Tag Archives: Lambie

Sheep Decisions

I can see the sheep field from the bathroom window. I find that it is a very good way to keep an eye on them to see whether they’ve gone out or not.

Today, Lambie hadn’t moved from the spot where I left him – the concrete step outside the wee shed. Yes, two hours later and he was still standing there.

Sighing, I put on my waterproofs (the weather was vile) and went outside to see what was going on.

Nothing, absolutely nothing.

No one was going out and grazing like they should. It’s their job. They know that. Yes, they do.

Bert was close by but he was being sensible. He had found a nice sheltered place and was enjoying the view, while chewing his cud.

I went up and told him he was a very good boy. He appreciated that. Such a dear boy.

Meanwhile, these two reprobates were making the most of an open gate and were quickly leaving their field to go back to bed.

Or so I thought. No, Lambie stood by the gate for a few hours and then went back into the field while Ster drifted around the croft forgetting where everyone was. I later found him sitting outside my front door!

And meanwhile the lovely bedroom remained unused (they still haven’t forgiven me yet for letting the old horses use it for one whole night).

The Many Faces of Want

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Everyone always wants something. Everywhere I go. Want, want, want.

Monster ⬇️ – he wanted my last night’s pre-supper snack (mini cheesey biccies) accompanying my zero alcohol lager while I waited for supper to finish cooking.

Plan B. The Attack – basically endless amounts of indignant shouting alternating between promising to be my friend.

Apparently my BFF ⬇️. This is “cupboard love” at it’s very worst.

Pepper just did sulking resentfully. Those eyes make it impossible not to feel guilty.

And then there is Lambie’s helpful, yet silly, face. I had scattered Animal Crackers on the ground and the sheep had just about finished them.

“You have more biscuits, you say?”

Bert’s has a gorgeous begging face. Again, it is hard to resist. I would give (feed) him the world if he wanted.

Lambie’s tactic is to get out his best Winning Smile, Longing Look and wave a front foot at me. The front foot waving means Lambie really, really, wants whatever I have of calorific nature and then I dig into my pocketses and give him a secret biccie, if I have one. I didn’t. There is probably a special place in Hell waiting for me now. I have to live with myself.

Sheep, Sheep and More Sheep

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After their breakfast, I put all the sheep out into their field for the day. It was a nice bright start and so Bert went straight to “his” shed.

Yes, that’s right, it’s Bert’s shed now. Move over Fivla and Vitamin (they’ve left the field anyway), Bert’s in da house!

Lambie thought he might like a go in the shed too.

But Bert was having none of it. His shed, dontcha know (there’s probably a Law somewhere).

Ster was miles away.

He wasn’t interested in sheep-shed politics.

Maggie and Barrel were not shed folk either.

Ditto Gussie and Dahlia. It’s funny how the boys still stay with their mothers (or is it the other way around?)

Madge was on her way out to the hill to join all the bloody hill sheep that can now get in thanks to Kolka’s attempts at show-jumping last week.

Anyway, back to Bert and Lambie.

I don’t actually think Lambie minded very much.

He gave me one of his Winning Smiles and I decided not to get involved.

I spent the rest of my day making sheep. One in the morning and one in the afternoon because a) my stock is low now, b) Wool Week is looming and c) I have a tiny social life and will have to miss a few afternoons stabbing due to other commitments.

I went back outside at teatime and found Bert back in his shed (I do hope he made the most of the day and actually left for a few hours).

And this time Lambie had snuck in too (and apparently Ster, I found out later). To be fair it was raining and the sheep told me they were only in there only because they would melt otherwise. Who knew?

Quirky Sheepies

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Another quiet day in my life, which is perfect. Drama and me don’t mix.

So here are some quirky photos of the sheep. All of them except for Dahlia, who wouldn’t come home, preferring to spend her evening/night with Fivla and Vitamin, my two ancient Shetland ponies.

First there is Harrel the Barrel, who has grown up into a big boy. Equal thug and charmer when he wants something. He always wants something.

‘Ster, who is quite aged now – around 11 years old. He likes a quiet life, enjoys his extra breakfast and doesn’t want hassle.

Madge (you remember, Edna’s daughter) – I am still determined to tame down. One of these days she will talk to me but that day has not occurred yet and Hell has not frozen over. I remain the optimist.

My beloved ‘Bert. Another old gentleman. One of the original three with ‘Ster and Lambie. He is a dear boy and an old soul.

Gussie has also grown up into a solid chap. He is my right hand man, quite literally, if he is around he is always next to my hand so I know he’s there. I like that.

Dear little Maggie, Harrel’s mother and such a sweetie. She is always torn between being Dahlia’s best friend or Gussie’s girlfriend. She likes attention and food, in that order.

And lastly, of course, there is a very long-in-the-tooth Lambie who has teeth like a pirate nowadays. But he is old and I forgive him everything. Much as I would love to say he is always next to me, he mostly isn’t as I threaten to hug him a lot.

And whose your favourite? ❤️