Yesterday’s post
Start at the beginning
Did you know that horses can act? – Neither did I… more on that, later.
The foals were named Goran and Pagan – Good Celtic names! Goran (mine) means – ‘man of the mountain’ – very apt.
Their New Home
I didn’t have cash on me the day we went to buy baby ponies (foals), but Deb was OK with me taking the money down to her at some point in the near future.
We loaded both foals onto Deb’s horsebox – a fabulous vehicle, converted by herself and her dad from a VW Transporter van. It was exactly like a large horse transporter vehicle, only in miniature – purpose built for transporting Carneddau Mountain ponies.
Deb knew where Bev’s yard was and so Bev and I went off to get things ready.
The way into Bev’s yard is a narrow lane, only wide enough to pass in certain places. Deb drove down the lane, but wasn’t comfortable driving into the yard itself, so we unloaded the foals on the lane.
That was an adventure in itself!
The ponies, as I mentioned, are utterly wild! There are a few videos on Youtube showing the herding process. Though the ponies had got onto the transporter, by the time they arrived at their destination, they’d reverted to their natural state – Completely wild, had never seen humans, and trusted NOTHING! - all in the time it took to get them from one village to another.
Luckily, they’re not that strong… Ha! I’m JOKING! Wriggly, stampy, spinny-turny-twisty little balls of fur! Think Taz, the Tazmanian Devil from the cartoons, but without claws and sharp teeth, but with more ferocity and ability to HURT!
Keeping as far away from him (for his sake) and trying to be as calm as I could, given the length of the lead rope, I managed to persuade Goran to make his way down the ramp. “It’s a good job you’re sure-footed mountain ponies,” I said as I watched him take nervous, tentative steps down the precipitous ramp.
Goran
Suddenly, he took an instant and violent dislike to something – I have no idea what.
Goran threw himself up and away from the big, scary, I-have-no-idea-what and he ended up sprawled on his side on the hard standing of the yard. It all happened in a split second and I had the presence of mind to keep hold of the rope, otherwise, he’d have escaped through the open gate and there’d be one wild pony roaming the fields and hedgerows of Nottinghamshire, because we’d never have re-caught him!
He scrambled up to his feet, legs shaky, eyes wild and staring, trying to figure out what kind of hell-hole he’d arrived at, I’m sure. In the meantime, Pagan had been unloaded, with less drama and the gate was closed. The babies could no longer escape that way!
Bev and I put them into the stable we’d prepped for Pagan’s arrival.
They stood there all lost and lonely, terrified and vulnerable.
We took to calling them ‘The Babies’ and that’s stuck. So, on the yard, we suddenly had 6 animals, ‘The Big Lads’, ‘The Girls’ and ‘The Babies’. Things had got 50% more fun!
In the early days, The Babies stuck to the back of the stable. They took an instant and suspicious dislike to everything that happened, including us going into their stable to clean it out or to feed them. They didn’t like their hay in the hay net to begin with, we had to lay some on the floor, but started nibbling at it, eventually.
Hard feed was a different matter. We feed the Big Lads Honeychop (straw, finely chopped and mixed with honey to bulk-out their food) and a hard feed mix. They gobble it down like it’s going to be their last meal, swapping feed-buckets as they go. But the Babies… so much NOPE!
It was a real milestone when they took their first nibble at something in the bucket.
Another milestone!
Carrots, however, were a different matter. They ate around those suspicious, orange, weird-looking things! Nothing we did could persuade them to even try them. We’d give them tiny carrots to try to persuade them to have a try, but not a chance!
The day we went back to find the feed bucket empty, the delight was short-lived. The carrots had been picked out of the feed and dropped on the stable floor, to be hidden in the shavings used for their bedding. The Babies became adept at hiding the poisonous orange things we, their new captors tried to inflict upon them. The hid them in corners, behind their buckets, under bedding and they even trampled them to mush.
When they settled in and finally became comfortable, we knew, because they'd lie down. That told us they felt safe enough in their new home.
Deb messaged us on Facebook, letting us both know about a group we should join. The Carneddau ponies have certain genetic traits and she told us about the studies on the ponies.
This tail is a genetic marker
I took Deb the money I owed for Goran and we took pics of one of her foals.
They may look cute and innocent...
Life up at the stable yard went on. Every day is an adventure.
