Eater Sunday
and another phrase.”
“Leave
the spelling to the humans, Alli. We won’t write books if they don’t eat grass,
that’s my motto. Anyway, what is this other phrase (is that a pheasant word?)
that you think I should know about?”
“I
just thought that, in your case, it might not be ‘Eater Sunday’ Wick but rather
…”
“Don’t
tell me, Alli, you thought that today was ‘Easter Sunday’, didn’t you?”
“Hold
on there, Wick. That’s not what Alli had in mind, at all, is it Alli?. No, she thought that it was much more suited, in your
case, to ‘Fatter Sunday’!”
“Oh, very funny, Treg! The only thing
is that, if it was, then it would just be an ordinary day, for all of us,
wouldn’t it?”
Monday 12th April 2004
“You going to put that in your log, Treg?”
“What’s
that, Wick? Sorry, I was eating.”
“Those two. Look at ‘em. Walking up the bridle path. If
they’re not tourists I don’t know what is. Look how they are dressed. If they
were locals they’d never put all that gear on, just to go out in the rain. It’s
only a tourist who does that.”
“You
are clever, Wick. You ought to join the Human Watch with me. You know an awful
lot about human nature, don’t you?”
“Just observant, laddie. That’s all. When
you’ve lived on the moor, like I have, and have been dependant on knowing how
to con treats out of tourists, you learn fast.”
“Do you really
think I should put it in the log, Wick? I mean, yes, they are tourists but it
is Easter Monday, after all, and you expect tourists then, don’t you?”
“But
aren’t you supposed to be “hobservant” as you put it,
all the time? You don’t know if they are missing humans, do you. I mean, look
at them. They look lost to me.”
“You’re
right, Wick. They are looking at a map, aren’t they. That musty mean that they are lost, mustn’t it?”
“Good
thinking, Treg. I can see why they want you on the force. How about we go up to
them and ask them. Sort of what you might call ‘the direct
approach’.”
“Is
that where you have to give them directions, Wick? Is that the ‘direct
approach’?”
“Very nearly, Treg, very nearly. Come on, let’s go before they get away. You never know, they
might be carrying mints, apples or carrots in those great big bags on their
backs. Now, don’t forget Treg. Pull your tummy in and try and look starving. Works every time with tourists.”
“O.K. Wicky, like this?”
“Ugh, Treg. We’re not trying to scare
them away. Keep behind me, I’ll do the talking.”
……
“Why
did they run away, Wick? I didn’t say anything, honest. I just stayed behind
you, like you said.”
“But
did you have to take exactly that moment to do a wee, Treg? Really, it’s not a
pretty sight, I tell you.”
“Sorry,
Wick, but you know ‘when you gotta go etc. The urge
was just to powerful, I had no choice.”
“How
do you think this is going to look in your log, Treg. ‘Saw two very strange
tourists acting rather suspiciously so I approached them and did a wee. They
ran away as fast as their puny little human legs would let them’. Not very awe inspiring, is it. Not the kind of thing likely to lead to
promotion, now, is it?”
“Do
I really have to report it, Wick? Couldn’t I just say ‘nothing to report,
today’ like I always do?”
“But
that would be lying, now, laddie, wouldn’t it?”
“I
know, I’ll say that as I approached them, they ran off in a very suspikious manner. That wouldn’t be lying, now, would it
Wick?”
“It
might not be lying, Treg, but it will make someone’s
spell checker very unhappy!”
Tuesday 13th April 2004
It’s
coming to something, now. Phrank the pheasant is coming
to supper as well as breakfast. As HE went down to give Wick and Treg their
buckets, this evening, up struts that highly coloured show off and follows HIM
down to the field shelter. I asked HIM when HE came back, and we were walking
along the
Come
to think of it, not all horses either. We stopped as usual for our carrot
/asthma break next to Amber’s field when she let out a
mighty shout to
us. So, cutting short my treat break, HE leads me on to the gap in the hedge
where she often comes up to join us. Now, there is a very wet patch in the
middle of this field and Annette, her human, often places some electric tape
fencing round it (not electrified, you understand) to keep Amber out of it. So,
while we stood there, waiting for her, Amber comes running up to the tape and
just stands there. Anyone with half a brain – even Tregony – would have known
to walk round it. Not Amber. She just stands there, looking up at us. And there
we are, standing looking down at her. And me thinking ‘ HE cut my treat break short for this?’ Eventually, even HE could see the futility
of it and we walked on. Only to come upon two Landrovers talking to each other and blocking the road. At least, the cars weren’t talking but their human drivers were. Normally I
wouldn’t have minded, as it would have been an opportunity for me to have a
little snack from the roadside verge. It is quite normal in these parts for
roads to be impassable while drivers chat to each other or pop into houses
making deliveries. One just waits until it is clear or goes around another way,
if you are in a hurry. That is one of the beauties of living here in the
country. But, today I was already put out by that silly mare, Amber. So I just
stood behind the two machines shifting from foot to foot and generally showing
my displeasure until the drivers stopped their conversation and drove off.
Just
as we got to Dave’s the blacksmith’s, one good thing happened. We bumped into Dori with her little human Katy. They were standing outside
Dave’s forge with Katy’s dad who was talking to the smith. I’ve told you before
how I like little humans, particularly female ones. And what was nice was
meeting Dori, the Bernese bitch puppy who lives just down the road. You can tell that she is just a puppy
still, although she is bigger than many dogs, because she was rather nervous of
me, even though I put my face down to her. She’ll learn.
Just
as I was feeling better, we walked on home to my stable, only to find that he
had cleaned it thoroughly. Now I’ve got to work at making it nice and smelly
again. Never mind, my bucket’s there.
Wednesday 14th April 2004
Well,
I got a big surprise this evening. It had been a very nice day – warm, but no
flies, sunny and everyone in a good mood. The only thing was, THEY were a bit late bringing the evening feed buckets and taking me home for
my tea. Still, as it was a nice evening, we didn’t mind so much, we just stood
around, near the field shelter, have a mouthful or two of grass. When THEY did
turn up, I started to get ready to go with HE, while HE took the old fellows
their buckets, but instead, SHE waved me off
and told me to go with HIM. Now, you may remember,
when I did this, only last week, I believe, I got into enormous trouble. SHE
wouldn’t talk to me and drove off at a hundred miles an hour (or kilometres or
whatever it is now). Now, here SHE was, telling me to do it! Humans, they are
so unpredictable. Still, like the good, obedient girl I am, I did as I was told
and followed HIM. It was then that I noticed that HE had three buckets, not
just two. Now, I’m not silly and it didn’t take me long to realise that I was
going to have my tea here instead of at home in my stable. The excitement of
eating stopped me thinking any further than that and I was too busy making sure
that I finished first and got to THEM for my treats before Wicky and Treg did,
that I still didn’t fall in right away. It was only when SHE told me, as THEY
started to leave without me, that I realised the full implication of this. I
was staying out! No more walking up and down the
Thursday 15th April 2004
Well,
HE told me a bit of news, this evening. Apparently SHE has been asked to take
over the SWEP website (as an unpaid volunteer) as it had been getting too much
work for the previous web person and the site was a little bit out of date. If
you don’t read the rest of this website, you wont know that SWEP stands for
South West Protection (for equines, of course) and is run by a very nice lady
called Maureen Rolls, who spends all her time trying to help distressed, abused
and abandoned horses and ponies (and, last time THEY were there – geese!)
Now, don’t get
me wrong. I’m all for helping distressed horses, Wicky
was one himself, when he was younger. Distressed I mean, not a horse. He didn’t
start out normal and slowly wear himself down to the pitiful size that he is
now. No, it is a very laudable thing, to volunteer like that. But, let HER just
remember, charity begins at home, so to speak. My website must have priority! I
insist! It has been bad enough this last week or two, when both HE and SHE have
been trying to get to grips with a new piece of web writing software. The
problem with the previous package THEY used was that, although it was very
lovely and easy to produce pages quickly, with all the extra flashy stuff
available, if you wanted it, it did not always work well with all web browsers.
At first, THEY were unaware of this, and when THEY got an occasional comment
stating that the text and pictures overlapped, THEY had no way of finding out
what was wrong. When this comment came back from a web writing professional,
THEY had no option but to take him seriously, when he recommended that they
change THEIR software package. Coincidentally, THEY found the same problem
mentioned in a magazine that they had bought, nearly a year ago, but they had
not read this at the time. THEY bought this new top of the range package and
reluctantly started the process of reading manuals and doing learning projects,
all over again, this time even having to get into a little bit of coding. HE
has told me that I wouldn’t believe the amount of bad language and late nights
that have gone into just being able to change over THEIR sites from one package
to the next. HE has admitted that even this diary has suffered – not getting
updated for days on end. I only hope it is worth it. HE is not even sure that
HE will get HIS own village site ready in the new software for the May edition
as he has about 120 pages to change. I will bear with him a bit longer but I
will be watching to make sure my diary doesn’t suffer!
Friday 16th April 2004
There’s an awful lot of leaves in
the field shelter today. Funny! It’s early Spring and
the ground is covered with old brown leaves, just like Autumn. I asked HIM
about it and, having thought about it for a minute, HE
suggested that they might be beech leaves as they hang about on the hedges for
an awful long time. HE said that is why
humans like beech
hedges so much. The leaves turn colour in the Autumn but they stay on the trees
so you don’t get bare branches, until the next set of leaves are ready to cover
the tree again. So, it would appear that the combination of the timing and some
fairly breezy weather that we have had lately, has
caused these leaves to turn up everywhere. HE says that THEY even have them in
the kitchen in THEIR house, as it has a two part stable door and they often
keep the top half open. It seems funny to think that THEY have a stable door on
THEIR house. I expect it’s because THEY are such horse lovers!
I
don’t want to keep talking about the weather, but it’s strange that, as soon as
I come out to Ninefields overnight, the weather turns a bit cold, wet and windy
again. Only last week, I was looking over my stable door at some lovely clear
and mild skies. Not that it matters much. I stayed out at the end of last Autumn in much worse weather than this and I’ve grown a very
heavy winter coat this year.
I
expect it wont be long now before we see
Saturday 17th April 2004
I’m
in a bit of a funny mood, today. All Winter, I’ve been
longing to be allowed to stay out all night. From the day that I was first kept
in, in the Autumn up until the last night that I
looked out of my stable and heard the birds singing over the moor, I’ve longed
and longed to stand out, under the stars, and spend the nights with my
companions, the old boys. And now that I am doing it, I’m missing the human contact
that walking up and down the
Sunday 18th April 2004
“Alli?”
“Well,
Treg, what is it this time?”
“Do
you ever wish you were something else than a horse? You know, a rabbit or a bird or something.”
“Whatever
has got into your head now, Treg? Have you been dreaming again, or something?”
“Well,
I was just watching this ant, as it walked along the ground. Do you know that
the little bit of rain in that footprint of mine is like a great big lake to
it? It stands no chance of walking through it. It either has to swim or make a
detour round it.”
“And
were you thinking of organising swimming competitions for ants then Treg? Or
did it make you happy to see the trouble your great big feet put it to?”
“Hello, you two. Sorry to keep you waiting. Just had to tidy up the field shelter before we go off up the hill
for the day.”
“You
mean you just had to eat up all the food that Alli leaves, when she throws her
bucket upside down. I just don’t know how you can eat so much, Wick.”
“You’re
one to talk, laddie. I saw you yesterday morning. As soon as she went out to go
with HER for what SHE calls ‘a girlie moment’ up the field, you rushed over and
mopped up all the short feed that fell out of Alli’s bucket.”
“I
just felt that I should save her from the embarrassment of leaving her corner
dirty. You know how she puts on such airs like a princess. She would be
mortified if all that food just piled up and made her place nasty and dirty.”
“Aye, laddie. Verra noble, I’m sure. Is that why you rush off so hastily when she comes back to the
field shelter. So that she won’t feel obliged to thank you
for looking out for her welfare?”
“Come
on you two, we’re wasting good grass eating time. Tell Wick about your ideas
concerning other lives, Treg. Did you know, Wick, that Treg is going to be an ant in his next life?”
“What
makes him think he’s going to get a next life? The way he’s acted in this one,
I don’t think that he’ll be given another chance, do you, Alli?”
“Oh,
I don’t know, Wick. There’s his police record to take into account. He must get
some recognition for that, surely?”
“His police record? Standing
around in the middle of the field waiting for something to happen. Well,
anyone could do that. It’s not something to be proud of, surely?”
“Anyone
could do that. But how many do, that’s the question, Wicky smicky.
What have you done for your fellow creatures, that’s what I’d like to know?”
“Steady,
Treg. I’m sure Wick didn’t mean it nastily. He was just pointing out that your
work in the Human Watch force has not been to arduous of late. You know, since
you have been in plain rugs, so to speak. Standing about beneath trees is not
really what ‘under cover’ means, surely?”
“Well,
that’s just one side of it. You’d be surprised at the work involved in just
keeping that log up to date.”
“I’m
sorry to have to tell you this, Treg, but I think your log’s got wet rot.”
“Right,
Wicky, that’s enough now. Don’t get him started on that. Treg talks enough rot,
as it is.”
Monday 19th April 2004
It’s
one of those days when there is good news and bad news. If you were here, I
could ask you which you wanted to hear first but as you are not, I’ll have to
make the decision. I think I will have to start with the good news for I have a
very bad feeling that the bad news is going to go on well past today. So, the
good news is that HE spotted some blue flowers in our hedge, along the
The
bad news! I’ve got tooth problems. You remember that I had x-rays on my teeth
just a little while back. Well, THEY didn’t hear anything from the vets so they
phoned up and were told that the vets would get back to THEM. Then, as THEY
still had heard nothing, THEY popped in there, and were told that the x-rays
showed nothing wrong and THEY were quite relieved. All the while, I have been
getting little biting pains as I eat and have become a bit head shy. Well,
yesterday and even more so today, the pains have been much sharper and I have
trouble eating from my bucket. SHE noticed it, this morning and cut my carrots
and apples up much smaller to try and help me. It was a bit better this
evening, but I gather that THEY are going to call the vets again. There’s
nothing worse than toothache, is there?
Tuesday 20th April 2004
Remember
I was telling you about my tooth problems? Well, they were even worse this
morning. It was like I was eating funny so that the food gets stuck in my jaws
and I have to put my head at all kinds of funny angles to loosen it and be able
to bite without pain. Grass is not so bad, as I can just nibble that and little
bits go down alright. Strangely, after I have struggled with my short feed
bucket, I am then able to bite off lumps from a carrot and get that down
alright. It is as if I have to practice eating in a new way first and then when
I
have learned it, things go along better. I say ‘it
is like’, I should say ‘it was like’ for I had the vet come along today and he
has fixed it. What happened was that THEY turned up with our buckets, this
afternoon, a bit early. Wicky didn’t mind but Treg and I were still up the hill, above the field shelter, as it wasn’t time to come down to
wait yet. Still, when old Treg saw them, he straightaway started to wander down
the hill. He really is a changed horse, this year. Other times he would wait to
be told or given permission to go. Now he just does it when he wants. Anyway,
we went down but, instead of giving us our buckets, HE put them in the tack
room part of the shelter and THEY just gave us a few treats instead. Next, down
the field comes Phil the vet, an old friend of mine. Then I fell in, he had
come to look at my teeth. Out comes the iron gag and I stand in the shelter
while he puts it on and then looks in my mouth. After the looking comes some
feeling around and this makes me jump a bit. Things went a bit hazy after that.
I can remember Phil giving me an injection and then I felt a bit tired. The
next thing I knew was feeling a bit hungry and remembering that I should be
having a feed bucket. Treg and Wick have told me that I was very funny. I sort
of lolled about and rested my head on the hay net and dribbled. Then I wobbled
about a bit and then dozed off again. This was after the worst bit, Treg says.
Phil pulled about in my mouth and got out a great big jagged bit of tooth out
that had been sticking into my mouth when I tried to eat. Then he rasped all my
teeth to get rid of the sharp edges and make them good for eating again. Wick
says that I was very funny when I was waking up. They had had their buckets
when Phil left but I was not allowed mine in case I choked, until I was fully
awake again. THEY stayed with me until I was awake enough to grab a bite of hay
and get a drink of water. Then THEY went away for an hour to have their tea and
came back when I was fully awake to give me mine. My mouth is a bit sore now
but at least I can eat properly again.
Wednesday 21st April 2004
I’m
feeling much better today. After my bucket yesterday evening, my friends went
up the hill with me to the very top and we spent a wonderful evening and night,
under the stars. The weather has turned really nice now. A little bit of rain
and a little bit of wind at first but we horses can tell when it is going to
improve and that time is now. The clouds all went away by the end of the
evening and there is nothing better than just grazing about by the light of the
moon and stars. There’s just enough light to be able to keep in touch if one of
us drifts off and whoever is on guard duty really has an easy time, depending
as much on sound as sight. It’s funny but there is a sort of assumption that
things get quieter at night. This is just not true. There may be less sounds, at least human ones, but this just allows one
to concentrate more and hear all the sounds that are masked in the day. You’d
be surprised at how many animals and insects
there are about
at night. But, although there are so many sounds, it is still much more
peaceful. Every sound has it’s rightful place and you
would miss it if it were not there. So this detection by absence of sound as
well as by it’s presence all goes to make the dark a
good place to be.
After
we have had a good long graze and we are feeling pleasantly full and
comfortable, we tend to get together and have a bit of a chat and a bit of a
gaze at the stars. Treg is always gazing up and asking us questions, quite
serious ones, about the nature of things and where horses come from and so on.
Wicky has this thing about the moon. You could say he is fascinated by it. You
see, Wick is a bit of an earwigger. He often stands
alongside our side of our hedge, either by the road or by the bridle path, and
he listens to the human passers by and what they are talking about. This is
fine because you can learn an awful lot that way. You get to hear when the
sheep are going to be put into the field or when Clarry is going to spread that stinking muck over his fields and things like that. The
trouble is, you get to hear some absolute rubbish as well and poor old Wick
isn’t really so very well equipped to tell the difference. Granted, he’s no
Treggy, but on the other hand, poor old Treg is so dim that he wouldn’t be able
to misconstrue anything anyway, it would just pass him by. Anyway, one day Wick
was standing by the hedge alongside the
Thursday 22nd April 2004
“Just
look at those pheasants, Treg. They never stop eating, do they?”
“And that Phiona. She’s just a
bully. Even Phrank is scared of her, I’m sure.”
“He’s
scared of everyone, that Phrank. Everyone, that is,
except HIM. Do you see him chase up to gate, even before we do now. But at least Alli wont stand
for it. If anyone wants some lessons in bullying, they should go to Alli.”
“She
told med that she wasn’t a bully, Wick. She said that she was just firm. You
have to be firm, that’s what she said.”
“It’s
pretty firm to tread on a pheasant, at least Phrank must think so. He doesn’t stand in the
way when she is around.”
“True.
Where is she now, I wonder? Have you seen her lately?”
“She
goes up the field under that bit of hedge. I don’t know what is there but it’s
making a real mess of her features. There must be a whole lot of thorns or
something there. Her whole face and neck are covered with little scabs. I heard
THEM talking about it the other day. You know when THEY stand there giving you treats
with THEIR arms around your neck. Well, with Alli, they are picking away at her
scabs, at the same time.”
“Ugh!
I bet SHE taught HIM that. It’s the kind of thing that female humans do.”
“I
though you always preferred female humans, Treg. That’s what Michelle always
says about you.”
“I
do or, at least, I did. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t notice these little
things. Probably more so. I’m some sort of female
human expert, you know, Wick.”
“Really, Treg. Is that so? Tell me. What
does the word ‘expert’ mean?”
“Well,
you know, Wick. It’s sort of, well, you know….”
“Yes,
I do Treg. What I’m wondering is if you know, as well?”
“Oh
come on, Wick. You’re always picking on me. If Alli bites you, you bite me. Who
am I supposed to bite?”
“Well, you could
try HIM, I suppose. HE is next down the pecking order, after all.”
“But
that wouldn’t be fair, would it Wick? Or kind. HE’s
such a puny little thing, HE wouldn’t stand a chance.. Anyway, HE might not be much physically but HE is the source of carrots and mint
sweets and stuff. I wouldn’t want to upset HIM and cut off my rations.”
“Aye, laddie. Now you’re getting to the
heart of the matter. HE may not be much but HE does have a few good points.”
“And
HE brushes us, Wick. Just think where you’d be if HE didn’t try and get rid of all that thick old coat you’ve got. On the other hand, it
would be nice if you and HE went far away from the field shelter when HE does
it. It’s like the world turns white, worse that the worst
“Do
I have a choice, laddie? It grows, I get hot, it falls
out. And then HE comes along and tries to hasten the process. Talking of which,
what time is it. I’m starting to feel a bit peckish.”
Friday 23rd
April 2004
“Wicky?”
“Yes, Alli? I’m over here.”
“I
want to tell you a silly story, that HE told me.”
“Is
it about horses? But no, it can’t be if it’s silly. Right, Alli. Tell me this
silly story.”
“It’s
not that kind of story, Wick. Not a made up one. It’s true. It’s something that
happened to HIM today.”
“And
HE told you, I suppose. I thought you were supposed to tell HIM things for HIM
to type for that diary of yours. Are you changing places. Are you going to write HIS diary now?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s just that
it made me laugh and I thought you’d like to hear it. If you’d rather not, I
can go and tell Treggy, instead.”
“Calm
down, old girl. I was only making a comment. Anyway, Treg’s coming over, so you can tell both of us, at the same time.”
“Right. OK Wick, I’ll hold on for a
bit. Hi, Treg, we were just talking about you.”
“That
makes a change, I bet. Saying what a big strong handsome fellow I am? Saying
what a fantastic intelligence I’ve got?. Admiring my
equine skills? Or just laughing about me behind my back again?”
“Who
got up on the wrong side of the Tamar this morning, Treg, you old grump? We
were just saying that Alli has a story and that she should hold on until you
got here before she tells it. So, do you want to listen or not?”
“Sorry
Wick. I am a bit grumpy this morning. It’s those pheasants. The noise they
make. A guy can’t get a wink of sleep.”
“Right
you two. Now be quiet and listen. Have you ever heard of the Sticklepath
Steeplechaser?”
“A
local guy, eh? Is he a friend of Harry’s?”
“No,
Wick,. In fact he’s not a real horse, at
all. That may not even be his, it’s,
real name at all, if it’s got one. It is a king of horse sculpture made out of
old motor car parts. THEY spotted it a few weeks ago draped over the gate of a
house along the road from Drybridge to Sticklepath,
just outside Sticklepath village itself. It’s put there to look like it is
jumping the gate. That’s why THEY called it the Sticklepath Steeplechaser.”
“You’d
never catch a horse making a sculpture of a human out of lumps of old
horseshoes and stuff. in fact you wouldn’t find us
doing it out of anything. Daft. humans are, eh, Wick?”
“Aye,
Treg. But they mean well.”
“Anyway. As HE was driving along the
road to go and get us some more carrots, HE looked over at the place where this
tin horse is and HE saw something new. Apparently there is now a peacock
sculpture standing in the field, outside of the house, with big bright feathers
sparkling in the sunshine. So HE decided to call in to the house, on HIS way
back, and find out if there is an artist living there.”
“That
would be a surprise, wouldn’t it Wick? Who did HE think had done them then, a
farrier?”
“No, listen, Treg. HE got out of HIS car and
walked down the drive to the house but it looked derelict. On HIS way, HE
passed a motor caravan with its front covered with a
camouflage netting. HE could hear loud music coming from inside, so HE
went up and knocked on the window. Nothing happened so HE started to walk away,
when all of a sudden a cockerel appeared from behind the caravan and attacked
him Then it calmly walked away and stood in front of
the van and crowed in triumph!”
“Well,
I knew HE was a weakling, but really! A chicken!”
“We
must just look after HIM, laddie. We can’t have some feathered monster
endangering our supplies. Did HE get the carrots home safely, Alli?”
“All safe and sound, Wick. All safe and sound!”
Saturday 24th April 2004
A really bright and sunny day, today. What did I tell
you? Us horses can tell about changes in the weather,
don’t ask me how. Maybe it’s something to do with the air pressure, maybe it
has to do with scent on the wind. Whatever it is, it’s true. And I don’t
believe it is just horses. Lots of animals can do the same. In fact, probably only
one animal cant and that’s humans! What was nice about the weather today is
that it was not too hot. A few flies
about but only
just enough to annoy occasionally. Not like the Summer when some horses have to have masks covering their whole faces as well as their
bodies to keep flies away. No, today was bright and warm, with a gentle breeze,
in fact – a perfect day. The kind of day, in fact,
where we take it in turns to have a gentle nap, maybe even a full blooded sleep
for a few moments. We may not sleep in the big deep sleep that you humans do,
for hours and hours. But, what we do enjoy most is that sort of hazy, dopey
half world, when we are in between. It is so pleasant to just sit in the warm
sun and let everything just pass pleasantly around you, safe in the knowledge
that one of your own is looking out for you, as you will look out for him,
later on. As you can imagine, when a day is passed as pleasantly as this, there
is really not much to talk about. Nothing really happened, or, if it did, I
wasn’t aware of it
Let
me think. Did I dream? Nothing very certain comes to mind. Sensations drifted
in and out of my consciousness. Warmth, foal hood, excitement at the races,
maybe even fear, just for a moment, but not real fear.
More like the kind of play fear that you humans get from a creepy book or an
exciting chase. Scents too drifted through my awareness and, with these, the
knowledge of the reality they represent. I don’t know if you ever wonder what
dreams are? For me, they are just another way of experiencing
reality and, if you can explain to me, or to yourself, what that is, then you
are well on the way to becoming the world’s cleverest animal.
Sunday 25th April 2004
“Wick,
have you noticed anything funny with our buckets?”
“If
you mean have I noticed that they are getting lighter, Treg, then I don’t find
that is anything to laugh about.”
“Yeah. That’s it, Wick. I knew
that if anyone was aware of it, it would be you. I don’t know about you, but I
am feeling decidedly put out by it. I don’t know what SHE thinks SHE is playing
at. Do you think that THEY are getting hard up or something, Wick?”
“I’m
not so sure that it has anything to do with money, Treg. In my long experience
of the ways and foibles of the human race, I feel that it has much more to do
with that bit of tape that SHE put round our tummies the other morning.”
“I
did wonder about that, Wick.
I’ve noticed myself that SHE seems to think it is
important. And there really is only one thing that is important, isn’t there
Wick? Food! Eating! So, in my mind there is something about that tape that has
to do with food.”
“Or the lack of it, laddie. Or the lack of it. Oh, ‘tis a sad day when the likes o’ HER
is responsible for starving us to death. She’ll be sorry, no doubt, when we’re
gone. Verra, verra sorry. But, for us,
that’ll be too late. HER tears just won’t bring us back to condition, laddie.
Only the bucket stuff can do that. And you ken how much the humans put on
condition.”
“Yeah. Funny that, aint it Wick. They go on and on about us coming into
condition and then, just when we’re brimming with the stuff, they goes and
starves us. They’re a funny lot, humans.”
“So
why’d you go and join that Human Watch thing then, Treg. Surely they can watch
themselves and leave us to get on with putting on condition. Each to his own,
you know. Each should do what they are best at. Aren’t I right, laddie?”
“Too
true, Wick. Too true. Do we ask them to put on
condition? No. Of course we don’t. ‘cos they’d be no good at it. Not like us, eh Wick?”
“And
do you see the things they put on their feet? It’s a wonder they last at all.
It’s a good job their hooves don’t grow as well as ours, eh Treg?”
“So what we going to do about our buckets, Wick? Go on a hunger
strike?”
“You
know, Treg. Sometimes you have really good ideas. And then again, there are
other times…….. Tell you what, let’s go up to that rather nice patch of grass
where Alli is and you can ask her while I have a little snack to put on some
condition.”
Monday 26th April 2004
It’s fine for Alli to ask me to tak’ o’er her diary for a day, but when am I going to get a
bite to eat? It’s not as if she was going away or anything. The lassie’s just
feeling lazy. She tells me that she canna be bothered
to talk to HIM today, she would like to get back up the hill, as soon as she
finishes her bucket. I know I like to hang around a bit after breakfast. Just
to do a bit of tidying up, ye ken. But she is taking advantage of me. I’ve seen
her, hovering about, when Treggy makes straight up the hill, these mornings.
She really wants to be up and away with him but she can’t stand the fact that I
don’t go rushing up with her. So she hovers and then runs a bit that way and
then comes back a bit this way. Sometimes I take extra long over my cleaning
up, just to annoy her. Then she’ll finally run back to the field shelter and
tell me to hurry along. Finally. she gives up and runs up with Treg. But she doesn’t like it.
So, what am I going to tell you about? You’ve heard
about my wretched coat falling out. Not that I mind it falling out, you
understand. It’s just that it takes so long doing it. Every day, morning and
evening HE does HIS best to brush it out. It comes out in handfuls, literally.
First HE uses a special big toothed plastic thing. HE likes that because,
unlike a brush, the teeth are cone shaped and so the hair just falls from it
when it is full. It is also very strong, so it can get to the knottiest bits of
my coat without falling apart. However, the problem with it is that HE cant do my front end without all the hair falling out into
my feed bucket, while I am eating. I’m funny like that. I just don’t like
mouthfuls of hair, in with my breakfast. So next, HE swaps for a wire tooth
dogs brush. This does hold the hair and HE has to keep stopping to empty it,
but at least it doesn’t drop in my food. Like everything, though, it too has
got it’s down side. Where my skin is most sensitive, under my tummy or on my
legs, the wire teeth can be a bit painful. When HE gets too ambitious, I let
him know this by waving my leg around in the air and moving away. Finally, HE
resorts to just grabbing lumps of hair in his bare hands and pulling it out.
This is not so painful as it sounds for the loose
stuff just comes away with no problem. And, at the end of each session, we both
stand there, in a great big pile of hair, knowing that it is just the tip of
the iceberg and HE will have to start all over again, next bucket time. I
suspect HE is secretly pleased when it is raining and I am too wet to groom. I
really do have a wonderful coat. When it gets wet it goes into tight curls and
when it dries out, it is like armoured plating. And all it takes to grow it is
some good grass. So, if you’ll excuse me
Tuesday 27th April 2004
Hello,
I’m back.. Did you miss me? I had some very important
business to attend to yesterday. Wicky has been dying to have a go at the diary
so I took pity on him and asked him to take it over for a day. I hope he didn’t
bore you too much. I know what he’s like. Always pontificating on how they do
things on the moor and the advantages of the small in stature and things like
that. Always yapping really, just like little dogs. Still, I suppose he’s
alright. He has his good points too – I think? Hard to remember them just at
the minute but no doubt they’ll come to me.
You
should have seen old Treg today.
He’s a funny old lad. They
decided to let us back up into the top field, for some reason, and Treg made
straight for that big floppy umbrella tree, down by the stream. And he just
stood there for ages, eating the new leaves. I don’t know if he especially
likes the flavour or if it gave him a break from bending over. Another funny
thing about Treg, is his ability to keep things in his
mouth for a long while after you think he has finished them. HE often gives him
a polo mint and then forgets about it, talks to one of us and then when he
turns back, Treg suddenly finds this sweet in his mouth and starts crunching.
I cant remember if I told you about our sheep. Not the
wanderers, they just come and go seemingly at will. No, Michael the farmer has
put some sheep in our field to help us clear up the grass. Wicky wasn’t best
pleased at this, I can tell you. But even he has a job getting through nearly
eight acres of newly sprouting spring grass. The sheep appear to be in two lots.
There is a whole crowd of mothers with their baby lambs. And then there is a
gang of rams who sort of stay aloof and spend most of their time up in the road
field, the one that we are kept out of to allow the grass to grow. A bit ironic
that. There it is and we have to watch this gang of about eight rams munching
away to their hearts content. HE read somewhere that it is good for the grass.
Well, it certainly isn’t good for Wicky’s temper!
Wednesday 28th April 2004
Well,
it’s here, at last! This is the three hundred and sixty fifth day of my diary,
one year of my life, since I started. This time last year, those drain diggers
with their noisy machinery and long blue plastic tubes were here, making a
muddy mess of our fields. And now, look around. You wouldn’t know that hey had
been. That is unless you knew how that field by the two gates used to fill up
with water and be more like a boggy lake than a field. I have to say, they did
a very good job there. And, what is different since then? Well, I have grown a
much thicker coat this year. Being a thoroughbred, I naturally have a very fine
coat and this doesn’t change much over winter. But this year, you could see a
noticeable difference.
Nothing like Treggy’s and definitely far removed from Wicky’s one. But, for me, a very thick woolly coat. I think
it could well be due to the fact that, apart from two half days, I don’t think
I missed any time from going out to Ninefields over Winter.
And that toughened me up so I am now an honorary
The
other thing that has changed this year appears to be Treggy’s health, in particular, his arthritis. He wasn’t moving half as well last year
as he is this. Last year, I think that THEY lost the battle of keeping Treg’s weight down and, as a consequence, he tended to hobble and stumble about a bit. He never did have a good gait,
always kicking his front feet into the ground, but the added weight made it
more difficult or him to manoeuvre his old joints about. This year, he is
running up the hill like a colt. The only thing that slows him down now is his
brain. Once he knows what he has to do, he can and does go at it with a will.
So
far this year, Wicky has only had one bad turn with his feet, an improvement on
the previous year. And, what else? Last year we had pheasants,
this year we’ve got pheasants. Last year Ramsley Common burnt down, this year
Ramsley Common burnt down .Last year we had swallows and today I saw the first
one making a reconnaissance flight over the field shelter. I don’t know what
another year will bring. Maybe just a lot more of the same. If it does, I won’t be sorry for we lead a very pleasant life here. Whether you
will want to read about our daily lives, just repeating themselves,
we’ll have to wait and see.
Thursday 29th April 2004
Wicky
was thrilled. Treg was laughing fit to split his sides. It’s all one great big
joke to them. You see, I think that they planned it all along. They won’t admit
it, but that’s my suspicion. Oh, you don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?
Well, it was like this.
The
three of us were up in the very highest part of the top North field having a
little snack from some very new sweet grass. One advantage, when you are high
up there is that sound carries and I would have heard the sound of THEIR car,
coming along the
When
we sorted ourselves out, it turns out that the stranger was from the ILPH
(International League for the Protection of Horses). He had had a complaint
that I was being mistreated by being left out in the cold with no rug on. After
saying some very complimentary things, particularly what good hooves I had (for
a thoroughbred! Why do they always have to add that?), we all had a little
snack and THEY went off, satisfied that I was unabused.
As I said at the beginning, we all had a real good laugh about it and everyone
agreed that it was much better for a mistake to be made than for a possible
case of mistreatment to go without investigation.
Friday 30th April 2004
We
should have known that something was up when THEY not only encouraged us to go
into the
Now there is
nothing wrong with having ones feet shod (or , in Wicky’s case, trimmed) except for the fact that one has to
suffer a half an hour without a mouthful of grass and being relatively good.
Each of us faces the problem in our own way. I’d swear that Treg went to sleep,
if it weren’t for the occasional grunt, when Mark knocked a nail down a bit
enthusiastically. Have you ever noticed that when a human is hitting anything
with a hammer, be it a nail in a hoof or a post in the ground, they always go
rat, tat, tat, TAT! The last hit is always a big one. That last one is the one
that always gets Treg. Humans tend to worry about having nails driven into
hooves, at least, the non horsey humans do. But, I
assure you, it isn’t the nail that hurts. But, that final TAT! makes your whole leg shudder and old Treg always gives out a
grunt.
Where
was I? Oh yes, our different attitudes to the farrier. I always try to
anticipate, to show off that I know what is going to happen next, that I have
been through it so many times before. I like to give the impression of
professional nonchalance. After all, I don’t want anyone to forget that I was a
racehorse. Not just a common old riding school hack like my two companions
here. It always helps to keep them in line, you know. The rest of my attitude
depends on who is holding my lead rein. If it is HER, then I stand very
obediently, doing what I am told and trying to impress HER. IF it is HIM, then
a bit of bullying and a bit of smooching doesn’t go amiss. There’s a good
chance that the boredom can be alleviated by a bit of carrot or a mint treat. I
always reckon my chances are better than evens on a normal day. I may only have
won a couple of races but when it comes to getting treats out of HIM, I am a
champion.
When
it’s Wicky’s turn, you can tell that you are in for a
spell of grumpy toleration, providing it doesn’t go on for too long.
Fortunately, while we generally take just under the hour to shoe (depending if
they are new or refit shoes), Wicky’s trim only takes
about a quarter of an hour. That is about his tolerance level, or, according to
him, how long he can go without eating.
And
while one of us is being seen to, the rest can wander around eating grass.
Having said that, I always like to supervise as well and have to come along and
inspect how things are going, from time to time. Of course, when it’s my turn,
there is no need, so the other two just eat. That is, unless SHE decides to
pull a bit more hair out of them, if SHE gets bored!
And
then it rained, for the rest of the day.
