Mindy Hammond

Every week in S Magazine Our columnist feels wistful over new living arrangements for an elderly pony and her companion

How the view has changed at the stables… spirit has left us, enjoying his new life “on the range”; cutting cattle and living in wide open spaces in a herd. he is living the life of his ancestors, and thoroughly enjoying every minute. It was so difficult to let him go, yet so rewarding to know he’s in his happy place.

scout has also moved on – no more lonely paddock for him. Instead, he is at a busy yard, surrounded by an enthusiastic gang of children. We initially thought he would make a lead-rein pony, but he has surpassed everyone’s expectations. not only is he independently ridden, he has become an adored pet and goes on walks alongside the family dogs. Bless him.

Meanwhile, back at home, we were still fretting over Megan and Max. even with the very best of care, the searingly hot weather in July had taken its toll on their elderly bodies. Yet more worrying, Megan could no longer eat even the most heavily soaked hay. We knew her teeth weren’t great, so every evening she was fed huge bowls of what we called “pony gruel”; good and sloppy, it was like feeding a Victorian granny. she would slurp away with gusto, and at the end of her feast her nose would be dripping with tasty green gunge. Yum.

But a couple of weeks ago, Meg began turning up her nose at her gruel, too. she wanted to come in with the others every night, purely to doze in the corner of her stable. If we were lucky, she might manage a few mouthfuls by morning, but her hay would be in a pile on the floor, balled up where she had spat it out because she couldn’t chew it.

at least Max could still eat his hay, but no matter how much we gave him, or how many extra meals we fed him, he seemed to be losing weight. Willow and I scoured the internet for advice, and spoke to the vet. he asked when Max had last been wormed (like most animals, ponies need to be wormed regularly). so his poo was sent off for diagnosis. a “worm count” was done – and the result? a big fat zero. Which was a bit of a surprise considering I usually end up covered in wormer paste when I attempt to give him his dose. We would just have to keep doing what we were doing, and hope for the best.

Meg was a different matter, and our vet did have advice. he had a very old pony with similar problems. “she needs to be out at grass, 24/7. If she’ll live out, it’ll be the best thing for her,” he said.

I remembered a farmer friend telling me about his wife’s little pony, who hated a stable and destroyed or wriggled out of any rug, so lived naked in her paddock. For more than 40 years, she met his wife at the gate for breakfast, until the morning she wasn’t there. they bent to her will and she lived a happy and long life on her terms.

Inspired, the girls and I made a big paddock for Megan and Musca with a huge field shelter tucked in the corner. as we set them free, even Meg had a little canter, excited to be in a big open space, with plenty of grass.

the pair lived out years ago, and we knew the best way to acclimatise them would be to start the new regime in mild weather. as autumn comes we can begin dressing them in cosy rugs, and move them to ungrazed pasture. We can’t feed Meg indoors any more so we hope the grass keeps growing, the winter is mild and she keeps eating. of course, I’d move her into the kitchen if it was an option. and it doesn’t sit well with me seeing her and Musca’s stables empty. But just as we had to do the right thing for spirit and scout, we have to do the right thing for Megan and her devoted friend, even if it pulls at our heartstrings.

Victorian grannies may have survived on gruel, kept warm with woollen shawls and improved their hearing with the aid of an ear trumpet, but Meg has already given up on the gruel, would never keep a shawl on her shoulders, and is way beyond the help of an ear trumpet.

But she’s still the dearest of old ponies, who has captured the heart of many people and caused a little pony half her age to be completely lovestruck. I hope the grand dame and her little casanova enjoy their love nest for a very long time.