I’m finding it quite fascinating watching the Herd slowly develop. In some ways it’s gone along the lines I expected, and in other ways it’s surprised me!

I expected Poppy to be The Boss because she’s the only adult female, and she is.

I thought Abe would be the senior male because he’s so much older than George, but he’s not – he’s definitely the low guy on the totem pole. George is the senior male, though still very deferent towards Poppy!

Dancer, being a baby, I expected to ‘inherit’ rank from her mother, at least to some extent, and she has – but both boys occasionally warn her off when she’s being pushy, and she also follows them around from time to time. I wonder if she’s just not old enough yet to be ‘junior mare’ and come in ahead of Abe in the status game? I shall be watching with interest as they grow older and the dynamic changes over time!

George is almost always the first one in when they’re coming in together. He’s very often the last out, if I’m around, because he likes to hang out with me (very flatteringly!) and get some attention and grooming.

I’m not sure what to make of this morning’s little incident, though it certainly indicates that the Herd identity is growing strong and healthy!

The horses all came in this morning for a drink of water about mid-morning and I spent a while grooming them. George, for once, wasn’t first in and only paused briefly for a drink before going out again, while the others lounged about the yard in the sun eating hay and letting me brush them. George reappeared round the house once, paused a few minutes, then made off again, all at an unhurried walk.

(George surveying the landscape this afternoon – he’s beginning to bulk up nicely for his age now and his tail is magnificent.)

A few moments later, his distinctive whinny came from the other side of the house – he has a soft, almost blurred-sounding soprano whinny, quite ridiculous in a horse his size – and instantly all three of the others stopped eating and turned to leave, walking away calmly but without hesitation. I followed, curious, and George was standing waiting for them about halfway along the track, ears forward and apparently very pleased with life. As they approached, he turned and led the way out into the field, with Poppy behind him, Dancer following her and Abe bringing up the rear.

He clearly called the Herd and they all responded instantly. Nobody seemed distressed or concerned. they all just walked into the field and started grazing together. I saw George tiptoeing carefully past Poppy again this evening, so he’s still very respectful of her authority!

I don’t know what was going on amongst them, but it’s fascinating!

In other news, we now have bird feeders (a peanut feeder on each end with a seed feeder in the middle) between the kitchen and my bedroom window, and hopefully before long the birds will get over their suspicions of such shiny novelties.

 

I sold my old caravan yesterday so I have a little cash in the bank. Once I’ve taken care of Poppy and Dancer’s flu jabs (next Thursday) I plan to use most of the money on fencing needs – a spare battery for the electric fence and a battery charger come top of the list, closely followed by some wooden fence posts to make corners and gateposts for paddocks in the field.

I plan on keeping a walkway area along the back fence, so the horses will have a permanent long thin ‘paddock’ with 4 or 5 (haven’t finished my calculations yet!) paddocks leading off it. They’ll be in each of these smaller enclosures for 2 weeks’ grazing at most, then they’ll be moved to the next, giving the grass a chance to grow again. If I have 4 paddocks, each paddock gets 6 weeks without horses – if 5, then the rest is 8 weeks.

The idea of the break in grazing is that grass evolved to cope with migratory herds which eat everything in sight – but then move on, so this means that grass deals well with recovering from heavy grazing and comes back strong and healthy after the herbivores move on. From my point of view it means any parasitic worms shed in horse dung can be picked off by passing birds or have a chance to be eaten (and thus killed) by a non-host mammal (deer, or eventually on the Croft, goats) and also I can get out there and pick the muck up in the barrow without George’s ‘help’ if he’s in a different paddock, which reduces the chances of (a) George standing in the barrow and killing it and (b) parasites getting onto the pasture to begin with!

In order to help with my planning, I walked right round the field today counting my paces, so now I have rough measurements. I haven’t yet done the maths to turn numbers of paces into feet or metres (4 of my paces is 10 feet) but it’s a start! Apart from losing count twice (George and Dancer came to ‘help’ and distracted me!) and having to repeat a couple of sections, that went well and I checked for anything fouling the fence at the same time, so that was useful in more than one way.

In other news, I’ve been getting back into a nice steady routine with the horses. They tend to be in the yard when I get up, which is nice, and this morning I discovered that Poppy likes berry flavoured Huel! I use this complete-nutrition powder mixed into a drink to replace meals sometimes; I happened to have a mugful of their berry-flavoured mix in my hand when I was talking to the horses this morning and Poppy showed some interest in the smell of the mug, so I poured a few drops into my hand for her to get a good sniff. She sniffed carefully, then licked my hand thoroughly and came back for more! Dancer sniffed but then wandered back to the haynet; Abe sniffed, then sighed and turned away; George sniffed and then looked at me with a quizzical expression – but Poppy ended up quietly asking for – and getting – half my breakfast!

It’s one way to control my calorie intake!

The horses have been getting more grooming in the past few days, too, when they come back in around lunchtime and again mid-afternoon and evening. Every mane has now been thoroughly groomed, all tails but George’s are tangle-free (his is much thicker, we’re still working on a few long twisty dreadlocks in the middle) and hooves are being handled daily. I’m working on ‘walk on’ with Dancer – at the moment if she responds with one step that’s a huge success and earns her loads of praise and scritchies! George has remembered ‘walk on’, ‘back’ and ‘stand’ and I think he knows perfectly well what ‘left’ and ‘right’ mean but chooses not to do them! Abe, of course, remembers all his vocabulary perfectly and both he and Poppy are very calm and sensible about being moved around the place. Dancer’s learned ‘back’ and answers to it quite readily but still needs a touch with a hand on her chest as a reminder sometimes. I had to fetch the lunge whip and give George a little poke with the end this evening – he has his feed at the door end of the horse barn while Abe’s hangs on the gate at the far end, and tonight George had planted his large posterior in the doorway so Abe couldn’t get past! Normally a firm ‘George, over!’ is enough for him to swivel aside but tonight he just looked cross about it, so I decided not to poke him with my hand and went for the distance tool instead. As soon as I touched him lightly with the end on the side of his haunch and repeated ‘over!’ George pirouetted neatly aside, though, and Abe went through to get his dinner in peace.

Lucy is up to 6 eggs in her nest now. I spent some time in their run today with a pair of shears, butting the longer grass back so it’ll give them a nice fresh ‘bite’ at their preferred (short) length soon. The long grass went straight over the fence into the walkway for the horses – grass cut mechanically ferments rapidly and can’t be fed to horses, but cut with hand shears or a billhook it’s fine for them and they ate it so readily it didn’t have time to ferment anyway!

 

Lucy’s not quite broody yet but she refused to get off her nest last night – which she’s been allowed to build around the front of the house in my absence. She did get off it today and there were four eggs in it, but she and Hannibal have no intention of shifting back tothe shed, so I’ll have to think of a way to goose-proof a bit of their run properly for them – during the day I rely on having dogs and humans around to deter foxes, but at night they might well be bold enough to come calling, even when the nest’s almost under my bedroom window!

Lucy hiding behind a dock leaf in her chosen nesting spot!

I’m still making progress on catching up on the work at the croft – all water buckets and bottles were scrubbed today, the ferrets have been cleaned out and tomorrow I hope to clean out the quail, too. If Lucy’s going to insist on living completely outdoors on the front lawn, I might as well clean their shed out thoroughly, too!

 

This morning all the beasties were fed, walked, spoken with, watered and generally brought thoroughly up to date again. Wicket was told off severely for chasing Lucy Goose, but no damage was done except to Lucy’s dignity and she seems to have stopped laying now anyway, so fingers crossed Wicket remembers not to chase them again! Being a whippet, her memory on ‘don’t chase that!’ is decidedly deficient.

The horses came in this afternoon for their feed very smartly – they were grazing fairly close when I called each by name, and each head popped up eagerly in response to the appropriate name, which was excellent, then George led the head in at a fine spanking trot! I steered them all into the barns – George and Abe to my left into the horse barn to eat, while Poppy and Dancer went to the right to the stable shed – as it was coming on to rain, and once they’d all eaten and milled a little they settled to eating hay, so I went round with a hofpick,

Two of Poppy’s hooves, then all of Dancer’s, the other two of Poppy’s, all of Abe’s and one of George’s. I think George would have let me have the other three, but Abe came in and started irritating him by blowing under his tummy and I decided not to even ask.

My good friend Elen, who’s staying with me for a few more days after our break in Ardnamurchan, took some photos for me while the horses were in – these are views of the horses I don’t normally see!

Judging by the expression here (especially the quirk in the top lip!)  Dancer is thinking ‘She wants to do what with my foot? Why?’

‘That’s my foot, yes, why do you want it forward like that?’

Abe before having his mane brushed!

Poppy, also before grooming! At this point she had feed dribbled over both ears and into her mane, courtesy of Dancer.

At some point in any interaction with Dancer, she normally starts to groom her human back in a friendly way. This is normal – she’ll grow out of it in a few more years!

After that I started on manes, which were unkepmpt. Poppy let me do her mane and forelock, then I did half of Dancer’s, paused because George came and asked me to do his, then he pushed Abe out of a haynet and left so I finished Dancer’s mane off, started on her tail a little and then Abe intruded so I did his mane (I wondered how he managed to start developing mats like would-be dreadlocks, but after watching George pick him up by the crest to get him out of George’s bucket I know exactly how that happened!) and a little of his tail before George wanted me to finish his mane off.

This is the first time George has come to me and made it clear he would like not just my atention, but for me to groom him. He kept slanting little glances around at me as I worked, his ears flicking as he listened to me wittering (talking utter rubbish, undoubtedly, but talking quietly to horses helps them relax so I’ve always burbled on about nothing in particular to any horse I’m around) and his eyes were soft and relaxed, really looking at me rather than just scanning the area watchfully. It was a fantastic connection for us to make and I kept going until he’d had enough and quietly walked off – not abandoning me, just wandering quietly away because he’d had enough and it was okay for us to move apart without any stress. That, too, is quite new in him and indicates he accepts me as part of the herd and trusted.

Finally, I brushed Poppy’s tail out completely and she waited until I’d finished, then chased everyone briskly out of the shed and shepherded her herd out to the field again.

Poppy back out with her beautifully knot-free tail blowing out in the wind.

All in all, a fabulous and delightful couple of hours’ with the horses!

Rocket brought a couple of ticks home from holiday so she’s been de-ticked, bites washed and anoited with lavender oil, and she now hates me forever. She loathes the smell of lavender – but it’s such a good antiseptic and also puts her off licking the spot into a sore, so she’s now looking martyred all over the house, with occasional livid glances my way.

She’ll forgive me the moment the food dish hits the floor tonight.

Both dogs have thoroughly adopted Elen:

‘I like her, I want to keep her!’

‘Mine.’

And arrived to proof of the old saying, if you want a job done right, do it yourself!

The bunnies had no hay. The quail had no pellets. The ferrets’ water is about to demand voting rights. The horses’ buckets had feed left in the corners, the wheelbarrow needed emptying, the yard hasn’t been swept, one of the haynets was in the wrong place (tied directly to the fence, so if anyone got a hoof in it because it was also hung too low they’d have to break either the fence or their leg!) and the ferret cages are full of uneaten day-old chicks, festering!!

Tomorrow will be clean up and catch up day…

After the combined pine marten and deer raid last night, we got up this morning to find the various feeding stations clean as the proverbial whistles. We had already made enquiries by email to the local shop, Salen Village Stores, and had a swift response, so we knew we were only a few miles from top-up supplies for wildlife, but our planned ‘let’s go sometime today’ changed its priority sharply. First we experienced the unnerving sight of three bluetits lining up on the nearest bird table and glaring at us while taking turns making rushes at the window while we attempted to regain some level of mental competence over our first cups of tea of the day, but then a blackbird landed on the nearby swinging chair frame looking our way and a blackcap stood on the bird table looking pathetically between his feet.

That was enough! Before they called in larger reinforcements on us and the sky darkened with menacing crows, we decided we’d better get to the shop even before breakfast and get the birds fed!

We’ve stocked up on bird seed, peanuts, peanut butter and suet balls, the feeders are all stuffed to bulging and the result?

Not a bird in sight!!

 

 

(Slight exaggeration for effect – actually we have had a female chaffinch, two robins, a song thrush, a collared dove and a couple of bluetits visit briefly, inspect the offerings, nibble and disappear again. Hopefully they’re spreading the word rather than rejecting all that food…)

 

Isn’t he handsome? The deer is one of the local hinds who stopped by apparently just to knock down the suet ball feeder and steal the last suet ball. She also cleaned up some peanut butter we’d smeared over the lower ropes on the feeding station for her. The extra calories must be welcome this time of year, with calves due probably any week now.

We also found the Alphabet Trail in Salen yesterday, which is a beautiful little circular walk just south of the village.

 

Not quite as good as a beach in the dogs’ opinions and of course there’s no sea monsters, but still good enough to have a repeat visit later in our stay.

I’ll come back to the elusive little critters in a minute.

The dogs enjoyed yesterday’s beach, which was Sunna beach on the northern side of the peninsula, though there were a lot of other people and dogs, which makes letting them off the lead a little harder. As it was, Wicket accosted one pair having a peaceful picnic and jut missed out on the ham sandwiches, which was probably what she was after. Her ears mysteriously failed to work after that so I physically had to go after her and lead her back, the monkey!

Here they are in dramatic black-and-white (I’m not quite sure how I got the phone to do this – hope I can remember in the future sometime!)

Here’s one of the beach – it’s beautiful white sand with dark-coloured bladderwrack and some storm-tossed kelp between outcrops of nearly-black rock, so apart from missing out on the green fringe of marram grass the colour’s not so far from reality! Rocket had a good game of sea monsters with a long kelp stalk that still had some fronds attached – she adores chasing one if I swing it and will shake it furiously to ‘kill’ it when she catches it. Eventually they fall apart, but no beach trip is complete for Rocket unless she’s bravely vanquished a sea monster or two!

They then came back home and resumed occupancy on the couch as usual.

Whppets come by their nickname of ‘fastest couch potato in the West’ quite honestly!

In the evening the deer herd made a more dramatic appearance, first one hind leaping into view and posing before sprinting into the woods and then four more in swift succession, all clearly spooked by something. Later on, though, a very dark, shaggy hind came by at a more leisurely pace.

 

All of which brings us, at last, to the pine martens. They were a complete no-show for beef trimmings so yesterday we baited all over the place with peanut butter instead (junk food addicts!) and that’s what the deer is sniffing and stretching up towards in the video. We sat up and watched out for the martens until eleven last night and they totally failed to appear, so we went to bed. They are allegedly crepuscular and should be around at dawn and dusk – rather like my ferrets, who are related – so full dark was when we called it a night (sorry) and left the field.

We should have persisted. Apparently Elen came through briefly at half past midnight and two of the rascals were busy cleaning up the bait then.

Tonight I’ll sit up all night, if that’s what it takes!

The local deer herd came by last night and posed for us a little:

Apologies for the slightly wobbly camera handling but I didn’t dare stand up as I mgiht have stirred up the dogs and if they see deer, they want to chase deer! They were asleep on the sofa with their backs to the view, thankfully.

Alas, despite the best quality beef trimmings, the pine martens were a no show. Maybe they’re junk food addicts, maybe they’d filled up on mice before reaching us, maybe they have kits somewhere else and don’t want to leave them for long – who knows? Tonight we’ll try the peanut butter, since they don’t want best beef! The songbirds are clearing up the beef instead – mostly the thrushes.

When I took the dogs out for their breakfast run on the salt marsh by the little tidal island Innis nam Feorag, we found some prints in the soft ground to show who’d been around in the night:

The deer, of course!

The owner of these paws had long claws and was playing in the wet sandy mud amongst the seaweed. The angle of the pad marks and the round, broad foot lead me to think these are otter, even though I can’t see five toes or the web marks between toes, which I usually look for as proof of otters. I know there are six toes in the left print here but I think it’s both front feet, one on top of the other. All the same, foxes don’t normally dance around in circles in the seaweed and cats don’t have claws visible in their tracks like this, so I’m still leaning towards otter as the paws’ owner.

This is the area where I found them;

Ideal for otters, probably not so great a place in a fox’s opinion.

I had time to upload some more video from home onto youtube between watching deer last night, so here’s a soundscape from a patch of beechwood in the Forest of Deer, which is the area around Cairnorchies, recorded last Friday morning;

 

It feels very strange to be away from the croft but I’m now on the opposite side of the country! Lynn is looking after the horses and my mother’s looking after everyone else, while Wicket and Rocket have accompanied Elen and I to Ardnamurchan, where we’re staying in a cottage near Glenborrowdale for a short break.

I don’t know how much the other critters appreciate it but the dogs love their hols. They get to run about on beaches every day, where I can safely let them run free together without worrying about them chasing livestock or wild mammals, for a start! Here they are just now, totally zonked out after their first day’s adventuring.

We drove over yesterday and gave the whippets their first ferry ride, the very smooth, quick Corran Ferry taking us from just south of Fort William to the Ardnamurchan peninsula. We stopped to pick up provisions in Salen at the Jetty Shop there, who do a fabulous hot chocolate to go, and are in the very comfortable Loch View cottage, overlooking a tiny private jetty and beach, with deer and pinemartens in the garden at night and right next to a little tidal island called, very evocatively, Island of Squirrels – Innis nam Feorag, in Gaelic.

This is where today’s adventure happened:

Camus nan Geall, the Bay of Strangers, has apparently been a place of human settlement from the mesolithic, just after the ice sheets withdrew here, right through  the Norse settlement into the area and their absorption into the local population (as happened everywhere down the west and north sides of Scotland) until the Clearances, when the clachan, or small village, was replaced with a sheep farm. We walked down from the car park where this photo was taken to the lovely fertile green field, explored a Neolithic chambered tomb and then let the dogs play on the beach for an hour before walking back up. Here’s the view across the field as we left:

The tomb is just beyond the trees (sycamores) in the middle of the photo.

After that, the dogs were left sleeping happily in the cottage while the humans spent a couple of hours in the nearby Natural History Centre, just the other side of Glenborrowdale village. It’s not a bad place and serves decent coffee and excellent ice cream, though there’s less Natural History than gift shop, perhaps! I brought back a small booklet on the geological history of the area, which should keep me happily occupied at odd moments for a day or two.

Tonight we hope the pine martens will accept our offering and come up on the bird table just by the lounge window – we’ve saved the trimmings from our beef joint to put out, rather than using the suggested bait of jam or peanut butter, neither of which are good for any mustelid – though all the weasel family adore peanuts, for some reason.