Sunny

The weather was absolutely perfect today to take Blue's ashes and 'turn her out' again in the valley of Howen Bottom where Juma was born, and where his ashes were placed. It was a reminder of that glorious summer when Tracey and I say on the hummocks watching out little herd, Nelly, Juma, my Blue, White Blue and Nanny. It is so peaceful down there, just a few walkers and no road nearby. 

Sleep tight my girl.

Bothered?

You might wonder why anyone would be particuarly bothered about the death of a 'fairly ordinary' New Forest mare who spent seventeen years of her life on the open Forest, another on a SSSI conservation site, and the occasional winter holiday, and the final years of her life, at home catching up on eating and self-care. 

Apart from loving her with the whole of my heart, and admiring her beautiful qualities of calmness, trust, and care, I loved to watch the whole herd together, their reactions and interactions, loyalties and duties to one another. Blue was a wonderful mother to the one foal that she had, and a brilliant Auntie to those that Nelly had. She would lead, follow, and protect as needed. And occasionally she would come out of her natural retirement to work with me, the Firemen or people with addictions when a spare pony was required.

Blue, Blue, my world is Blue.

Sunday, was the most beautiful day for a very long time. The sky was a proper sky blue, heralding the spring ahead, and as dusk fell there were striations of pastel colours, baby blue and pink, like watercolours streaked across the valley.

 

This was to be my beautiful Blue's last day on earth and I have known it was coming, fought if off for several months knowing that the end was inevitable. Last August, when she should have been at her best weight, Blue started to look slim - a nice racing-weight the vet would have said - but a vast array of tests followed up by cartons of supplements did no good. She seemed very happy, galloping up for her two decent feeds a day, rolling her neck like the distant Arab in her New Forest ancestry, and she held her own. She didn't really fancy any hay even though there was nothing wrong with her teeth and after a feed she would stand contemplatively while digesting her food. She wore her first rug and kept it straight and undamaged, seeming to be grateful for the extra warmth but she didn't spend long in the open barn despite a really deep bed and the company of Pie an Patsy.

When I looked under her nightie on Friday evening it was a shock to see that she had suddenly dropped even more weight and now she was a shadow of the pony that she had been. Still cheerful at the front end, she didn't like me pressing into her flanks. The time had come.

  

She has spent the weekend eating her way through carrots, minty treats and Stud Muffins hopefully thinking it must be Christmas, and today, at 3 p.m., her light went out. How I loved my Bluesy pony, my beautiful girl, you have been an angel for the twenty one years that I have owned you.