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With the fencing completed in the first section of pasture in our meadow bottom and the sheep shelter built, it was time to move the sheep down the hill. The sheep were gonna love the fresh spring grass! Clover would be thrilled to have her goat yard back!
“See ya, wouldn’t want to be ya,” said Clover to the sheep.
Miss Jacob looks ready to dot, doesn’t she? I love how sheep dot a meadow, never standing too close to one another as if by some unspoken agreement to decorate the landscape.
Dot, dot, dot! In my own meadow!
But for all this dotting to happen, we had to get them down the hill, and we weren’t going to have any of that nonsense we had on shearing day where we chased them around and around the goat yard. We are some freakin’ professional farmers here. So the first thing we did was get them all in the goat house.
The first thing they did as soon as they realized something was up was knock us down on their way back out of the goat house.
And we chased them around and around the yard just like on shearing day.
We finally got one under control and on a makeshift leash.
Some friends had the misfortune to stop by right around then and helped us as we spent the next couple of hours pushing….
….chasing….
….waiting….
….even begging. This one kept sitting down and wouldn’t even stand up for food.
Every time we went back for another one in the goat yard, we had to fight off Clover, Nutmeg, and Annabelle, all of whom would have cheerfully followed us out the driveway, up the road and down it again, and climbed on our backs and jumped in our pockets.
Annabelle’s not a dog anymore, by the way.
Now she’s a goat, living with Clover and Nutmeg.
She’s not happy about it. I think she misses the Cotswolds, who were just warming up to her recently. I haven’t convinced myself to send Annabelle down to the meadow with them yet.
I think she’s actually still a dog at heart and all this sheep and goat stuff is giving her an identity crisis. I hope I can afford all the therapy she’s going to need when she grows up.
Meanwhile back in the meadow, we finally got the last sheep in the pasture and shut the gate. Let the dotting begin!
I said, let the dotting begin!
That’s not dotting! That’s clumping! STOP CLUMPING!
Three days later: They’re still clumping. They’re non-dotters. Ohmygod, that’s why they were free. I HAVE CLUMPING SHEEP!!!!
