This is Wee One, aka Pepper, last night while I made another sheeple after supper.

I try to make at least three sheeple a day as it is Wool Week and this is my last gasp at making any money this year.  The cruise ship season has just about dried up too.

This morning I came downstairs to find Monster blocking my egress.

Luckily, I managed a clear round as I jumped over him.  I don’t trust that cat not to roll over and try and get me.  He has form.

And then later on. Ok, Monster had moved, but not very far.  This is the same rug.  The underfloor heating is obviously very effective in this spot says the person who then went and turned it off!

Pepper heard me talking to Monster about his always being in the way.

And, like me, this is the face of someone who hates needless affection. I am not a hugger and neither is Monster.  I love his expression.  Ugh, get off!

This afternoon, and I was back in my shed making more sheeple.

These are from the past two days.  One more to make tonight.

The boys are fed in the afternoon and then again after my supper.

Obviously they have to share one haynet box while another lies deserted not very far away.

The girls get another (one of many) soaked feed block.  Vitamin is very keen on this.  She likes to wear her food.

So that’s my day. Add some ducks to feed endlessly and dogs to walk and that’s what I do.

Fivla and Vitamin are struggling to eat the soaked hay. I think it is because it is a from a big round bale – the stalks are longer so not easy.

Well, this is my theory.

So first thing, I dashed off to Lerwick in my horsevan to buy some square bales, which is much more varied in type.

And, yes, I went around the Feed Merchant’s shed inspecting all his hay to find one that might suit Vitamin and Fivla.  I even sniffed it because I find that’s a useful method of analysis.  Feeling hopeful, I parted with a kidney and bought four bales of one type and two of another.

Then a quick nip to my sheeple field at Jamieson’s shop on the street to restock as it is Wool Week and the field was looking a bit bleak.

A few more messages to do and then home, sweet home and a perfect cup of tea.

The afternoon was spent making two more sheeple while the dogs, who were very pleased I was home, slept….

(with their eyes open, if you’re Pepper!)

So that was my day. It’s not over yet.

Supper, more hay distributed to the needy, plus two more buckets (F&V) and put to bed and then I make another sheeple.  I might add that the old ladies were absolutely fine about me driving the van in and out of their “bedroom”.  They didn’t bat an eye.

But they hate the new hay.  FFS! I give up.

It’s a sad day, here at Thordale.

Black Ducky has died under the container while sitting on her second clutch of eggs this year.  I told her to come into the hen-house or anywhere else apart from under the container but, no, she had to sit there and I expect something got her. It’s that time of year.  I even had traps close by – they’ve caught nothing.  I could not save her despite my best efforts.

At least Black Ducky had one duckling this year – Cuthbert – who she adored and was the best mother to.

Dear Cuthbert – he’s more than a little bit gormless  and now he is old enough, he hangs around with a different crowd.  He even has a girlfriend – an older lady – Penthesilea’s mother.

We will all miss Black Ducky.  She was her own duck and the only black one.  The other ducks were never very nice to her which is probably why she decided to nest this time under the container rather than in the duck-shed, where there is some new-duck politics going on.  I did try to lure her into another shed but she would have none of it.  The circle of life – it’s harsh.

You may be aware that I’ve been sucking my teeth about Vitamin.

Well, today she came inside, along with Fivla for company.  Vitamin was just not coping very well on the hard-standing.  In fact, she could barely walk and it was horrid to watch. I am pretty sure she has laminitis and I feel awful. I have let her down.

I am not popular with the old ladies but I’m sorry, that’s the way it has to be, for the time being.

They get a measured amount of hay-replacer and even some soaked hay, which they seem to be managing, albeit Fivla can’t share with Vitamin and they pull awful faces at each other.

Regular buckets are the way to go along with a myriad of vitamins, minerals, plants and TurmerAid.

Fivla can’t see the point of staying inside.  She looks out – I keep the big doors open if possible – and whinnies at the Minions.

Luckily, Fivla’s a wee bit on the fat side and so can’t get through the bars.  I expect you can see the van and a horsebox parked in with them.  At the moment, I haven’t sectioned the vehicles off with hurdles as I trust Fivvie and Vitamoo not to make dents.  Yes, I trust them. I may regret that.  If they Minions were in there, I would put up a fence with an armed guard.  I just feel so sorry for Vitamin.  I don’t want this to be the end for her.

Here is a Mountain of Sheep, ok, hill. Picky, picky.

Dear little Maggie. She arrived at our gate a few years back and has never left home, ever. It might be the breakfasts – just sayin’ – and I think it is.

And Edna, who again came off the hill in a gaunt state along with her daughter, Madge, now has double chins and no teeth (i think I can relate).  How has that happened?

She is set and happy in her routine. I am her slave.  We both know this.

And then there is the bulk that is Lambie.  Basically a lozenge in shape, sheep …..

…. and possibly in mind!  This morning he was closed for business.  We had no conversation.

Harrel-The-Barrel spent his morning optimistically following me and my restaurant around.

And the noble profile that is ‘Bert.  What a guy,

Lambie obstinately remained immune to my presence or my camera.  Snooze on Lambie.

And *** cough *** The World’s Fattest Sheep – Madge.  It is not my fault she is so fat – she had her tags cut out and was chucked onto the hill to die.  Like a refugee, she only has to look at an éclair to put on weight. I understand this and feel her pain.

And lastly, but not leastly, we have ‘Ster who is just a misunderstood sweetie with huge separation anxiety.  Guys? Guys? he shouts as they all wonder off and say nothing.

So this is my Mountain of Sheep, which is really a small hill.