Five years ago, I kept my two highland ponies at a nearby livery stables. It’s a lovely place, proper old stone stable block, well managed post and rail fields and a wonderful owner who ensures the place is always immaculate. I, and my ponies, were very happy there.
Highland pony Maisy at Barrow Stables
Because highland ponies are basically tough as old boots (their natural habitat is the Scottish highlands) I didn’t need a stable. They lived happily in a two acre paddock all of their own. This meant the cost of livery was relatively low.
Two doors down from our house was a small stable block housing a horse and pony, owned by a family from Main street. Every morning and evening, these equines would be marched past our front windows to their field around the corner.
Not surprisingly, Mr and Mrs W eventually decided they would prefer a home, stables and field all in one place. As I’d expressed an interest at some time, Mr W kindly let me know they were selling up. We did the sums, and a loan for the field would cost less than the livery. It was a no brainer.
So began the longest purchase process of a small piece of land ever. Because Mr W’s family had owned the land since 1935, it had never been registered. Registering a piece of land is, it seems, an extremely lengthy process.
Monty and Maisy in the snow
We built a field shelter and feed room, and moved the highlands in in December. I bought Phil a bottle of Trussardo My Land aftershave for Christmas.
For two years I happily rode my highland ponies around the beautiful bridleways and lanes, with a
pause in Spring 2015 when I broke my spleen in a silly fall (remember, tighten girth before riding, especially if you’re going to canter). This led to a bit of a downward spiral with health, and gradual but rather dramatic weight gain.
Liz riding Maisy in Rutland
By the beginning of 2018 I had more or less become dysfunctional, with days spent in bed and zero energy. My last ride was November 2017.
After long discussion and navel gazing, I decided to give up the highlands. I agreed with my mare’s breeder to exchange them for her three rescue miniature shetlands. You can read the story in A Tale of Two Highlands (and three miniature shetlands). Ted, Anne and Teeny Weeny became our mowers and very sweet pets.
Miniature shetlands with Liz, Phil and relative
In spring 2018, following a tranche of blood tests , it was discovered I have hypothyroidism.
Levothyroxin has since given me back my energy, and we started to make plans for what we could do with a field that was now recovering fast from the devastation wrought by two half tonne tanks of horseflesh. Miniature shetlands, we soon discovered, have miniature appetites, miniature poos and miniature hooves.
And so the story of my wildlife conservation journey begins…
