Duke managed to find a 6″ weak point of the fence right by the barn, and even more impressive, cram his big shaggy bulk through what I could have sworn was too small a gap for him to fit through. It involved climbing halfway up the fence and turning his head backwards so the tips of his horns wouldn’t get caught in the panels. I am reluctantly impressed with his ingenuity. I am less impressed that he bred at least two of the ewes, so now I have the “to-Lutalyse-or-not-to-Lutalyse” quandry to decide in the next few days. I really wasn’t planning on any lambs this year. I have never met an animal so determined to ensure the continuation of his genetic line in my life.
Fixing the weak point in the fence is a bit involved, so until it’s fixed the girls have to stay in the back field (containing the weak spot) and Duke has to stay in the front fields which does not have any weak points
that I’m aware of. yet. I’m not too happy about this, because I like having the girls closer to the house, but it beats ending up with every ewe in the flock bred because Duke won’t stay where I put him.
“Off we go!”
The flock was mostly happy to follow Lady off across the big new field, although Mira dawdled behind a bit, and Angel wouldn’t leave my side at all for a long time. She’s never been in the back field before, and it was a bit scary for her.
“Don’t leave me out here! It’s scary! I’m hungry! Give me treats and put everything back the way it was!”
I suspect that maybe Angel is starting to pretend she’s scared so I’ll dote on her, the same way her mother always pretends to be sick. Or at least play up how scared she is. She’s always clinging to my leg and crying while I’m outside, but if I’m not there she runs around, picks constant fights with Griffin, and seems to get along fine.
While Angel was busy being melodramatic, her grandsire, Duke, was being even more melodramatic running up and down the fenceline calling for the girls.
“Why won’t she let me make any more lambs?”
Wonders Duke, while five of his twelve lambs and grandlambs wander by in the background. Every Soay or half-Soay on the farm is descended from Duke except for Lady, Duchess, Prince Bran, and Griffin. Enough is enough, Duke.
The Dukelings were too busy to bother about the girls; they had too much exploring and climbing to do. The girls’ field has a
fallen tree mountain for them to play on. It is a Splendid Game to climb up on the tallest part of the stump. It’s an even more Splendid Game to knock each other off.
“I bet I can climb the highest!”
“Watch me get up on the stump!”
Cedar and Bran abandoned the game in favor of eating dead leaves, but the others played for quite a while. One or another of the Dukelings did manage to get up on top of the stump a few times, but someone else always knocked him off of his lofty perch before I could get a picture.
I have to admit, Duke does make awfully cute babies, even if they are troublemakers. He already has a dozen, maybe another one or two won’t hurt…
… somebody remind me I said that next year if I end up with six lambs running around causing havoc.