The farmers round here are not big on fencing (keen bloggers may remember the horror of the cows getting into my garden last year etc) and sheep tend to wander willy nilly from field to field all over the place. They leave their tell-tale signs on the broken fencing like motorway signs to the next flock passing through.
To me some of this trailing wool looks like that slightly creepy moss that hangs from trees in the deep south of America.
Yet other fences just look like fresh white sheets hanging out to dry.
Amazing the things that catch your interest when you pound round the lanes despirately trying to think of anything bar the run itself.