First light saw a classic pincer movement on the ridge, I took a left flanking manoeuvre and my beautiful and oh so patient wife took a right flanking move with Chester is support.
Somewhere out here was a very naughty shitland pony, only 500 hectares to search.
I spotted our quarry after over an hour's negotiating unfamiliar geography, the right flankers had retired after Chester started playing up seeing the militias horses running free.
Eventually I got them cornered, all 40 or so. I say cornered, I mean in the same vicinity as myself and so began the merry go round, I lost count of the number of times I circled the herd and they circled the trees. At the point of giving up I remembered what a horse botherer had told me, so rather than imagining cutting up naughty pony into pan frying bite sized chunks I imagined walking through the herd, taking hold of him and slipping on his head collar. I also imagined winning the lottery, world peace and the second coming. None of it happened but we all got so dizzy that we stood still (the rest of the world carried on spinning) and the Karma Police arrived. A long time ago, hidden in the archive pages, I helped a white mare on the hill. As we were all stood contemplating our futures said white mare came out of herd and said hello. This then made others come forward or at least not bolt when I stepped forward and eventually imagination paid off and Trevor was wearing a head collar and trotting home.
In the same vein of good turns another one was repaid today and a nice man with a very big toy turned up and moved the massive pile of gravel making a very passable ramp up to the runway which, we discovered, can take the ten ton weight of farm machinery and so several tons of pooh was moved semi mechanically. Semi as it was diesel driven away, we had to load the bucket scoop by the shovel full, hence the feeling like my arms are dropping off.
The big green monster was well camouflaged.
And end of play saw a huge hole where the pooh had been.
Some of the muck was taken several miles down the road to fill these raised beds, the good turn repaid. This paddock is where the pocket rocket is being transferred to tomorrow. That should curtail his annoying antics.
Getting the muck to the garden was a tight fit
and nearly went to plan had a bag not have split right at the last. More tomorrow!
1 comment:
Good to hear that Trevor is no longer wondering free. He probably came to visit the others when no one was looking. And hopefully this paddock's fencing will be stronger than his cunning tricks of escape. And taller than he can reach as well.
Kit
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