A few weeks ago, or was it months, times flies….. Anyway we had an invasion of cows (well 2 bullocks) in the garden. I don’t know, maybe they put the word out to other four leggers, sort of “Hey guys there’s some untouched greenery in there and boy will she get all upset and uppity, well worth a dander over and a good laugh”.
Obviously the word spread.
Within 2 weeks of the bullock incident we found ourselves hosting a bit of a sheep party. It was like a woolly sea flowing into the garden.
One of these times when you sit transfixed at the kitchen window wondering aloud, where did they come from? How bloody many of them are there? They just kept on coming.
Time to take action.
Like the bullock business there was really only one option – get in there, fast! We did, with Idgy running round like a manic sheep dog trying to get gates open and keep them from going in circles, and me huffing and puffing trying to round them up and point them in the right direction so that all her gate opening and fielding would have some sort of effect.
Boy when they started to move, those ladies fairly went en mass. We then had a problem of having them in the yard and nothing to do. Girl with horses next door (yes remember the eyesore stable she built this year) and old farmer (not his sheep of course) turn up and we all manage to get the sheep (there are over 50 of the woolly blighters into John’s field up the lane. They were apparently his sheep. We are aided in this herding by Minou who stands firm in the middle of the lane and does the only possible thing in the circumstances – she fluffs up her tail. 50 sheep approach at high speed and she fluffs up her tail. Needless to say they didn’t notice and thrundered right on. Sense prevailed and our heroine leapt for the bushes at the last moment. Tail still firmly in fluff position.
Old farmer calmly tells me that he been going to just shut them in my place as they’d be safe there. Hello, and my garden? You sometimes wonder out here whether anyone who lives with the word farm in their vocabulary just doesn’t think anything else exists. Garden, nice property? Eh what’s that, animals are antitled to roam.
Hmmmmmmm life in the country goes on….