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.

Saturation Point

Ruth has been in a quandary about whether to put a rug on Prince who has never encountered one before. She has been practising putting it over him and flapping it a little to try to assess whether he might panic once it was fastened on. The horrible weather brought by Storm Eowyn and then Herminia forced her hand at the weekend.

Hmm, I think there has been a cover up.

Cool with it now.

Doris Day (2)

It is most fitting that Julie and I should go to visit Lady Doris of Janesmoor in a full blown storm, just like the night I discovered her seven years ago, all skin and bones up the track from my fields. That night I asked her gently, "Do you want to come home?". She followed me back to the gate and into the yard and that was the last bad day she ever had.

After four weeks with me, having basic medical checks and plenty of food, she was found a place at the Blue Cross, and from there a loving home as a companion. I had hoped to see her a few years ago after the gentleman who had her contacted me, but the pandemic intervened and we lost touch for a while. 

Her whereabouts are still a secret and so I felt privileged to go and meet her. She welcomed me easily and just to remind her I said, "Do you want to come home?" and I like to think that she said, "No thank you, I am very well here." 

Her loaners love her and her companion very much and take good care of their welfare, measuring their weights once a week, They were such pleasant people and I should think that Doris thinks that they are her angels. 

If you want to read about Doris then there is a blog on 20.3.17 and on on 3.4.17. Storm Doris was on 23.2.17.

Skip, Skip

Last weekend, Harri and I went to meet Stephanie and her beautiful Arabians. I have a special soft spot for Bernie, (Eastworth Bernini) who is now a grown up stallion who has been doing a bit of showing. Here he is at his most natural in the winter field.

He has the most amazing temperament and was quite happy to let me give him a loving hug, accepting it with very good grace. 

Like many horse owners, Steph has recently experienced the devastating loss of one of her horses, Eastworth Ahmoshini, known to everyone as Skip. 

This amazing mare has been the backbone of Stephanie's career as a trainer and show producer, and is intertwined with her family too. She achieved wins and championships in the top Arabian classes with Steph and her daughter, Amelia. but turned her hooves to everything from dressage, hunting, movie films, and taking part in the London New Year's Day Parade as well as teaching people how to ride.

There were so many precious and poignant moments which brought tears to everyone's eyes.

 When Amelia beat Stephanie.

Following her father's coffin as a mark of respect.

We all know how absolutely devastating it is to lose a horse, especially when they take away huge files of your own archives.

Sweet Indy

I couldn't resist going to see my friend's rising three-year-old Arabian filly, Indy. For her age, her manners are pretty remarkable and like all Arabians, she is a gifted child.