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This afternoon, we took a drive through the forest. Being the tourist season, there was much traffic, including cyclists, on the road.
On the way into Brockenhurst, a pony trotted elegantly ahead of a car, until it obligingly stepped onto the grass verge and allowed the vehicles to continue on their way.
A string of ponies by Whitemoor Pond attracted both me and a family of visitors.
First the children attempted to involve the creatures in a game of football;
then a young woman tempted them with slices of bread.
I did my best to indicate that this wasn’t a good idea, but we didn’t speak the same language, however,
the equine teeth got the message across.
It was then that I heard Jackie crying ‘behind you!’ I turned around with some trepidation. This was no pantomime.
Behind me, cooling off and slaking their thirst, were two Highland cattle.
I wondered how they could see through their fringes.
They commandeered the pond;
another loner joined in;
and a fourth, with number five on its way across the road, gave the ponies second thoughts about reclaiming the pond.
Having battled along a pitted track of Ringwood Road, we stopped for a drink at High Corner Inn,
where ponies in the car park
were being fed carrots by a chef who told me that the animals congregate under the kitchen extractor vent because it keeps the flies off them.
Near Frogham, a pregnant female donkey with two foals escorted by a large pony temporarily blocked the road.
At least one of the infants seemed confused about its parentage.
Back home, my choice of the goodies superfluous to yesterday’s feast was Coronation chicken and rice, with which I drank McGuigan Bin 578 merlot 2015. Jackie drank Hoegaarden with various other items.