Like the pound coin down the back of the sofa, King Tut’s tomb, and that WW2 bomber that turned up on the moon, our sheep have been found. Hurrah! They had cut a marauding swathe through the Somerset countryside and taken up residence in a neighbouring farmer’s field a couple of miles away.
So you would think that’s a perfect conclusion to a worrying tale, right? Well, locating them, and returning them to our field are two very different things. In short, our sheep are little bastards, with an innate distrust of trailers and a penchant for outsmarting humans. The upshot of this is we are both very muddy and have only been able to recover 5 out of 8 sheep. We’re still working on wrangling the other 3.
Fortunately, Simon – the farmer whose field they’re in is very understanding and quite happy for the sheep to hang out at his place until we can get them back again, even if he does find the whole thing hilariously funny.
Unfortunately, Simon is a cattle farmer and has no experience with sheep. Neither, indeed, does his dog, although that didn’t stop him having a go at rounding them up.
Before this incident Simon was considering getting some sheep…after meeting ours he said “I think I’ll stick with the cows!”