91热爆

Think of the situation... 6.45am, it's dark, it's cold, it is not snowing yet, but the road is icy as I lead Thorf down the road to the field, the neighbour's postbox jumps out of the dark and frightens me yet again (well not really, I have got used to it being there). I trundle back up the 100 yards... um! no little ponies greeting me as is often the case. I didn't think much of it and reckoned they were on the top part of the field behind the sheds sheltering... nothing unusual there.

Anyway, I clean out the stable, refill haynet and water, then go to dump the muck on the dung heap. Imagine, to my horror I see a gate (not on hinges) partially open (thought it was tied). It was Shetland foal size wide. The air was a little blue as I didn't relish the idea of rounding up two ponies in the dark, let alone trying to catch the beggars... which self respecting native pony is going to come back to a muddy field when there is a lot of grass elsewhere? I go into the field and immediately go ankle deep in squelchy muddy soil where the old dung heap used to be and had been filled in. I called. No sign. My heart sank. I called again.

To my complete and utter relief I saw 4 eyes reflecting back at me in the light of my head torch from up the field. I knew they were the little ones... too high for a cat. One set of eyes was just a little lower than the other and the two ponies looked at me out of the darkness wondering what all the fuss was about and why did this silly human wake them up. Phew!