…never did let a shepherd’s plans run smooth.
Duchess was acting like she was in heat this morning; looking over at Duke a lot and calling to him. It’s easy to mistake her normal behavior for heat, but you can’t mistake her in-heat behavior for anything else, the little flirt. Duke was very excited, pacing and rattling his horns on the fence. Ha-ha, I said to her. You’re supposed to be seasonal, and it’s the wrong season. I am not going to let you have a December lamb. Go ahead and baa your heart out; there are two fences and a wide no-sheep’s-land between you.
Several hours later, I look out and there are sheeps in the no-sheep’s-land. Six sheeps, to be precise. All of the sheeps except Barney, who was probably too fluffy to fit through whatever gap Duke squeezed through. The netting on the girls’ side is pulled out of the ground. Duchess is no longer acting like she’s in heat, and Duke’s not acting overly interested in her, so either they had a sudden simultaneous desperation to graze in the middle field, or I just missed all the fun. Yeesh.
If I end up with newborn lambs in December I am going to be very put out.