Silence of the Lambs
No sooner did I warn Mr Brown not to get too attached to the sheep and they were gone. Having spent his time here getting to know them - chasing them out of their shady spots under the Hawthorn bush just because he could, moving them on out of the shelter and sneaking up on the lambs to say ‘BOO’, it was a downer to have them moved to the wee field, rounded up, and removed for shearing purposes. Not that it was a smooth removal, and not that the departure of the noisy craturs wasn’t at least welcome to the human occupants of the Croft, as they managed to be even noisier than the donkey. It involved 5 of us chasing them round in circles while Spook and I attempted to display our crofting credentials to the McFarmers.
Mr McFarmer demonstrated the basics and after a magnificent tackle, Spook managed to get a bit of a sheep.
Whilst this was helpful on the shearing front, it wasn’t getting the flock to where they needed to be. Mr McFarmer suggested he try something a bit smaller.
Mr Brown ran up and down the other field braying with indignation as they were HIS sheep to chase, not ours.
Once the sheep were ready to go I just had to round up Spook.
“Way tae me, Spook, way tae me!”
Job done.
The silence of the lambs is wonderful but has left Mr Brown a wee bit lonely. He was sulking in his shed one day when he suddenly noticed 2 magnificent horses being walked along the road in the care of their female Handlers. They were huge - the size of police horses - and Mr Brown clearly thought they were his own kin as he raced across the field letting loose 2 very loud and extended brays, his wee legs going like the clappers and his stubby Wee tail wagging enthusiastically. He had never looked more like the donkey in Shrek. They reared up with a lack of mutual respect, and a look of horror at this wee abomination while the Handlers expertly kept them in check. As they strolled along the road back under control, Mr Browns legs were going in double time to keep up. But this was unrequited love and, just like the sheep, they too moved on.
Having snubbed us on a regular basis, he has now allowed himself to submit to grooming and head rubs. His bottom has returned to good health thanks to the magical ointment and my perseverance to get in aboot it. Local children come and visit him quite regularly and with no one else to annoy he will happily blow the hair off their faces now and then with a loud hello.
Other things (but not much) have been achieved out with the animal chaos.
Spook made a chair.
And I made a tomato and some radishes.
Which means I am no longer crippled by envy and anxiety over other people’s efforts. A tomato’s a tomato. And just because no one in the family likes radishes is no reason not to feel proud.
The Croft security system is still in place though not totally reliable yet.
After a hard day trying not to harass goats, hens and donkeys, he likes to slip into something comfortable and just relax.
