Numbering the Sheep.

My walk took me through the field at the top the lane where the people from Home Farm keep their sheep. They have lambs now – two or three kiddies per momma. They have numbers, too. Momma 17 has a big 17 painted on her flanks, while the kiddies have little 17s painted on theirs. I suppose it helps foster a sense of belonging.

They’re not there for the sheep’s benefit, you bozo. They’re there so the farmer knows which lambs belong to which ewes.

Really?

Of course.

Belong?

Of course.

You mean sheep don't read Khalil Gibran?

You're a nutter, mate.

Oh, well. What a shame. Anyway, however big a dampener my boring friend here wants to put on things, the fact may be stated without fear of reasonable contradiction that the lambs are insufferably cute.