After keeping their "big girl panties" on for awhile and staying in the pasture with the ewes, Bronwen and Bramble have reverted to being lambs who slip through the bars of the arena and roam around wherever they want, eating wherever they like. (Reminds me of the Pokey Little Puppy, probably because Brian read it to me recently.) This, unfortunately, annoys their humans, as Rick does not like free-range animals (other than the dog and cat) and I don't appreciate all the VM they are collecting in those once-in-their-lifetime lamb fleeces. The other night I sat in the sheepfold for an hour, picking out the worst of the weed seeds - little Velcro balls and needle-like nasties. I've chased their wooly behinds back into the pasture a couple times, but they are out again before I reach the house. I've even found them in the pocket pasture at the opposite end of the arena with Browning and Braveheart! (Somebody please tell me that not-quite-four-month-old ewe lambs can't get pregnant!)
And when they roam, they cause baa-andimonium - they both yell, the ram lambs yell, Browning yells . . . and I get a headache. I've got it fixed now so they can't get past the arena or ram lot, but would like to keep them out of the latter as well. Having access to even prepubescent girls is making Braveheart punchy:
This morning I finally realized they might be hungry, given the dried-out state of their pasture, so I hung a hay bag on the outside of Russell's paddock panel. Judging from its reception, I was right. I have GOT to find some more second or third cutting orchard grass soon!
That's all the whining for now from . . .
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