And this is how Edna and Madge arrived.

January 2020

Every day, Floss and I drive over to Sandness.  Recently we have been seeing a lone sheep talking to folk. So two days ago, on our way home, I stopped the car, and asked if anyone owned the sheep.

The older sheep was very tame.  She came straight up.  She was very obviously someone’s caddy (bottle fed).  When she put her front feet on my shoulders, stared into my eyes and said “help me”, I knew I had to do something…..

Her friend was shyer, so we put more food on the ground for both of them.  They were both very thin.

Yesterday, we fed the ewes again and I asked a few more questions. No one owned them. The first one had turned up in December and then a few weeks later the other one appeared.  Neither had tags though holes where tags had been – they had been ripped out and the sheep dumped.

I phoned around including our Grazings Clerk and told him I wanted to offer them a home.  He agreed this would be best.

So today we took the van and stopped off where the sheep were.

Floss and I were nervous about whether they would load but no, they both walked straight in, no fuss, no discussion!

A quick drive home and we welcomed them to Thordale.

They girls are very good about following so, as there was about to be torrential rain, I took them into the stable and put down more feed plus some hay.

After my lunch, I went back to the stable, sat down on a horse-rug and waited.

While the older ewe is very tame – like a kind gentle big dog – the younger one is apprehensive.

This old ewe is a sweetie.  She is lame on her front left (holds it up while standing) and limps. I think it is arthritis so I offered her the TurmerAid and she wolfed down a good quantity. That should help.

She also quickly plonked herself down.

Friend sheep (who I think is her daughter) kept her distance.  She is coughing so tomorrow I will drench them both.

The vet is coming on Monday to check them over and we will discuss how best to deal with any potential pregnancies.

They are not thrilled with hay and I want them to be eating all the time, so once the rain had done its worst, I let them out to spend tonight outside if they want.

I am glad they are home now.

As for the Boyzens?  Well, after breakfast, they went “down the pub” and when they come home tomorrow morning, we will make the introductions.  Well, that’s the plan.

I just couldn’t keep driving past. They need to be loved.

‘Ster is not well.  He keeps himself to himself and is currently on a ten day course of antibiotics (intra-muscular which doesn’t bring out the best in any of us) for what we think is a urinary tract infection.

Over the past few months there has been a smell of pee which has recently become noticeably intense.  So yesterday my sheep-wrangler, Morgan, sheared ‘Ster’s under-belly only to find nasty things going on – everything was caught up in the wool and his bits were ulcerated.  Poor, poor boy. This explains the smell.

But hopefully, now with fresh air around his bits, antibiotics and pushing fresh water, things will get better. ‘Ster did a lovely pee this afternoon, which cheered me greatly.  If I had to describe it –  a light pinot grigio in colour, lovely and clear too with a good gush.  That’s what we want.  He has been quite the loaner too but just now he asked to rejoin the flock, which I took as a good sign.

Also, Pepper is three leggedy.  Yesterday, she went on a dog walk on four legs, and came home on three and we don’t know what happened to cause this.  First thing, I took her to the vet and, while nothing obvious was found (no crepitus, no snatching of her leg) there was a little reaction around her elbow.  She is now on regular painkillers and house arrest.  The vet did ask for her to be caged but I said Pepper would hate that and so the compromise of just house-bound was agreed on with the caveat that we would see how she got on.

She has also been replaced by a chicken.

While Pepper as she gets along fine on her three legs, we need her to get better, not just make do.  She does not agree.

So, where were we  (apologies for the cliff-hanger)?

Ah, yes.  So Lambie and Bert were best friends and along came ‘Ster and war broke out resulting in Bert leaving to go and live in the hill for nearly a year.

And the thing is, living in the middle of the hill as we do, I would often see Bert go past.  I even went over to the hill sheep’s shearing pen (crö or cru) in September to ask Bert if he wanted to come home but he just said no thank you, he had his own friends (the hill sheep) now.  So I had to leave him there and it broke my heart.

While Lambie and Ster were very happy growing up together, it didn’t seem right that Bert was not here.

I would be lying if I said either Ster or Lambie missed Bert.  They didn’t but I did.

And then, one day in October 2016, I said to Ster “I really miss Bert” and, with that, Ster left – it is pretty easy to escape from here if you want to.  Lambie, of course, was thrilled because his dream of being an only sheep (child) was finally coming true but I would leave the small gate open into the hill just in case Ster wanted to come home again. Two days later Ster came home accompanied by a very thin moorit (brown) sheep.   I could hardly believe my eyes.

This sheep was emaciated and I didn’t honestly know if it was Bert or not.  He was distrustful and wouldn’t come near me but I sort of knew that it must be Bert.  I spent the day digging up his old lamb photos and looking at this emaciated sheep and wondering.  Could it possibly be?

That day was very strange – magical, so special and Bert was finally home.

So, where did we get to?  Oh, yes…. Lambert had just arrived and was now Lambie’s bestie.  One little happy family.

And then Lambster arrived in November.  He was not in a good way and he needed us so I asked his owner and was promptly given him.

Lambster had a few health issues but  introductions were made and he got along fine with Lambie, who was now happy to have anyone as his friend.  He realised that sheep were a great invention!

But ‘Bert was a different matter. On sight he loathed ‘Ster and decided that there was no way he could like this new little chap who would obviously usurp his role of Lambie’s BFF.  He must’ve known that Lambie was fickle with his affections, as I have found out since.

There was definitely a bad vibe going on.  ‘Bert was unforgiving.  There were battles.

And ‘Ster was über cute.

I mean how could ‘Bert not love that little “badger” face?  We all did.

But apparently ‘Bert could not love ‘Ster one little bit. He thought he was an odious suck-up and so, after a number of big fights, ‘Bert left.  He packed up his little spotty hanky, tied it onto a stick and the minute the gate was open, he went off into the hill to seek his fortune.

I was devastated.

What had I done?

This is a bit of a throw-back Saturday continuing the story of how I found my sheep, or more accurately, how they found me.

So far we have Lambie who arrived, refused to eat, tried to die on numerous occasions and lived in our house under the stairs as part of the family.

As Lambie grew slightly bigger and increasingly annoying (he would stand behind the fire trying to burn himself to death, or chew on computer electric cables), it became very obvious that he needed to a) leave the house and b) have a little friend to keep him company outside and hopefully teach him the ways of sheep.

So I put out a message on Facebook and received many replies, tried and rejected one applicant due to far too much baa’ing and wee’ing (remember, Lambie is house-trained), and finally decided on a little moorit (dark brown) boy lamb who, like Lambie, was an orphan.

This little chap, who we named Lambert, was perfect.  He had lived with other sheep, rather than in a central heated house with dogs and so knew what it was to be a sheep.  He also liked his bottle and was very greedy.  Watching ‘Bert taught Lambie how to drink his bottle quickly rather than dither about in his usual disinterested fashion.

‘Bert was very good for Lambie. They instantly liked each other, which was perfect.  Problem solved, I thought.

(I must admit that I love looking back at these photos).

I remember this afternoon so well – Daisy carrying Lambie over the burn because he couldn’t walk through it like everyone else.  This was all part of Lambie’s physio routine for his crippling joint-ill recovery.

They were just so cute.