Continued…
So, every morning, after Hubby had gone to work and I’d fed the cats, I’d load Cassie our dog into the car and off we went to the stables.
I’ve not been well for a while and to start with, it was quite difficult for me to get out and about. I’d only just started driving again, but the goal of getting Maverick healthy enough to withstand the winter got me going again.
The horses were in the field beyond the top paddock and they started getting to know my routine and soon, they started ‘shouting’ to me when I got there. They heard the gate open and they would neigh. To a horse lover, that has to be one of the most heart-lifting sounds there is.
I’d get the horses their feed and take it down to them, slide the feed buckets under the fence and wait for them to eat.
This went on for a while… Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I’d go up in the morning and in the evening before the light died.
I messaged after every visit, more to let Bev know that I wasn’t letting her down by not going up when I said I was. I’d give her updates and send pictures of what the horses were doing.
Because Bev works two jobs on those days, it would have been 10pm before she managed to get up to them. When the bad weather started drawing in, I worried about her being up there, alone.
On Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, Bev worked only one job, so she got the afternoons to do housework, sort out her own dogs early and then go to the stables. Mia came with us when the weather was fine and on Saturdays, she’d sometimes get to ride her new pony.
Bev and I had a little time to chat on those days and she’d tell me about the new foal she had on order. She’d been sent a link, back in August.
In Wales, there’s a small herd of ponies from the Carneddau mountains that has been untouched by humans for hundreds of years. By ‘untouched’, I mean their breeding hasn’t been mucked-about-with. They are genetically unique and pure-bred as far as wild ponies can be.
Welsh Mountain ponies as I know them are ‘Section A, B, C and D’ and are certified etc. Welsh Mountain Ponies
The Carneddau ponies haven’t been inter-bred with Arabians like the Welsh Mountain Section ponies have.
Bev fell in love with one from a picture on a Facebook post and a friend, Deb, said she’d fetch her pony when she went to fetch some for herself. Of course, I was interested in Bev’s soon-to-be foal and she told me of the preparations we’d need to make.
The stable door would have to have a barrier across the top to make sure he couldn’t jump out and escape. He’s totally wild and will be scared and flighty. He’d have to be kept separate from the big horses because they’d chase him out as he would be a stranger and not welcome in their established herd. We’d have to ensure the fences are all ‘pony safe’ because one line of the fence borders neighbours’ gardens and it’s been known that they find a stray pony eating their veggies…
It all sounded like a lot of work, but a lot of fun!
Bev wasn’t sure if she’d have time or resources to keep the new foal and like an enabler with an addict, I assured her we’d manage… That’s the problem when one addict asks for help from another addict.
Sundays Bev would get a lie-in (until 9ish) and then she’d fetch her boyfriend to come and help out at the stables. Me, Hubby and Mia went up and met them there. There was always loads to do, mending fences, stables, doors, hinges, roofs… not to mention feeding the horses and chickens. Crazy Kevin occupied one of the stables and only Jeff (Bev’s fella) could go in without fear of injury.
It was getting dark earlier and earlier and pretty soon, it was 3pm when I was going to see the horses.
Bev rang me one day.
“I’ve got a day off because I’m going to fetch my new foal. Do you want to come?”
Guess what my reply was…
Off we went, down country lanes, into the next county. Familiar countryside for me, of course, it’s where I went to school, where I met Trev (Hubby) and a lot of our friends still live there.
We parked up outside an old, ramshackle property and went in. There was no one about, but Bev had called ahead and on we went.
At the bottom of the yard, there was a stable and outbuildings block. From inside came sounds that intrigued us. Tiny hooves tip-tapping on stone floors.
I’m pretty sure I was grinning from ear to ear when we rounded the corner.
A tiny herd of itty-bitty horses! Utter heaven for a horse addict!
Deb and Bev are old friends and chatted and caught-up as they worked with the ponies to separate them and get Bev’s cut from the herd. The babies didn’t want to part company and crowded together instinctively.
Deb had brought a few extra to requirements because she thought she could sell them on later. She took out a couple of tiny head collars and slipped one onto one of the foal’s heads.
“I’ll hold him so you can get to yours,” I said to Bev. I held this little pony in the corner and he leaned into me, took a part of my jacket into his mouth and held it quietly. I watched the others milling about and stood in absolute bliss, connecting to a creature that was wilder than anything I’d come into contact with since my childhood.
“Is this one for sale?” I asked.
Deb nodded.
“How much? I think we’ve bonded…”
Dangerous things, horses…
Especially if you’re addicted to them.
Hi, everyone, I’m Michelle and I’m a horse addict. I don’t think there’s any hope for me.
