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!

My new hobby

Speed fencing. Not the skipping up and down waving one arm in the air trying to poke an opponent with a "foil" (give me a broadsword any day) no, this is trying to repair damaged fences while keeping animals the right side of broken fence.
The fun started yesterday afternoon, the pigs were exploring the garden, again. Pam and Bridget made a real bid for freedom and ran off down the track to see the Technohermit. They would have made it into the wilderness save for the lure of the magic feed bucket, that and Technohermit dancing on his bone pile shouting "pork for tea". Suitable chastised the Mangalitzas were put back in the pen, along with their three little piglets who had also joined the escape club. Doing the Sherlock Holmes bit I wondered how they had managed to get out of the garden garden having jumped the fence, they had got out of the garden because I had let them out. But the garden garden, the patch devoid of life thanks to plague of goat, that showed no sign of disturbance, and the gate was shut. By half seven in the evening, when thoughts turn to cheap red and excess calorific intake, a strange grunting from the helipad confirmed that the pigs had a different way of escaping. Guinevere and Morgana were still in the pen, being well behaved Berkshires so they got a free go at the tasty treats put in the pen to coax everypig back. The hole in the fence was easy to find, it being massive, and thanks to some very deft hammer work by yours truly the three strands of barbed wire kept the beasts in their place. I also managed to complete task without striking self with hammer and without being bitten by inquisitive pig.

This evening the jobs list showed that I needed to inspect the fence at the top of Willow Rise. William has somehow managed to be in the yard two mornings in a row, if it was the Pgoor then all the ponies would be there. William had found an exit. I had to do the same and make it an ex exit. I soon found it, in fact the whole fence at the top of Willow Rise was on the floor, barely able to keep lagomorphs (live and learn! thanks) at bay let alone curious ponies. Despite the assistance from one of my little helpers who having black and white vision failed to see large yellow bucket in path so hit at some speed thus distributing the 1000 fencing staples contained therein a considerable distance. He of course sat and watched while I retrieved them, next week hes going to throw a ball to see if I can do other tricks.

Pretty soon the fence was upright once again, the exit had ceased to be, it was an ex exit. For now.

Come on down!

Little Misty leads the charge, William, Apollo, and the pocket rocket, Trevor, brings up the rear while Ferny Fern Fern from Ferntown as ever does her own thing!

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.

Pit Pony

Years ago this little chap might have been unlucky enough to be a pit pony, although thinking about it in reality that should read, years ago there might have been a miner unlucky enough to have Trevor the shitland as his pit pony. That's more like it. So faced with the task of getting some coal to Mad Keith who lives halfway up the bonsai mountain, on the dark side, he wont see the sun for another month at least, William "volunteered" to venture out into the frozen wastes carrying a sack of the black stuff to the frozen Hermit's abode. William is a tame and calm animal whereas Trevor is a maniac who would stamp the brains out of anyone who dared ask him for help.

Williams growing, so after finding straps and fiddly bits that fitted his girth we set off and despite never having carried a load on snow and ice before he did a grand job. Mission successful and a nice juicy apple was given as a reward.



















Hermit was pleased with result and made the really helpful observation that I had brought my horse with me. The "Funny I hadn't noticed" reply was wasted on him. But William laughed between mouthfuls.

The yard is still an ice rink providing lots of opportunity for amusement for all the animals and the dogs have taken to sitting to watch the chaos unfold. Current chaos involves catching sheep. The Ryelands are coping quite well with being wrestled to the ground and having eye ointment squirted all over their faces in the hope that at least a micro gramme will get into the right place. They seem to be recovering and their appetites are returning now they can see what they are eating.

Totally underwhelmed

We called in on the boys. As you can see they were overjoyed to see us!

A braver woman than I!

I have to admit to being a coward today and I bow down to the superior horseyship of my wife who taught the brute William who was boss (not me, I was the one who pulled the eject lever and baled out first sign of trouble) She is definatley herd leader.

William is now three years old and ready to be backed, which in the world of horse means sit on the beast and show him what life has in store for the next 20 years or so. Now I am to riding what MP's are to justifiable expense claims. I used to ride, but then again I used to climb 300 metre frozen waterfalls, it was a while ago. In my head it all seems so straightforward.

Tracey put the saddle onto William and climbed on, he didn't bat an eyelid. She rode him up and down the lane with me walking anxiously by their side ready to head him off at the pass should he start to muck about. It turned into a bit of an obstacle course for rural hacks, rabbits running out from the bushes, goats suddenly appearing from no where, a flock of noisy sheep the wade through, two Bernese Mountain Dogs enthusiastically chasing bunnies and so on, all failed to elicit any startle response from the trainee horse. He did for some inexplicable reason kick me in the knackers just before the half way point, the automatic punch on the nose response had to be withheld for fear of unseating his rider so muttering oaths and walking funny I followed them home.

We returned to the yard.

My turn.

I climbed aboard.

Its all a bit blurred at this point.

The yard is an extension of the concrete floor I fell on 18 months ago and caused myself a bit of bother (nearly lost it) so I was already wary.

Quite why William decided to do a Silver and Hi Ho away is beyond me but at one stage I swear I was able to see into our bedroom window as Williams hooves flailed the air whilst he reared up and gave it a mighty whinny.

We landed.

I somehow managed not to roll off his back, in fact I rode it out quite well and as Tracey confirmed my "That was a rear wasn't it" remark I ejected off the side adhering to the motto he who lives to fight another day lives.

Tracey on the other hand saw this behaviour as total bad manners (his not mine) and climbed straight back on him and rode him off down the lane whilst telling him in the loud horsey type way that if he had behaved himself he would be tucked up in his stable now instead of walking down the lane in the now falling rain.

Suitably chastised he performed properly and only then did he get to have his nuts in his nice clean stable.

Full of admiration for my wife I went onto the Internet to source some Kevlar armour for round 2.

Or perhaps I'll ride Trevor, its not so far to fall!

Under Pressure!

Apollo and William are putting the fencing to the test. Its holding out so far but given this type of abuse I don't hold out much hope!

Bad Boys!

Its been a busy day at Rock HQ and despite the efforts of the animals to derail the plans to get jobs done all tasks set by humans on the smallholding were completed and had Trevor not reincarnated as Houdini at last light we would have got back indoors before getting soaked in the current deluge from above that is now flooding the workshop.

The horses, collectively known as The Boys, were turned out first thing. Trevor has been out all week as Bailey the rescue greyhound needed his crib. William and Apollo were in need of a leg stretch and were put on Willow Rise, there is absolutely no grass but at least they can exercise. William entered the field with no problem and spent about half an hour running round like a lunatic until his batteries ran out and he turned his attention to the anthills in the hope that they might have a bit more grass on than the rest of the field. Apollo on and in the other hand decided he wasn't going quietly through the gate and set off at a fast pace uphill followed by an even faster pace back downhill. And so a very interesting game began where he ran up and down the the hill pausing just out of arms reach where he became very interested in a clump of bogwort or a narrow leafed plantain until I showed any sign of movement which provoked more equine speed displays. The show finally ended when I risked life and bionic left arm by rugby tackling him as he passed, suddenly having my weight attached to his neck caused a rapid change of direction and whilst I didn't actually floor the beast he found himself running in an ever decreasing circle and was unceremoniously shoved through the gate where he joined William examining anthills.

Without these two timewasters in the yard we were able to get on with an assortment of tasks which included introducing Bailey to someone who will hopefully turn out to be his new Mum, Dawn. She arrived with her son Sam and we all went for a walk with the brindle greyhound. Having briefed Bailey on the best techniques for impressing new owners things got off to a flying start with him planting the worlds muddiest paws on Dawns clean clothes and then sticking his muzzle into Sam's crotch. As we walked down the lane he gave a spectacular display of dog with upset tummy, the bright orange diarrhea could have been straight out of Van Gogh's paint set for Sunflowers, the shade and consistency was perfect.

Having failed to win her over on the walk Bailey was given a second chance on the indoor obstacle course test. Her comment "Is this the clumsiness you spoke of" as he clattered through a series of framed photos, cups of coffee and assorted furniture. His piece de resistance was chasing a cat up the stairs. The whole episode seemed doomed as Dawn, Sam and I sat making polite conversation about how nice well behaved greyhounds are when Bailey returned from his sortie with the cats, wiped the fur from his muzzle on Sam's trousers and looked at me suddenly poleaxed, somewhere in the dog hind brain he remembered his purpose in life, and if he still wanted one he would have to ingratiate himself into these new humans home. The most appalling display of fawning began and as Dawn warmed to the great hairy rat like hound he dispensed with all pretence at maintaining any dignity and rolled onto his back to have his tummy tickled. This was a complete masterstroke and she agreed to have him. He is now back at the kennels where he will go and see the vet to be castrated. Its a high price to pay for new home but long term he will think its worth it.

Much work was done in the garden, many barrowloads of horse do was moved and raked over the raised beds, Trevor in a demonstration of what was to come much later negotiated the goat proof fence and whilst I was busy doing the garden he was busy with his version which included munching the tops off the spring cabbage, stripping the last stalks of sprouts and trampling the garlic. He did however redeem himself by munching through the weeds that had taken over the "spare" bed thus helping clear the way for spring.

His stable disinfected and refurbished he eagerly trotted home and rolled in his new bed. The day was almost done.
William and Apollo were fetched and put in their stables, it was just a matter of rounding up the birds and feeding the dogs and the evening was ours. It was dusk, foul weather approached across the valley, timing was to perfection. It was then that Tracey just checked on Trevor whose stable is at the back. In a masterpiece of understatement Tracey said, "You are not going to believe this but Trevor's gone"

Now both Tracey and I are certain we bolted him in, I even spent several minutes filming him rolling around his new bed yet somehow the stable door was wide open. Little hoof prints showed his direction and speed. Half an hour later on the other side of the hill we found him in almost the exact same spot William and Apollo were found a week ago. Don't try and tell me they don't goad each other on to wind us up.

The rain came.

We got wet.

Inside Rock HQ I checked the classified adverts in the local paper, so far no one seems to want to swap a hamster for a shitland pony.

I shall keep looking.

Best intentions!

Well tonight I did have half a plan just to do a quick couple of lines about Trevor and his fat balls. But as usual event overtook this smallholder who is home alone, aside from 60 or so beasts and Beth with her boyfriend Tom. Tracey is at her Mum and Dads because her Dad is still very poorly. So I was lucky enough to be driven home by Beth who models her driving style on a blindfolded Mr Bean, this time the journey passed without incident and I at no stage felt compelled to grab the handbrake or scream hysterically as she approached every junction.

Back at the ranch I intended to complete all jobs and then get the house not only tidied but completely redecorated before Tracey came home. First job was to muck the boys out who had each dumped a wheelbarrow load of fresh do all over the stable floor. As they have both got used to standing quietly having a munch from the ever decreasing haystack I let them both out for that purpose. I should have paid more attention to the mood of Apollo who was fizzing like an unexploded bomb. Whilst I was moving the latest offerings from his bowels he went off, down the lane at full speed disappearing into the darkness. William and I stood and waited. Soon the reassuring clatter of hooves heralded the wonder foals arrival. William chewed thoughtfully as Apollo circled him in the glow of the anti aircraft lights.

They stood shoulder to shoulder facing down the lane, William looked at Apollo and nodded and both took off down the lane Grand National style at full gallop.

I watched and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

No reassuring clatter of hooves.

Great.

They had whats technically known as done a runner.

I got my less than useful torch and with the Magnificent 7 in full cry set off after them. Precious few signs were there for an experienced tracker like myself to follow but judging by the hoof prints in the ice sheet at the bottom of our lane they had obviously considered turning for home before heading off up the hill towards the Ghost House and Mad Keith's. My spirit lifted slightly when I thought the torch had picked out Apollo but it turned out to be our sheep who panicked in the darkness unable to recognise the dogs as friendlies and so stampeded ahead of me hemmed in on the narrow track. We all got to the point it opened out onto the hill and as if by magic Mad Keith was perched on a rock watching the pantomime unfold. "Hi Keith, don't suppose you have seen two horses run through have you?"

"Yes, just now, they're up there" he pointed further up hill.

Great. I increased my pace, so did the tidal wave of sheep before me. Seven dogs ran amok on the hill looking for geriatric rabbits. I shouted over my shoulder, "Was one a white one?" Mad Keith thought a moment before shouting back, "No. Brown I think"

Half a mile ahead the track split in two, if I didn't head the horses off at the pass they would either head back around the hill or head off into thousands of acres of wilderness. I broke into a jog, unhelpfully so did the sheep. The torch illuminated a horses backside running ahead of the sheep, the panic of the sheep spreading to Apollo. William was just trotting along enjoying the adventure. Unbelievably the whole procession was brought to a sudden halt by the two Berners running back towards us having overtaken us all in the darkness. The sheep formed a defensive circle and Apollo skidded to a halt. I caught up with him, put a dog lead around his neck (it being the first thing similar to a lead rope I could find, be prepared, that would be a good motto to live by) and turned for home.

He was exhausted and shuffled along by my side alternately leaning on me for support or dragging his hooves a pace behind. William followed like a naughty child trying to pretend he wasn't really following and the sheep not wanting to miss out on anything fell in behind him.

And so this convoy of animals made its way back around the hill to Rock HQ. Right on cue as we got to the boundary of The Ghost House Apollo froze and refused to move freaking us all out. I had to drag him whilst at the same time conforming to the legend, don't look back.

Eventually we all got back to the safe glow of the anti aircraft lights and the two naughty boys were shut in their stalls without a goodnight story. This little escapade seriously ate into the time available for redecorating so Tracey will have to make do with just a tidy house on her return tomorrow.

What of Trevor and his fat balls?

Well the little shitland has made the most of his latest eviction from the stable block. The trees in the garden are adorned with fat balls for the birds. Little Trevor has managed to find all these bird treats and eat them all. I am expecting his latest offerings for the garden to pop out strung together in green nets.

Sunshine finally breaks through

A way to describe the last few days at Rock HQ would be manic. What with the usual jobs made harder by the frost, the sheet of ice outside the stables caught Apollo by surprise as he unceremoniously landed on his backside while attempting to be first to the haystack. I was sure William sneered loser as he sauntered casually past a foal doing the best impression of Bambi on ice. Finally in command of his four legs he managed to get to the feed station. However the little foal proved remarkably sure hoofed later in the day when somehow he managed to climb up the slope to Goatanamo, as you can see from the picture he has gained a lot of height in a very short distance and there really is no path.

I must admit to having lost my bottle when it came to fetching him down, already having come a cropper on the same ice sheet and fallen over on the way to the trough to feed the sheep I was loathe to climb up and coax the adventurous pony back to his stable. So I ignored him and as if by magic an hour later he was back at the haystack munching away and so easily led back to his stable.

We have had surprise visitors, JJ and Kay popped in on New Years Day and reunited me with my chainsaw (are they mad? Me, in charge of a chainsaw! Some mistake surely!) and we popped out the next day to visit Tracey's Mum and Dad so Tracey could engage in some retail therapy.

The sublimation printing gear has finally been mastered and we started a small production run of Trevor's mug on a mug. Watch this space for details on how to get official Tales From The Rock merchandise, all proceeds will go to feeding the animals and rescuing others. All will be revealed very shortly and thanks to those of you who have already contacted us asking to buy mugs. You can contact us on the email on the top right corner if you want further info.

The sun has finally broken through and the winter wonderland has started to melt, mind you it is a long process, we are not in a natural suntrap during the winter months, in fact we get lass sun than Trondheim. Rock HQ is renowned for housing alcoholics if truth were known. Quite often Tracey and I are asked if we are happy living here, when we reply yes very, some of the locals reel in horror or their jaws drop in surprise.

Thinking there must have been a terrible murder here or similar we were keen to find out why its unusual to be happy here. First clues came from Mad Keith who could tell us to the minute what time the sun rises over our particular aspect of the hill, and during the winter it hardly gains enough height to shine into the yard until around 1pm. The sun would then be shining on the house until it set if it wasn't for a small woodland at the end of the lane. The sun filters cheerily through the trees but not enough to melt the frost.

This is a fact I curse each day at the moment as I take yet another bucket of water from the cottage to the pigs, horses, goats and sheep as lagging the pipes from the water tanks to the automatically filling drinkers was one job I didn't do in the summer. Preparation is the key to succesful smallholding!

Anyway, the Stable Sprite confirmed for us the locals view of Rock HQ by telling us that Steve the Farrier who has been up here trimming the horses feet had called in to do their horses and mentioned that he had been to the Alcoholics House. The Stable Sprite was confused by this remark but soon worked out it was Rock HQ as the Farrier continued that the lack of Sunshine drove occupants to drink because of the lack of sunlight. It also drives occupants to run up and down the lane shouting at the Quarry which is about a mile away and on a windy day you can just make out some machinery noise. Drives people insane apparently.

Lucky for me these have no effect on me, any noise outside that isn't produced by our animals or me I just put down to tinnitus and I make up for the lack of sunshine by taking vitamin D supplements washed down with a few pints of Spitfire or Black Sheep ale.

Sorted!

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.

Now you see me!

Its been an incredibly busy day here at Rock HQ, the sun shone throughout the day and despite the antics of our animals (see Hercules above trying to hang himself) we managed to get a huge amount of work done. As well as the routine, the feeding, the cleaning and the making sure all inhabitants of The Rock are fit and healthy we set about a revamp of the kennel block.

The above is the view of our smallholding from the hill behind us, ours is the long thin strip in the centre, the kennel roof shining in the middle. Since it was built by Karl last March, and where Karl is no one knows, we think still tied to a tree in Thailand, the kennel block has been an absolute God send. Having housed the magnificent seven while we are at work it has also doubled as a maternity ward for the Ryelands, an emergency shelter for the goats and a temporary store for tools.

The only downside to the building is that when it rains heavily it can flood. A minor setback as it only rains heavily about twice a week (see here comes the flood in the archive) but it does upset the dogs having to take to the life boats every time the weather turns.

The major task of the day then was to prevent the flooding by digging a ditch alongside the building, a task I managed admirably thanks to my new shovel and my bionic arm, the space age metal work only jarred and groaned a couple of times. Soon a foot deep trench ran from the stream, across the ground uphill of the kennel block and down the side out into the lane. Ideally the trench will go up the hill to the spring but for now this looks like it will serve its purpose.

Tracey and I set about rearranging the interior of the kennels, and those that have read these pages from the outset will know that Karl and tape measures didn't get on so he tended to guess lengths and heights which led to us having a six berth kennel block that is twenty four foot long but each of the berths are different and interesting sizes. The internals were dismantled when the sheep were housed inside and trying to put them back together was more trying than a Chinese puzzle.

Faced with a variety of different sized tops, fronts and sides of kennels I eventually opted to make one size fit all by wielding my mighty saw, with liberal applications of five inch nails and by totally ignoring any gaps, holes and overhangs so within hours the job was done. Each berth now had a raised wooden floor (just in case the ditch system fails) a plastic bed and a front and roof that they can sit on and watch the world go by until we get back from work.

It has been mentioned that I have never appeared on these pages, well there are good reasons for that, the main one being that the Tales From The rock are about the animals, not me. I also take most of the pictures so by that very fact alone do not appear. However, Tracey had the camera whilst I was struggling to nail the roof down on one of the berths and rather sneakily she took my picture. As you can see below she captured my good side.





In case that's traumatised you here is a picture of William to take your mind off what you have just seen!

Its cold and wet out here!

Like the proverbial drowned rats!

They didnt take much encouragement to get back indoors.

Kings of the Hill

I spent part of the day exercising the horses today. I had intended to walk all three of them around in turn, for lots of reasons, they are spending a lot of time inside at the moment as its so muddy so it would do them good was one reason, another is because the date has been set for our Offas Dyke trek next year and if I am to complete the 176 miles in less than a week I have to be a tad fitter than I am at present.

Yesterday we had a baconrollathon at work in support of Children in Need, this entailed Tracey and I taking a large piece of bacon into work and cooking all staff and visitors bacon rolls for which they made a contribution. We raised £40 and everyone enjoyed the bacon, except for our resident vegan who contributed anyway. This did mean though that I had access to too many calories, having an abundance of bacon rolls and crab apple jelly proved too tempting and I indulged in breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, early lunch, late lunch and afternoon tea. My commitment to ridding the world of bacon rolls only ended when I drove home and did the evening rounds.

However, scoffing bacon rolls wasn't the only reason I needed to exercise the flab off on the hill today. Last night we were invited to dinner over at Robin and Jenny's. The food and company was excellent but special mention has to be made of the Blueberry and Mango pavlova that Jenny had made for pudding. It was just fantastic, the crisp meringue shell gave way to a mallow soft centre, the fresh fruit and cream, the thing was massive and to my shame I ended up having three servings. All this was washed down with beer, wine, port and whiskey, such over indulgence has a price to be paid, which was three times around the hill.

William dragged his hooves all the way around, taking ten steps forward, two back, he had to be persuaded, coaxed, cajoled, shouted at, dragged, pleaded with almost every step of the way. It took nearly twenty minutes to get along sheep skull lane which is only three hundred yards or so. Goodness knows what got into the stubborn beast but he would advance slowly then gaze off into the distance with a sad expression, every now and then he would whinny. I couldn't tell if he was shouting for help, calling to any other horses on the hill to get this madman intent on exercising away from him or trying to answer the mechanical digger noise that drifted in on the wind every now and then. Whatever it was William turned the forty minute journey into an hour and ten minutes. It took so long I almost missed a surprise visit from the Stable Sprite who called in for a coffee and a chat about butchers.

Trevor, on the second circuit was completely the opposite, the pocket rocket never walks anywhere. I followed in his wake holding onto a long leading rein for dear life rather like an out of control water skier following a boat. Every now and then my yanking on the rope persuaded him to halt briefly which would give me just enough time to regain my balance, steady myself and catch him up before he set off at high speed giving me whiplash injuries as the slack created in the rope suddenly disappeared. When I got back I looked like I had been dragged through a hedge backwards, which was a pretty accurate description for of parts of the journey.

Williams circuit was too slow, Trevor's circuit was too fast, which means Apollo's circuit must be just right.

It was.

He set out with grim determination, straight for the haystack, which was where he stayed happily munching instead of being frog marched around. As far as I was concerned unlike last nights pavlova you can have too much of a good thing. Twice was enough!

Stablemates

The evening winter routine has been adopted at Rock HQ. Venturing outside the protective glare of the sodium anti aircraft light installed on the end of the stable involves me wandering around falling over obstacles and animals in the dark or struggling to stay upright because of the mud. So my world is limited to the safe yellow circle of light that strategically covers the kennels, goat houses and duck house. It still requires negotiating Somme like mudbaths but at least you can see where you are going to fall. There is no point attempting any outside jobs in the evening other than checking all animals are still alive, fed and watered. The only exception to the no jobs rule are the horses.

The horses need to be mucked out twice a day, its amazing how they can convert so much quality fruit and fibre into such copious amounts of pooh. We are often asked by keen amateur gardeners if we have any to spare, well considering each horse can produce a small lorry load daily we can spare a bit. Each horse has its own way of "going", William makes nice neat piles always in the same place and is a pleasure to muck out, he takes less than a minute and he watches with interest as you carry out his number twos forkful by forkful.

Apollo spreads his around with his nose so that the whole floor is covered, as is his face, this needs brushing up, or off depending on which messy bit you are addressing. He tries to help by knocking over the wheelbarrow. The dogs also try to help while you muck out, for some reason they view horse doings as I would Beluga Caviar, a delicacy not to be missed. The wheelbarrow suspiciously empties each time you go and collect a new scoopful.

Trevor the shitland, well it looks like he makes models out of his and then he stamps all over them, he probably makes effigies of me, those he doesn't stamp on he kicks over the walls. Never before in the history of horse ownership has so much mess been made in such a small space by such a tiny horse.

Autumn Colours

We took the boys for a walk today, determined to shake the melancholy mood that has been hanging over Rock HQ, so set off down the track to Worzel Wood and along to the river. Apollo seems to have got over his fear of puddles and happily waded across the ford to the lush grass the other side. The horses spent a few minutes munching before we turned them back towards Rock HQ. We stopped every now and then as the colours of the woodland were quite simply amazing.

William doing what he does best, eating.

Apollo is a close runner up in the speed grazing competition.

Back at Rock HQ we set about the jobs list, wood got sawn, chopped and put away, the Focus was started and driven up and down the track (we still haven't been able to sell this car!)Animals were cleaned, cleaned out, fed and watered. Sandy has, we think made a full recovery but for the time being he is confined to barracks with Daffodil and Bonny as stablemates. Apollo has taken the woolly invasion of his stable very well and last night was curled up asleep with the three Ryelands curled up around him, they looked like a Nativity playset. Oh the times I wish I had the camera with me!

While Tracey and I worked the dogs sloshed up and down the lane and shared their mud enthusiastically with walkers. One of the local militia turned up and got a bit waspy as he couldn't get his quad bike along the lane as our Toyota van has died and partially blocks the track, we managed to translate his squeaking, he wanted us to move the van as he was in a hurry to get around the hill as they were rounding up the sheep, hopefully not for pie fillings. The van hasn't moved for months but with a team effort and more squeaking from the militiaman we managed to shift it, he still managed to get stuck so we had to pick the quad up and carry it the final two feet.

All in all its has been a very good and very productive day, one that has lifted our spirits.

I did at one time get a strange feeling like I was being watched.

Funny what you find lurking in the trees here!

You have been warned!

Fall back

Today has been a day of reflection and indoor jobs due to the torrential rain. I got up early, actually very early as the clocks had gone back so I passed over the chance of an extra hour in bed in my enthusiasm to get on with the major task of the day, namely preparing Bambi for his stay in Mr Whirlpool. Job done I had a nice pelt to dry as a rug, a huge piece of meat hanging from the rafter of the Black Hole and a bucket of choice bits for the dogs to play with. Nothing was wasted.

After a leisurely breakfast of our own bacon and some fresh baked scones Tracey and I got on with tidying up the workshop. An unbelievable quantity of useful bits and bobs had been stockpiled, so much so that it was hard to navigate from one end to the other without tripping. I dragged some really useful cardboard boxes into the sunlight, God knows what I was saving them for as he is omnipotent, me being a mere mortal had completely forgotten their intended purpose. As God was not forthcoming on the clue front I took the executive decision to have a bonfire.

This soon developed into a raging inferno on the driveway as I gave up any pretence of reducing my carbon footprint and gleefully threw everything that looked combustible that cluttered up the workshop floor into the hungry flames. At one point I thought I had burst an eardrum when a can of WD40 that had got caught up in the detritus exploded once hot enough but the amazing arc of flame it exhibited as it flew across the yard, its trajectory watched with interest by William, Apollo and myself, more than made up for the pain in my right ear from the initial bang.

The homemade firework earned me a "look" from Tracey which meant from then on all rubbish was checked for incendiaries and a promise to be more careful. A lone walker came through the yard, somehow she had managed to keep herself clean on the hill. This was soon remedied by Poppy the Golden Retriever who enthusiastically welcomed the walker by liberally coating her in mud. "Don't worry" she cried "I'm used to dogs" but I could tell she didn't mean it as she was talking through clenched teeth.

I found the bonfire a wonderfully cathartic event, there are a few worries and difficulties at Rock HQ but they all disappeared along with the rubbish. Tracey's Dad has had a good day, seems like he will get over this life event without suffering too much trauma. Geisha hobbled out of the stable to see what we were up to and immediately saw an opportunity to get into the feed store undetected so she is getting better. Currently she is sleeping off gorging herself on rabbit food.

We came in just before dark, which was a whole hour sooner tonight. I suppose the bonfire must have been quite big as Steve the electrician had phoned, he lives across the valley, he was just checking we were OK as it looked like the place was on fire.

Cheers Steve.