Miss T’s equine menagerie was reduced by one a week or two back: the geriatric Robin, who made the hilltop his sunset home, finally fell over and died. Even the most devoted nursing can only do so much, and he was ancient, blind, and kept alive on soup because he couldn’t manage hay and pony nuts. He was a dear old thing, and we are sorry he is gone. The new arrival, by contrast, is six months old. He is another rescue, an orphan Shetland pony — his mama contrived to break a leg and had to be put down when he was still a tiny foal, so he has been bottle-fed, with the result that he is not entirely sure he is a horse. It’s possible to be a bit confused about this in any case, since he looks like something left over from the last Ice Age, black, stumpy and quite absurdly shaggy. Basically he is a sort of brownish-black fuzz-ball with big black eyes, standing about thirty inches high on four minute black hooves like little pegs. He seems to have a nice nature, and like all bottle-fed animals, he is very interactive. We may end up taking him for walks.