Hosses 1 - Human 0

Feeding four ponies is not as easy as it sounds, especially when a non-horsy person gets lumbered with the task.

Three of them are to get a handful of pony food, while the fourth, the geriatric, gets more to keep his condition up. In order to do this, you set the first three buckets down, far enough apart that one pony can't dominate and keep all three buckets to herself. She would if she could; ponies are quite mild-mannered creatures, but there's a definite hierachy. Then you take the fourth bucket and the old chap follows at a fair old clip to the stable, where he can be shut in safe to consume his dinner. The other three would drive him off his food, as he is their minion, the lowest ranked in the group.

Poor M, he had this task. The three buckets went down amongst the milling equines, and it was looking simple. Off he went to the stable, followed by the old boy. But the crafty fellow had seen that M had left the gate open, and instead of following him into the stable, did a neat sidestep and pegged it into the garden. In hot pursuit, M failed to rectify his schoolboy error of leaving the gate open, and one of the others joined the garden-time gambolling.

At this point, M did a lot of catch-up gate-closing: field and garden. He tried to tempt the troublesome two back into the field with much bucket-shaking, coaxing and showing of food. But the pair were unimpressed and uncooperative.

Chasing them about waving his arms, only got them excited and skidding about the bushes. When one of them raised its bottom to him threateningly, he decided enough was enough. He returned defeated and relayed his tale of woe.

I laughed six miles there, and while I caught them and while I sorted out their feed. I laughed six miles back again with added vigour.

Part of the problem was that he'd been trying to feed them fishfood.