I wasn’t able to watch the sheep tonight. I started to, but
the first thing I noticed was that their hay feeders were all but empty. Doris
(she looks like a Doris,) the ewe with the high-set eyes who looks at me the
most intensely, looked at me even more intensely than usual and let out an
impassioned, deep-voiced bleat. And then the moist evening air was rent by a cacophony
of equally impassioned bleats as the other ninety nine ewes and lambs joined her in a
chorus of ‘Yeah, you tell him, Doris! Where’s our bloody
hay?’ And they were regarding me to a sheep with almost the same intensity as
dear Doris.
I thought it wise to move on, not least because I felt that my
presence might be leading the poor flock into a false sense of hope for a late
evening feed of hay. I’m sensitive about such things.
They did the same when I came back down the lane a little
while later. I couldn’t help indulging a small chuckle, but actually I felt
rather sorry for them.
4 comments:
Well, you could become the sheep whisperer as you're already extremely empathetic with them. I too get distressed when an animal looks at us and asks us for something we just can't give, esp. if they were a sheep named, "Doris"
That's what bothered me, Wendy - apparently being asked for something I couldn't give them. Doris has a very knowing look about her, and appears to be boss sheep in that there field.
Sheep! They are crack addicts!The three here, I've named them Gilbert, Gretchen and Gretl, let out a cacophony every time they see me. Not to mention how they chase me across the garden for grain. Gilbert is horns first!!!!!
Doris, that poor clone....
I read once taht rams have very hard skulls, and that the best deterrent is a cricket bat.
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