The girls are home.  Daisy and I went to fetch Hetja and Brá during a brief weather window yesterday.  They have come back as the farrier is visiting this week and the field they live in (not one of mine – they are total squatters) is being re-fenced.

I can see them from my house (just, in the far distance) and I must admit I get a warm fuzzy feeling (probably from the amount of money in petrol I am saving from not having to drive over every day!)

The plan is that they will stay for a few weeks.

Here are some photos of BeAnne that I took t’other day. Ever the rock chick!

She likes to sit amongst OH’s guitars, or “kindling” as I like to call them, in the morning (part of her routine),

Lambie is on fine form.  He, along with ‘Bert and ‘Ster, go out on nice mornings onto the hill and then realise that absolutely nobody (sheep) wants to talk to them so they come home pretending this is absolutely fine. They do stick out somewhat.

I shovel biscuits in while telling them just how much their Muzzah loves them, and who needs hill sheep anyway.

They don’t need to visit the poor.

They wait for me.

All of them.

There is no escape.

They are always there.

Sometimes appearing out of nowhere.

Watching…..

Always watching.

With their spikey hair…..

And little faces.

So I fed them all a carrot, Fivla had her TurmerAid and sent them on their way!

Muchos giggling.

And shoving and pushing. Like school kids in the school corridor when the teachers aren’t watching.

And with the wind in their tails, they galloped off and left me.

But I know they are always watching….waiting.

Daisy and I “did feet” the other day – Albie and Vitamin were on that day’s list.  The others all hung around and watched, unhelpfully twanging the fence (thank you Newt), which infuriates me.

Daisy and I made a tidy job of the hooves and, after carrot distribution, I sent the herd away to get them away from my poor fence.  Loitering only causes mud and more mud.  They don’t need to stand in the same spot all day.

Waffle stopped, turn back and stared at me in disbelief – that I would actually want him to leave my side.

The wind was blowing hard now and I insisted they left.  In a silly-bill mood, they bounced off like little Shetland pony Tiggers!

And then there was Tiddles. You can see him thinking about this.

I called his name and he turned back to look at me as if to say, why wouldn’t you want a Tiddles with you at all times?

Sorry, Tiddles, no.  Run wild, run free – or in other words “go away and leave my poor fences alone!”

Après Minions, I go and check that my two (older) ladies, Hetja and Brá, are happy and healthy.  They live about 5 miles away.

Their field is enormous and Brá is, as ever, about as unhelpful as she can be.

Hetja is always on stand-by waiting for carrots.

But Brá needs her fair share too so I climbed up the hill (which was like a cliff-face and I am not good with heights) for her.

The old bat wouldn’t come to me when I asked her to.

Oh no, because I am only trying to feed her daily carrot.

Being the nice person that I am.

And therefore being totally ignored, but always being watched….

So I clambered up the steep hill, almost on my hands and knees….

And delivered the carrot.

Which she kindly ate.  Oh, well done.

And the second one because Hetja had two.

And then, knowing the ladies both absolutely fine, I scrambled down hill and drove home.

(trying very hard not to think about just how ungrateful Brá is (or how fat!)

This time of year especially, the Boyzens have a-hankering to go and mingle in the hill.  The rams are out and I think my lot want to hang out with the men.  So, at any opportunity, they escape and probably go to the Pub.

Luckily the Girlzens are very happy to stay at home, never leave and eat their hay-nets because they know there is no breakfast or snack biccies in the hill.  There is NOTHING! Nobody cares about you in the hill.

When I came home, after checking everyone outwith my croft, I found the three Boyzsens waiting for my return so they could come back home.  They looked a bit sheepish (sorry not)!

I called – they came running.

This is Lambie muttering to himself.

‘Ster had a good jump on him.  Very like a Victorian hunting print!

While ‘Bert diligently did the bare minimum to get over the ditch – I have horses not dissimilar.

Meanwhile, Lambie gave it his all – his little stripey leggies were a blur.  Such a star.  Today the ditch, tomorrow Horse (Sheep) of the Year Show!

I can hear it now – “and that’s a clear round for Lambie; what a little woolly jumper!” (see what I did there, geddit?)

I’ll get my coat.