Well I must say the rugby was quite satisfactory this weekend. The brave Scarlets led from the front on Saturday and the Azzurri gave that other side plenty of food for thought on Sunday. After the match, she came whizzing down to the yard on the quad to do evening stables. I am in pony prison at the moment, because I have had a bad spell with my feet. Maciej says the x-rays look good, but ouch! my toes have been tender so I am in a small stable on rubber mats and a lovely straw bed, until the inflammation goes away. Here’s the thing though: for the first time since William Bach came to join me, he has to sleep in his own stable. It is right next door to mine and we can touch noses through the window space, but he doesn’t like it much – he squeaks a lot, even though I tell him it’s OK. During the day, he is allowed the freedom of the yard and at 3pm yesterday, he decided to go exploring. By the time she came down, he had completely disappeared. She called and rattled the feed buckets, but there was no William.

There are some ponies next door, so she bravely set off in the twilight to see whether Willliam Bach had crossed the stream to join them. As she scrambled past the big badger sett, she heard a rustle just ahead of her. It was an otter! This, apparently, was very exciting.

The trudge up the neighbour’s field proved fruitless, The ten (rather tasty) Shetland mares had not seen William Bach. She came back to the yard, calling, whereupon William the cat showed up, wondering why she wanted his attention.

She focused on the woodland next. It is rather steep but she tried to follow William Bach’s tracks through the leaf mold.

Up into the woodland

As she got further away, I could hear her calling William Bach. She also shouted some words I haven’t heard before. It was when she reappeared in front of the stables on her back side –  I expect she wasn’t very keen on making that climb all over again. I ate my hay and kept quiet.

She struck off up the stream past the Moyers Dam. It’s in a state of disrepair now, because the engineers have not attended for quite a while. The stream is in full spate and there were more words as she stepped in mud so deep you could have lost a small pony in it.

Past the Moyers Dam

I shouted back to her, by way of moral support, and then we heard WIlliam Bach! He did what passes as his whinny – sounds a bit like a large pig – and it definitely came from the woodland above the stables. Joanna heard it too and we all thought we had found him.

Off she clambered again, muttering in a tired way, about other people’s animals, young ponies, the Napoleon syndrome (what?) and winter. Because winter was really the problem here; by now it was dark. She checked the quarry and behind the hen house, but couldn’t see him anywhere. She came back down, this time on her feet, and said ‘It’s no good TIm. I can’t see in there. Keep talking to him and I’ll be down at first light.’ Joanna checked before she went to bed, to see if he was home (brought me an apple, she’s good like that), but there was still no William Bach.

I did as I was told and first light came. Joanna went off to work and she arrived. She quickly did the feeds and rattled the buckets. A definite piggy squeak was heard – William Bach was hungry! She set off again, with renewed energy, and found him! He was, as you can see, well camouflaged in the wood and really not very far from where she had been last night.

Stuck!

He had burrowed his way through some bushes and could get no further. He was very glad to see her and did a lot of nervous chattering. She had to crawl through the trees and bushes, the way he had gone, and ask him to turn around (it would appear that he hadn’t thought of that). Once he was facing the other way, the escape route was easy. There was now only one thought on his mind – breakfast!

I do hope, for sake of my nerves and her immortal soul, that he has learned his lesson!