Such a beautiful, beautiful day today, warm, blue sky, pretty clouds and a light breeze. The perfect day to sit and watch the horses enjoying some new grass and swaying through their ballet of interactions: nose to nose, or synchronised, seeking each other out for different reasons. I could just sit on my garden chair with my back to the barn door and wait, and wait, and apparently wait for them to poo.
Normally, I split them up for the purpose of taking samples for their faecal worm counts. This enables me to do other jobs,but I thought that I would nice, relaxing afternoon instead. This is how it went.
Theoden: "What's in the cardboard box? No, really, what's in the cardboard box? Hit me with the cardboard box because I've got a blasted fly on me. I don't care if you can't see the other horses, scratch my ears."
I peer under his belly trying to keep an eye on the others for any er, productions.
Theoden: "Right, if you are not going to eliminate all of these insects, I am leaving. I am going to stand in the field shelter." Exits stage left and now I am down to 6 horses and 6 samples.
Nelly: "Have you noticed there's no water in the trough? I don't care if you can't see the other horses, I need some water and I need it now."
I stand up and go into the yard to connect the hosepipe and turn the tap on. Bearing in mind that it only takes 3 seconds for a pony to poo, I wonder if any of the have 'gone' without me and execute a complete Poo Patrol before sitting back down.
Theoden: "I'm back, no one else came with me and I got lonely." Okay, you can stay here with me - only could you move out of the way?
Horses tend to poo once every two hours and now there is only an hour left. It could get very busy. Horses are normally inspired by the smell of poo and they are all grazing close to the poo pile. Not today.
A gust picks up the cardboard box, shakes open the top, and discards all of my plastic bags in the vicinity. I go round collecting them up and hope that no-one has done anything surreptitious. Second Poo Patrol commences. Sit back down.
Water trough overflows. Run into the yard to turn the tap off and disconnect the hose. Was I gone too long? Third Poo Patrol. Sit back down.
Horses are all standing in a line like can-can dancers, some facing towards me and others away. What with the breeze and the insects, their tails are continuously moving and Pie, in particular, has a high tail carriage - could that be? Was it? Patsy stands and looks pensive, or could she have COLIC?
Jack takes a long, long drink and should pee for England. It's Patsy that wins the race to go first. I pick up three little bags, in case anyone else gets inspired, and go and collect a nugget, shall we say, of her poo. The bags are small and the nugget was big and I am now being pestered by seven equines, all wanting to know what I am doing. Dave goes next and now I've got one plastic bag in my left hand, that's Patsy, and his in the right, fingers covered in muck and Henry decides to go but I can't find it. Ah, clever mule is always worried about leaving clues as to her whereabouts, so she has park it on top of Patsy's. Patsy left hand leftest, Dave left hand rightest, Henry right hand. Back to the barn, put the right form in the right post bag with the right small bag and there's poo all over the forms and the postage bags are difficult to open without licking you fingers. I've had to write the horse's names on with a thick marker pen and I haven't got anything else to fill in the other details.
Sit back down. Relax again. And now the unpleasant Fritham dog chorus starts. This field used to be my haven but now there are several demented collies, one of which barks incessantly when she is let outside and that is most of the time. One of the other set along the road howls relentlessly when the other, younger, dogs are taken out.
The Fallow deer stream across the fields, all fifty of them, and sit in the Circle to watch proceedings. In the sky, a Red Kite is searching for carrion and a diminutive Kestrel is looking for mice. There's a little Lapwing that keeps going in and out of the barn so I move my chair along a bit so that he has a clear flight path.
The sun coming out from behind the clouds activates a large fly and Theoden gallops about pretending to be a friend when really he is trying to pass it off. I have shut the far field gate because no one is leaving here until they've taken a s**t!
Nelly: "Are my hooves okay? Could you rub my ears please?" Nelly, do go away.
With 3 down and 4 to go, the equines divide themselves up into couples, one who has been and one who has not. My eyes are like a kaleidoscope, and they feel as if they are being stretched as I try to observe all of them at the same time.
At long last, Theoden and Nelly do their duty. More bag packing. More investigations. I decide to pack up as much as I can and sit in the shade of the oak tree to wait for Jack and Pie. I discover an undiscovered new poo and have to wait for one of them to go in order to work out who was in fact my poo champion. And of course, it was Jack.
I sit in the car with the nub of an ancient pencil to fill in the rest of the forms and wonder what the vets will make of my childish handwriting and my childish implements, and then I chuck them in the postbox at Godshill and hope that I have not jammed the letterbox and that none of the packages will leak.
So there's no photos of my beautiful horses in their rich summer coats because I left my phone in the car and didn't dare go and get it in case it led to any further identification problems.
