The last Thursday in the month is when our local horse auction is held, at Llanybydder in Carmarthenshire. I was meeting up with a friend from a Horse Charity (Equine Market Watch)
which I also try and support along with Lluest Horse & Pony Trust. As I had used rugs which I no longer had any use for now the horses are all gone, and also things like bandages and brushing boots which are no longer needed, I have shared my "leftovers" between the two charities.
Anyway, after meeting up with Siobhan from EMW Wales, my husband and I looked around the sale, and the car boot sale in the hall - where a man in the entrance was surruptitiously trying to sell a tiny Jack Russell pup which was not old enough to be weaned. This is NOT allowed on the mart premises (hence him lurking in the entrance to the hall), but unfortunately although there was a big police presence - about 10 of our men in blue - the RSPCA inspector appeared to be invisible so I couldn't report this. I was fortunate enough to find a book about Arab breeding from the 1970s, so I added that to my collection. The photographs in it were wonderful and a lot of them are horses which are related to my darling lad - I still think of him as "my" lad, though he's settled in at his new home now.
Apparently recent horse sales at Llanybydder and Brecon have been swamped with people offloading horses and ponies of all sorts because of the economic climate - though the bulk has been mongrel youngsters with little or no future outside of a tin of cat food. Numbers were down today - average figures for the last few autumn sales I have attended in recent years. I took a few photographs, but was glad to see that hay was being provided in most pens and stalls, but I don't think I noticed one bucket of water . . .
Spots always sell. I felt sorry for the wormy chestnut at the back.
These looked pretty enough to attract a few bids.
A couple of pocket Shetlands . . .
I think this little chap had cornered the market in "cute and hairy"!
I had to walk away before I took even more of a fancy to the little black on the left.
One of the coloured foals on offer - it should grow out of being so croup-high, but I doubt it will ever have a longer neck . . .There were some horses and ponies in the riding section which were being "talked up" with photographs and testimonials about their abilities - I hope they went to good homes, but if they are "right" it shows how desperate people are to sell them. Sometimes they're very much NOT right though - bigger horses with navicular or "invisible" ailments, or have problems under saddle - described as "has been known to buck" for which you may readily interpret as "would suit rodeo", or "takes a keen hold out hunting" : "Unstoppable", or "has been seen to crib" as it demolishes anything it can get its teeth into . . .
The coloureds - "gypsy cobs" - usually sell (though their owners have inflated ideas of their value; come Autumn no one will touch a Thoroughbred with a barge pole because they have to be FED over the winter; Section Ds (Welsh Cobs) usually find good homes with farmers, especially if they are mares which will be bred from or have good blood lines. In the summer months there used to be (haven't been this summer) some mares with quite tidy bloodlines being offered - this is the traditional "old farmer" way of selling homebred stock, though if it's REALLY good, it will go off to the Cob Sales at Builth.
If you're thinking, don't you get upset? Or "how can you walk away?" The answer is that not every pony goes to a necessarily bad home. I'm not there to see which - if any - go to the Meat Man. It's a case of not allowing your imagination or your compassion to run riot. Most of the ones there today were in pretty fair condition. The late-winter sales are another matter.
Anyway, we had other fish to fry, and had to head down to Ferryside, to what had been a series of old milking sheds (blooomin' cold and miserable and windsweapt it was today too). I bought a fixed cheek twisted pelham for my bit collection and a gorgeous Victorian (or older?) glass rolling pin with wonderful flaws in the glass, and my husband, who had gone for pitch pine and old brass handles for his current renovation projects, also struck lucky.
Cast iron fire surround anyone?
It was an Alladin's cave . . . largely of rubbish! Unless you wanted pitch pine pews of course!
There's a nice butterchurn at the back (just like one I have).
Now I have drawn the curtains against a wet, black and miserable night and shall settle down with my Arab book and my sewing tonight.
