Stop Gap

We are used to a certain level of mayhem at Rock HQ, some animal inspired, other at our creation (usually mine) but today for some two hours chaos reigned supreme. All thanks to Thor the Boar.

After yesterdays debacle where he climbed out of the new pig pen where the beds were soft, girls aplenty and food twice a day, in preference to standing under his beau, Apollo the Gypsy Cob, plan B was put into action.

Plan B entailed putting him back in the pig pen and then watching to see his favoured exit, heading him off and putting a robust obstacle in the way.

Sorted.

The magic blue bucket of food was summonsed, the door to solitary confinement opened and what should have happened is Thor follow bucket and Plan B enacted.

What actually happened was Thor ran straight to his not so secret entrance to Corral OK, shoved his way through a ring feeder and began courting Apollo. William, the Welsh Cob took exception to the sudden appearance of pork and while I tried to work out why the allure of the blue bucket failed, he began to make life threatening Kung Fu moves on the randy pig.

Thus began a race up and down the runway with Apollo being chased by Thor being chased by William while Hetty tried to hide on to of the muck heap.

Kayleigh the agoraphobic goat had all her worst fears about outside confirmed when she stuck her head out of her stall to see where her breakfast bearer had got to and saw the above menage a trois hitting her gate at full speed. She bolted before the earth moved, William fell on his backside, Apollo and Thor made the return journey just in time for the magic blue bucket, gripped by yours truly, to regain its former allure and within seconds bucket lay abandoned (ungripped) on floor as cow, pig and two crazy horses claimed ownership.

Drastic action was required to bring some form of order the chaos, Apollo was to be the sacrifice, plan being that he would be led from food scrummage, Thor would see the love of his life departing and dutifully follow and at some point be persuaded to join the waiting sows.

This might have worked had it not been for Apollo's desire for freedom rather than pork and once in the yard bolted down the lane with the amorous sausage factory in pursuit. William watched Apollo disappear and threatened to join him but was persuaded to stay by my beautiful and oh so patient wife's voice of absolute authority.

Just as fast as Apollo disappeared he returned, the cause of his velocity immediately apparent, Trevor the pocket rocket hanging on his tail. As they careered along the lane William redoubled his efforts to escape and at one point had his front hooves over the five bar gate. Chester safe in the stable began to kick the door, add to this the sound of the magnificent seven barking encouragement you might begin to understand why I had a SOHF.

Thor was now oblivious to the equine carnage at one end of the plot and somehow I managed to get him in with the girls. Apollo trundled past, slower now and was halted by grabbing a handful of mane and some veiled threats, he was happy to go back to the Corral OK.

Trevor was happy that no ponies bigger than him were roaming free.

Pulse rates began to return to normal, I got the necessary tools to sort the pig pen and order was in the process of being restored.

Despair took on a whole new meaning as Thor, having been in with the girls hardly long enough for a coffee yet alone form a meaningful relationship, was now back in the lane and hell bent on finding his pony.

I wont go on, but imagine more of the above but with much more swearing and threats to fetch the gun until finally after an hour and forty five minutes a very sulky boar was "persuaded" to get back in with the sows.

This time no chances were taken, Tracey stood guard while I ran (well sort of, a quick walk) to get the fencing tools. In the time it took he was out again, but this time his secret was revealed, he doesn't climb five bar gates, not completely, on two of the gates that make up the pen, the spacing in the top bars is everso slightly wider than the other four, so pig climbs up, pokes head through and then slithers through the just wide enough gap flopping on the floor the other side, he then climbs out over the stock fence.

Several planks of wood hastily nailed into the gap and the boring boar was/is contained. He is now sulking, but at least he is where he should be and not sausages (yet!).

And we were only two hours late to a lovely lunch cooked for us by a very good friend who also gave us some runner ducks to come home with. And a cake for little t, and toys for little t, and lots of happy memories.

Day 4 30 30 lvl 10 endurance hill 12.1 km (Regatta de Blanc, The Police)

Double trouble

Apollo the pretty boy pony has me very well trained. Everyday he hangs over the small pedestrian gate by the water tanks knowing I will walk past, and every day I open said gate and allow my white and brown wondersteed access to the hayledge. This infuriates his best friend and top dog horse William the very handsome Welsh Cob who then looks horsey daggers at me until I relent and let him out or throw fresh armfuls of sweet smelling roughage for his personal consumption.

Rarely, if ever do I let him out where he has unfettered access to the big round bale as unlike Apollo, William has a tendency to wander. Not far, usually just 30 feet in front of yours truly as I trudge round after him until one or other of us gets bored and gives in.

This morning as I began the morning rounds I was reminded by my beautiful and oh so patient wife that I had committed a major error and had left Apollo out all night. Fear not good wife I shouted over my shoulder, Apollo is a good pony, he knows the rules, he will be where he should be ready for breakfast.

Regular readers will not be surprised to read that he was not where he should be in fact he was nowhere where he should. Misty on the other hand, the petite and dainty shitland imminent nuclear explosion was lurking behind the bale, as were several Ryelands and a Bernese Mountain Pig. I congratulated Misty on her cleverness at negotiating the pig shaped hole in the fence and helping herself and with supreme confidence set off for The Cauldron where Apollo would no doubt be. Confidence waned massively when I found the side gate open, the Pgoor had struck again. This side gate requires muscles like Arnie used to have to open and close it and yesterday as I went in search of Pedro a second time this gate was most definitely shut.

William and Apollo were loose which could only mean one thing. Distance.

Spotting some fresh horse debris along the lane I made my way round to the Technohermits cave. No fresh horse bones decorated the entrance and he was in a good mood cleaning his teeth with what suspiciously looked like half a squirrel. No no horses had passed he foamed at me.

This meant I had gone the wrong way. I doubled back and entered The Cauldron was devoid of equine, and Trolls so it was relatively safe to cross the swamp. Half a mile on two naughty ponies watched me from the gorse bushes as I tried to appear casual in my approach. William snorted in contempt as the pretty boy pony spotted the blue feed bucket and abandoned solidarity for calorific gratification. The walk back would have been quicker had Apollo been able to see where he was going but once he had his head in the bucket he was not going to give up eating easily. Finally both were back in the slammer, and I was only 15 minutes late to the office. Not bad for a Monday!

Filling out

William our Welsh Cob cross Bronco has come on nicely since we turned him out on the slopes of Bonsai Mountain. Its helped that he has unlimited food supply by way of hayledge, and as much poultry feed as he can steal, but the end result of stuffing in the calories and countless ascents and descents is a muscle bound hulk who might just be able to carry yours truly on his back without snapping like a twig. The memory of my last attempt to stay in control of the beast as he tried to chuck me through the bedroom window still haunts me but I am willing to give it another go as long as he doesn't.
Other top news is that my compensation for having such rubbish unfair ex-employers arrived, late obviously but the poor lambs are probably a bit strapped so lets not worry unduly, its here that's the main thing, a cheque granted, but it cannot bounce as they had to pay the Court and the Court paid me, the winner, my just reward. Its a life enhancing amount rather than life changing, but it will pay for a few days rest and recuperation and a few treats. Rather than waste it on essentials like foam cowboy hats and bats and balls I have decided to buy a bright orange cement mixer. Yes flush with successfully hanging a gate x2 I am overwhelmed with optimism for future DIY projects here. All of which require a cement mixer. Once I find a new red crayon I shall rough out a few grand designs and let you all know what I am up to.

The Fellowship of the Ring

The Fellowship of the Ring is broken.

It was a valiant attempt to unseat the King from the throne, but alas, for them, fortune did not favour the brave and their ill timed rebellion was crushed and they all went to bed with no dinner.

It was most likely my fault. Perhaps I should not have laughed when, after much effort on my part, the water started to flow at high velocity along the 20mm water pipe. Had I thought I would have checked to see that there was no shitland pony called Trevor biting the free end hanging over the trough, hoping to catch a dribble of fresh water. I did look up in time to see his cheeks bulge as a million gallons of ice cold water suddenly filled his mouth. Pointing and laughing only sowed deeper the seeds of the later rebellion.

The boys, William, Apollo, Trevor and their sidekick Misty (a girl pony) are in a routine that goes roughly along the lines of wake up, wait for servant to open bedroom door, stretch, wander lazily to the hayledge in the Ring, spend all day eating while servant cleans and tidies bedroom, watch as servant appears just before sunset with buckets of tempting goodies, note carefully the goodies placed in bedrooms, wait impatiently at gate for servant to get a move on and open gate, wander into bedroom, ignore platitudes from servant and get nose down in bucket, have servant shut bedroom door and turn out light, create Himalayan range of horse dung for servant to shift later, lick salt block, snooze and do it again in the morning.

So aside from laughing at Trevor's water boarding mishap I was guilty of complacency. A sin that if committed by smallholders seldom goes unpunished. Putting the ponies to bed is easy. Five minutes max.

Which is why last night I was to be found shivering in the lane in unlaced boots, no torch, wearing a t shirt instead of the arctic gear I had been wearing earlier, because after all, this would only take five minutes I cheerily shouted to my beautiful and oh so patient wife as she reminded me to put my coat on as I set out to put the ponies to bed. The four ponies had gone through the motions of wander towards stables but at a key moment failed to enter and cantered down the lane. Misty who is as fast moving as a comatose Eeyore wandered miserably after her fleeing companions whinnying at being left behind. I followed after grabbing a feed bucket to tempt them with.

By the time I rounded the bend in the lane even Misty the wonder Sloth had disappeared into the night. Somewhere out there were four naughty ponies and 500 acres to play in. The tracks in the snow helped with direction, but each time I got to a point where they might be, the tracks led further away. Every now and then a whinny of temper from Misty prompted me not to give up and get back to the warm of Rock HQ and my coat. The whinny got louder, this one was real fury. The tracks ahead split, three went one way, Misty another, I presumed the whinny was her telling the boys they better make their whereabouts known. I followed Misty's little paw prints, up to the Ghost House, where she stopped and doubled back along the hedge line. As I descended toward The Oracles homestead I wondered how on earth four ponies could hide so well against a snowy bonsai mountain and how much I could sell horse meat for.

Finally I found them milling around like naughty teenagers. William advanced, ears back, your empty bucket trick will not work on us, he was saying, but in horsey, if he could talk we wouldn't worry about paying the mortgage, anyway, bluff was called, what you going to do, there are four of us in the Fellowship of the Ring, we will not be broken.

He was right of course. Me shivering with cold armed with an empty bucket was no match for a naughty Welsh Cob with an eye on the crown. So the next weapon in the armoury was deployed, divide and conquer. Holding Apollo firmly by the forelock words were exchanged along the lines of "For you Tommy the war is over" and with the promise of a full bucket if he behaved Apollo fell in behind and plodded after the true herd leader. Misty sensing she might share Apollo's good fortune dropped in alongside while William and Trevor cantered up and down trying to convince their former allies that all was not lost, they could win.

William continued his defiant stance right until the bolt was kicked over on the other's doors and suddenly the yard was a very large and lonely place. Mustering the dignity of the defeated he entered his stable without an apology while I did my best not to gloat. Fifty three minutes after the start of my five minutes outside I was defrosting on the range which was nearly as warm as the glow of victory.

World War 3 averted!

These two are firm friends, provided William the big Black Welsh Cob doesn't feel like he has to compete for food, shelter or affection he loves having Apollo around.

There are clear designated areas in the yard, those that belong to Williamand everyone else's. William always feeds from the right hand side of the hay stack, Apollo, two goats and eight sheep share the left hand side. William has his own stable and is very happy for anyone to look at it, but if they even consider any form of physical encroachment on his turf he will teach them the error of their ways with a sharp bite or a stealthy hoof, unless they are humans bearing gifts or forks to clean out pooh he hates anyone or anything being in his space. Many a goat or poultry has been seen to fly out of the stable door sideways with an accompanying ooof as they overstepped the mark and out stayed their welcome.

Tonight World War 3 was averted by luck, darkness and the swift action of yours truly. Forget any troubles in the middle east, if this Welsh Cob had of spotted what was going on all hell would have let loose.

As always it started innocently enough, in an equine equivalent of did you spill my pint Apollo stumbled into William as he was taking huge mouthfuls from the haystack. William forgave that misdemeanour as Apollo backed off smacking his lips and apologising profusely. I was busy cleaning out the fresh mountain ranges of pooh from the stables and once done fetched a huge bucket of horse nuts for the beasts to share. Now Apollo has an annoying habit of smashing buckets at the moment and as tonight's remains were dragged out of his stall it was obvious the plastic container had met its match and was no longer capable of holding the horses dinner. So I went into Williams stall and tipped half the bucket of nuts into his intact bucket and took the new bucket into Apollos stall and placed it carefully in the tyre that serves as some form of bucket protector.

I carried on cleaning out the pooh form Apollos stall. It was quiet, the cliche too quiet. I should have with me a foal called Apollo kicking the crap out his new bucket and scoffing his nuts. I looked out into the darkness, William was munching hay. Apollo was nowhere to be seen.

Something prompted me to go and look for him. He was in Williams stable eating Williams dinner, a capitol offence if spotted by the big horse. Without drawing attention to the crime I tip toed in beside Apollo and gently frog marched him out of the stable clearing the door just as William spotted the intrusion. Placing myself in the line of attack I yelled, "Leave him, hes not worth it" diverting William into his stall while shoving Apollo up the backside so he lurched into his stable. I slammed the door just as a very irate Welsh Cob appeared at my shoulder wanting to settle matters having now discovered half his dinner was gone.

His pride severely dented he attempted to bite the dogs before going into his stall to eat the leftovers. Half an hour later he was still seething, his ears pressed flat against his head in temper.

Apollo on the other hand looked very pleased with himself.

Dark autumn thoughts

It doesn't happen often but there are occasional days where I question whether or not smallholding is for me. Its been two years hard work, both Tracey and I work full time to be able to live here, then there is the hard work once we get home, the never ending jobs list, the weather and the behaviour of our animal clan all sometimes seem to conspire to make things extraordinarily difficult. Life was so much easier in our three bed modern semi.

Our two year celebration of having survived all that's been thrown at us was slightly muted by a letter from the bank informing us of a 50% increase in our mortgage payments. I say slightly as in the same way the Titanic was a slightly bad shipping disaster. Due to the current financial climate no new mortgage deals are available to reduce the cost of living here and the monthly payment is now at a level where we could rent a medium size farm for less.

It caused a couple of dark days where plots similar to Guy Fawkes were imagined to punish the wonderful bankers who created the current bust but they left me when I went for a walk around the hill. The autumn colours proved a useful distraction, as did the dogs charging around the dead bracken. I even managed to lose Faith, the Gordon setter, entirely for the walk, she does have a bright orange coat especially for this time of year so I can spot her on the hill, but today she disappeared until I rounded the final turn home and she came running towards me.

A bush spoke to me along the way.

Two years ago I would have been startled that foliage should suddenly find a voice, but having Mad Keith the techno hermit as a neighbour its common for him to spring up from the greenery, hopefully fully clothed, and start a conversation that either enlightens or completely baffles. Only last weekend he jumped up from a gorse bush exclaiming "Is that an orse?"

As I was gripping the lead rope of William the Welsh Cob I felt it was safe to reply "Yes Keith its an orse"

He climbed down onto the track, William eyed him closely, retaliate first is his motto and no strange man leaping from bushes was going to get one over on him. "Have you ever had an orse Keith?" I asked, hoping he would realise by had I meant owned and not anything unsavoury. He shook his head and patted William chuckling to himself, "No." there was a very long pause punctuated by a plop plop plop sound as William left his mark on the track. "I had a cat though" Keith added, "He was called Tim"

I looked up the hill to the rough location of a piece of tin on the hillside with TIM painted on it marking the cats mortal remains. Keith started down the hill "I got another" he shouted over his shoulder

"Whats he called?" I shouted back

"I dunno, I call him lots of things" and the hermit was gone.

It wasn't the hermit who spoke from the bush yesterday, but a traveller who was visiting his horse, Molly, who is on the hill. Molly is massive, able to eat a whole apple in one mouthful and the most gentle attentive beast imaginable. I saw him before he spoke but let him think he had surprised me, we spent a very nice ten minutes or so passing the time of day, talking about the weather, about his horse, how worried he was that she was up here alone. I found I was able to keep up with what he was saying, obviously I had learned a thing or two about horses and didn't make myself look a complete idiot. We parted company and I promised to keep an eye on Molly for him. It might sound daft but that conversation with the traveller confirmed that it really is worth all the effort to live here. The beauty of the place, the community of the valley all make life worth living. Any doubt I had was further expelled on my return to Rock HQ, as I turned my back on Trevor he gently reminded me that he was there by biting me.

Life's great isn't it!

Rampaging Ryelands

A regular reader of these pages will not be surprised by the clip here of the Ryelands spotting a free lunch and descending like locusts on a felled tree. They have voracious appetites and regularly engage in fisticuffs with other species over meal rights. Most recent examples recorded are their blatant attempts to stop the pigs getting into the trailer by filling it themselves once they spotted the bait laid to entice the pork, I mean pigs to their final destination. Last week they upped their game and took on William the Welsh Cob, a very placid and laid back chap unless you interfere with his calorie consumption, even he was driven off his food bowl as they flocked into his stable like a great woolly tsunami and refused to be driven off either by a bad tempered horse or his equally bad tempered owner.

Feeding frenzy over they focus on other pressing matters like formation pooing, this entails them taking it in turns to dump on any clean bit of path, concrete, rock or grass until a suitably slimy mess has been left which will hopefully catch their part time shepherd unawares as he approaches in the darkness of the early evening causing him to slip and launch skywards the bucket of feed destined for another species. The resulting cacophony of swearing and bucket suddenly emptying sound acts as a rallying point to the sheep lurking in the shadows.

Another favorite is for a sheep to take one for the team and lie in wait, placing themselves directly in the path of the oncoming bucket carrier. This is a high risk strategy as said bucket carrier is no light weight and by bringing him down they risk substantial crush injuries. Bucket carrier inevitably prevents total change in circumstance from vertical to horizontal by jettisoning bucket and flailing good arm in the dark to re-establish balance.

There is only one thing that distracts them from their quest for gastronomic gratification, that is the ram Crispy. This morning they were not in their usual locations waiting to cause mayhem. The gate to Crispy's field lay flat on the floor, the woolly hoarde had broken in and from the look on his face they had a wild night of it.

I expect we shall see the results next March. Time does fly on the smallholding.

Another long night

This is Katy crashed out on the doorstep five minutes ago. I know how she feels. Its been a long night at Rock HQ.

One that started well, and hopefully has ended well.

As from five this evening we started our holiday, eleven days at Rock HQ, fantastic, and right on cue the sun started shining and Tracey and I decided to have an early dinner on the patio in the evening sunshine before we got on with our jobs. Our holiday could not have got off to a better start, sitting in the sun, enjoying a glass of wine and marvelling at the view from the garden.

Paradise found.

All was well in our world.

Until I went to the stable. William our Welsh Cob usually scoffs down his supper as soon as it appears. Tonight he stuck his nose in it and moved it around. I watched wondering what was going on, he looked ill, his head was low, ears back and he wasn't interested in his surroundings. His surroundings were different, normally this horse makes scale models of the Himalayas in pooh for us to clear up, hardly a plop in sight. This did not look good.

Tracey came to see and was convinced the poor horse had colic, this can either mean he needs a good fart or could prove fatal. Walking tends to ease it so we set off with the magnificent seven down the lane. Things rapidly took a turn for the worst as he tried to lie down, this was a very bad sign, if he lay down it would mean he wanted to roll and could twist his gut which can lead to death. He was persuaded to stand and walked back to his stable where I stood with him while Tracey phoned the vet. As she was inside he sat down on his bottom like a dog and tried to get his head down. After a quick wrestling match ended by a slap on the backside he got back to his feet and I walked him around the yard until the vet arrived. Luckily this vet only took forty five minutes to get here which meant William and I only completed 147 circuits and 89 figure of eights in the yard while we waited.

Gabriel the vet did all the right things, and was happy to report that Williams heart was beating normally, mine was taking a bit longer to settle, his temperature was normal, whereas I was sweating like a backpacker at a Baghdad checkpoint and he concluded it was likely that William would be OK after a quick shot of pain killer and something to settle his tummy. Unlike humans this is not a simple matter like taking a glass of Andrews Liver Salts, no, horses have to be injected in the jugular vein. By now William was feeling a lot better and if anyone thought they were going to stick a needle in him they were going to be made to reconsider the rashness of this action.

Finally after he had shoved us all around the yard for having the audacity to try and give him medication the patience of Gabriel had been tested enough and he decided that a horse with that much energy would make a recovery unaided.

William is now under observation in the stable, he seems well enough.

I on the other hand feel like I have run a marathon and done ten rounds with Frank Bruno.

I need a holiday!

White knuckle ride

Another day marking great progress at Rock HQ. William our fantastic welsh cob cross was backed for the first time by Tracey. This is a technical horsey term meaning sitting on the beast for the first time to see what will happen. Hopefully it wont end in a trip to casualty.

Now we do have a plan, one which involves getting our animals to trust us completely and as a result they tend to accept what we do without fuss or stress. Having said that there is always the potential for disaster, the animals can decide to do what they like, as in the case of Maggie the psycho goat having her feet trimmed. First attempt led to a strategic withdrawal by the humans at Rock HQ both having suffered injuries. The following day she submitted meekly to the indignation of a compulsory pedicure without recourse to extreme violence.

So we have invested a lot of time getting William used to our antics, he is a very placid lad and has only been a bit naughty from time to time, on one memorable occasion galloping off around the hill with his stable mate the pocket rocket, each goading the other to run further away from home until they were eventually headed off at five ways crossing by a very hot and bothered owner and marched back to their stable.

William has shown signs of how much he trusts us, lying down in his stable and staying put while we made a fuss of him was an indicator of how he was developing (see things you don't see everyday posted a few months ago) and he really is a people horse, coming over to see us even when distracted by food.

So today after a quick leg stretch walk and being made to give up his grazing early he stayed in a cheery mood and waited by the pile of steel gates. Once we were sure he was calm Tracey sat on him, this video shows how he took it. He hardly reacted at all, this is it has to be remembered totally alien to a horse as they would never have a weight on their back in the wild. As you can see he just carries on munching his dinner, listening to the noises around him and unconcerned that the dogs are as ever roaming around. I must admit to breathing a huge sigh of relief as Tracey got off him, it was a great test of her relationship with him and it shows what can be achieved with trust, patience and good horse sense.

He is not old enough to ride yet, we have to wait another ten months or so, we will use him to assist on the farm meantime, and that's a whole new set of tricks William and his humans have to master.

All dressed up, no place to go

This is our bomb proof Welsh Cob cross called William. His first time in all his new kit, the blankets moved a bit during his exercise walk but apart from that he took to it very well. We are going to back him at the end of the month which involves sitting on him for the first time and praying.

Thinking in circles

The weather this week has been grim but we have still had a good week. The garden had taken a battering from the torrential rain but apart from a few small lettuce being ripped apart by the deluge it all seems to be surviving. Today I was going to plant out more seedlings but again the rain has thwarted my planning.


Instead I took William our magnificent Welsh Cob around the hill as exercise for us both, I never grow tired of the views and at the moment the fields are taking on different shades of green and gold as various crops ripen or farms gather the hay and silage.

William was well behaved as usual and we are both getting fitter as this time neither of us had to stop as we made the hilly circuit. Because of the rain we weren't tormented by flies either so in all it was a pleasant amble round. We saw our Suffolk's high on the next hill eyeing us suspiciously and getting ready to bolt if we showed any indication of turning their way.

Our route took us past the other houses on the hill, all were empty as usual, all very imaginatively have the same name as the hill differing only by being referred to as lower, middle and upper. I think its only been on two occasions have all the houses been occupied in the last 18 months. We share the hill with Mad Keith the technohermit and as we walked past his abode all was quiet, he has kept a lower profile than usual since he escaped from hospital last week.

The path took us to the Haunted House on the hill, this squat white walled building with its peeling black paintwork was a silent witness to our progress. Our neighbour, The Oracle, wouldn't venture as close to the house as William, four of the magnificent seven and myself now found ourselves. The house stands alone in a small garden which, despite the fact that the fence is down along one side, sheep never seem to venture into. Our garden only has to have the gate open for a few seconds and feral sheep rush in and strip the place of all consumable foliage, but this one they never seem to get into. The field to the rear and side of the house has nettles, thistles and weeds whereas the Haunted House has a verdant green lawn. As I listened to the lazy plod of Williams hoof fall I pondered on the fact that the dogs also looked like they were avoiding going too close as they all crossed to the other side of the track and had definitely sped up. William and I crossed the front of the house, me looking for movement at the dark windows, he ears pricked forward eyeing up the lush grazing opportunity passing him by.

We began the steep descent to the main track leaving the house alone. Perhaps the stories about the house are true. The Oracle certainly believes them.

Fresh marks on the wet grass showed that Mad Keith was out on his bike somewhere so presumably his indigestion is better. William isn't the most chatty of walking companions so I let my mind wander, thinking about how life has changed. All those years racing round on motorbikes at suicidal speeds, the extreme sports, the adventure training and lengthy expeditions away from home, the endless training, I was the absolute gym rat, I was, I concluded, undoubtedly looking for something.

As I returned to Rock HQ with my one horse power and my four wet canine companions, despite the rain, I felt an incredible sense of wellbeing, I felt extremely happy I had left that all behind.

This is what I have been looking for, my life with my family and animals here at The Rock.

Walking with William

I have just got in from walking with William, who it appears is the biggest fly magnet in the history of the world. Without resorting to hyperbole there were at least a million buzzing around us, some as big as flip flops and all intent on exploring and taking chunks out of this tasty equine feast and his human companion.

However having this annoying cloud of biting insects accompanying us as we circumnavigated the hill failed to detract from the simple pleasure of plodding along with a fantastic horse. He sees me as herd leader and so dutifully walked either alongside or one half pace behind.

Had he walked a full pace behind he might have saved painfully treading on my heels every other step, but at least he has given up trying to push me off the track and into the gorse bushes. He accepts I am boss, unless Tracey is around and then he sees her as boss.

Obviously.

Hes a smart cookie this one.

We had a brief stop at Five Ways Crossing, pictured here, it really is a wonderful view across the Herefordshire countryside, before turning off and heading back into Wales. We caught sight of Mad Keith, but he didn't want to talk today and hid, not very well as we could see him but we didnt let on in case he got upset and put us in one of his spare pits. We also found our two mental Suffolk sheep, Molly and April who galloped off down sheep skull lane the second they recognised me. Poor beasts must be suffering from the heat as they have evaded capture and shearing, therefore they still have a years worth of fleece on their backs. It should start to drop off soon.

Bill is still missing, there are very few sheep on the hills at the moment so he might be pie now, poor Bill.

Back at the ranch William was turned out in the field to cool off and refresh himself.

I returned to the cottage for my own refreshments. A nice supper of new potatoes, Rock HQ quiche and a bean salad. And a very cold cider. I am a lucky man.

The only fly in the ointment, its now pouring with rain and William is still outside.

Quiet evenings, who needs them!

Our mighty warhorse

I was right, it has been a great day. We have spent most of it in the garden planting more spuds, digging more of Williams contribution into to soil and winning the war against intruders thanks to the Great Wall of Rock HQ (fence) erected by Tracey and I over the last few weeks. This mighty construction towers over the beasts that threaten our vegetables. Any bigger and it would be visible from space.

There is one small gap, and true to the rules of smallholding animals twice the size manage to squeeze through. This takes effort on their part and as there is a vast array of tasty goodies available their side of the fence an uneasy truce now exists between stock and gardener. I have only had to evict three chickens, Budge the Jersey Giant Cockerel and a rather surprised beagle who inadvertently managed to get through the gap, thinking I was missing her she braved the thorns and barbed wire and feeling very pleased with herself trotted across the pea seedlings to greet me. Quite what reception she was expected I cannot say, being chased down the path by an irate owner wielding a garden fork probably didn't feature too high on her list and for a nearly sixteen year old dog she managed a remarkable turn of speed as she dashed back through the gap.

Filling the gap is on tomorrows job list.

As I look back over some of the tales from the Rock I often wonder if it's only us that has these adventures, or problems, sometimes near disasters. So much happens on a day to day basis its hard to keep up. Today we found that we are not alone in having to deal with the unexpected.

Tracey was going to the hairdressers, I decided to go and collect the animal feed from Countrywide while she was having a girly moment. As we set off along the main road we always look out for two things. Bernese Mountain Dogs, a friend has three so we look to see if they are out in the garden. We also admire the three working horses in a field next to the road, Shire Horses, massive beasts and they always look fantastic. Today as we drove past we could see one of them had its right front leg over the wire fence, head down it was munching on the grassy verge. It was obvious the horse was in danger, the other two were pressing against the wire and it all looked like an accident waiting to happen.

We turned Rene around and went back to see what we could do. As we stopped alongside the horses we saw in the equine melee a young man struggling to free the horse from the wire. What had happened was the huge Shire had been leaning over the wire and somehow managed to tread the wire down, this had then got wedged between the sole of its foot and its shoe. Trapped, it tried to tread the fence down and had caught its other foot the same way. As it struggled to free itself it ripped one of its huge metal horse shoes off but the left foot remained stuck fast.

There it stood until the farmers son had seen it and he was now trying to free the beast. Now these are big horses, standing over seventeen hands high, about six foot to the top of its shoulder, and the three were stood over the chap desperately trying to cut the wire. Tracey helped him by soothing the worried horse, I stopped the others as they pressed forward to have a closer look. Its a testimony to the gentle and calm nature of these horses that they stood quietly and allowed their owner and two strangers help out one of their comrades in his plight.

At one stage the trapped horse looked me straight in the eye, he seemed to be searching me to see if I was going to be any help. After fifteen minutes of effort the young farmer freed the beast, very relieved he stood up and thanked us for our help. The horses reassured each other that they were fine and began to line up ready to walk back to the farm. We told him we were from the Rock, he was looking after the farm while his parents were on holiday and could have done without his dads "toys" making more jobs for him. We sympathised as he went on to explain that the sheep had broken out yesterday, keen to show his ability to manage while his parents were away the animals seemed to be conspiring to undermine him. We got back into the car as he walked off across the field with three shire horses dutifully following him. Top of his job list now was fencing, no matter what else was on the agenda he had that as well.

We drove past an hour and a half later and could see that he had already repaired the fence. So its not just us that have our days totally rearranged by the antics of the animals we look after.

I would love a Shire one day, they are falling in numbers as no one wants such huge horses any more. Not so long ago every farm had at least one and these loyal beasts were responsible for transporting and getting the harvest in.

For the time being I am happy to learn my horsepersonship with William our Welsh Cob and Trevor our Miniature Shitland. Trevor got a treat today, a wooden hurdle instead of his stable door. This allows him for the first time since moving into the stable to see whats going on, the standard stable door is as you can see a bit too high for him.

I thought as I have been extolling the virtues of Shire Horses I had better show you a picture of our Mighty War Horse stood in his stable.

Scary isn't he?