Sunday 2 October 2011

The Good Companions.

There’s a field off Mill Lane in which a local man keeps unusual breeds of animal. At the last count he had sixteen huge sheep with brown fleece that are definitely not a British breed, six American Quarter Horses, two Shetland ponies and three llamas.

These animals have always been standoffish with me. If I go and lean on the gate that gives access from the lane, the sheep always move away to a safe distance, the llamas sometimes go as far as the other side of the field and regard me suspiciously, while the horses and ponies generally ignore me.

This evening I was taken aback when the sheep made a point of coming towards me. One even let me stroke her fleece; others came close and regarded me with great interest. If that weren’t unusual enough, the llamas apparently decided I was worth knowing as well. All three came across the field to check me out. Admittedly, they did shy slightly when I made to stroke them, but one did at least sniff my hand from a distance of inches. They’ve never come within a hundred yards before. So I asked the question:

‘What is it about Jeffrey that’s so appealing tonight?’

And here’s the odd thing. The llama that came close kept looking at my face and then peering either side of me, as though there were three of us instead of one. I’m growing ever more convinced that I’m not alone on my twilight rambles.

And did I ever mention the time when I was walking on the path at the side of my house, and felt my coat sleeve tugged and my arm pulled back? I turned round expecting to find it caught on a briar or something, but there was nothing anywhere near.

You can understand why I like living here, can’t you? And why Helen says she’s glad she doesn’t live with me any more.

No comments: