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.

When I came home from the dog-walk this morning, I saw these two in the distance – like two rather strange Shetland plants.

It was rough night, last night and I know everyone had an exhausting time with the  high winds and torrential downpours – and, yes, I lay awake all night worrying.

So I understood if a lie-down was needed afterwards.

Kolka was standing guard at a distance. I think she was leaving the two old men to the Shetland tigers. Her theory was that she would protect herself first and the tigers would be too full to bother with her.  Fair enough. She has a point. I can’t blame her.

I am trying not to think “whale” when I see this bottom.

Obviously I had brought a pocketful of treats so I distributed fairly – two for Kolka, two for Iacs and three of Haakon, because I love him most.

And any leftover crumbs for Bibble, obviously, because that’s just the way it is.

Indeed.

Dear old folk.

So we are all fine….. (note, the paddy paw of pointing with slight claw involvement).

But, and there’s always a butt, Little Herself, aka Pepper, is limping on her front right, I think, though it does change.  I haven’t taken her to the vet yet as I want to see if it improves over the week.  Seeing how she flings herself about, jumping out of cars, down the stairs four at a time, the limp is not holding her up. I have looked and there is nothing obvious and if I give her a painkiller, it will mask the problem making her jump about more.

Poor Pepper, now her official title apparently, thinks we don’t care.

And apparently food will make everything better.

Ted is, of course, an angel, just a rather grubby one.

And Lambie is fine, thank you for asking.  He is in his winter-I-won’t-do-what-you-want phase.  I am ignoring it and refuse to indulge it.

He wants treats. He is fat. Go figure.

**** sigh ***