BB very much likes the girls.
The girls do not like BB yet.
The girls very much like
BB, therefore, very much does not like me.
I make a point not to go into the field with Duke when he’s in with the girls for that very reason, but somehow it didn’t occur to me that BB would see me as a rival. I have a lovely bruise on my leg to remind me that Rams In Rut Are Really Dumb. Fortunately, BB is too small to be terribly dangerous.
I give BB points for dedication though; the bruise is at least six inches higher than I thought he could reach, so he must have really put a lot of effort into that flying leap at his perceived Bitter Rival. Now I understand the unflattering nickname his owner gave him.
I put Prince Bran in there with the breeding group a few days ago to keep BB company, (BB can’t behave himself well enough to share a stall with Nova and Mira at night) but he doesn’t seem to think Bran is competition. I’d think a wethered boy sheep would be more of a rival than a female human, but as I mentioned before, Rams In Rut Are Really Dumb.
“Mom, I’m telling you, this pen is too small and I want out! Right now!”
Mira and Nova managed to escape out the gate when I was filling their hay feeder yesterday, and since neither was in heat I decided to let them stay out rather than opening the gate again and risking the ram getting out, too. That would just be my luck. I sorted them back out when I let everyone out of the barn this morning, but Mira’s got it in her head now that escape is possible, so it’s making her more determined than ever to climb the fence.
“Hi, ShepherdPerson! I noticed you’re facing this way, so I decided to stand here in front of you so you’ll notice how hungry I am!”
“Pfft, fine, go ahead and pay attention to Lady! Not like you ever pay attention to ME! I’m just going to stomp off and pout somewhere.”
I put my hand out to Lady like I do every morning, but instead of nuzzling my fingers she jumped back like I’d shocked her. I offered her a crunchy treat and she actually started stomping her hoof at me like she thought I was a threat. I was confused and a bit hurt until I realized it wasn’t me she was afraid of, she was spooked by my gloves. Winter accessories always throw the sheep off for some reason the first time I wear them, but it was twenty-three degrees out this morning, so I needed gloves.
Once they get a chance to sniff/chew/stomp on whatever the new ScaryStrangeThing is, they usually dismiss it as just another SillyHumanThing and ignore it after that. I pulled off one of my gloves and tossed it on the ground so they could investigate, but they acted like I’d tossed a snake at them and wouldn’t come within two feet of it. I guess I picked an exceptionally scary pair of gloves to wear.
“We want crunchies but that ScaryHandEatingThing is in the way!”
They stood there shifting around eyeing it nervously until I picked it back up and put it in my lap. Then Neo was brave enough to come sniff at it.
“What is this ScaryHandEatingThing?!”
I made the mistake of shifting my weight, which made the glove move, which sent Neo sprinting off back to the rest of the flock. I had to take both gloves off and put them in my pocket before they would come back. Oh well. Hopefully they’ll get used to the gloves eventually.
Unfortunately the aversion to gloves didn’t extend to BB. He was not at all intimidated by the scary gloves and I ended up having to use my stock cane to shoo him away from the gate so I could get back to the house. He wandered off and got into another disagreement with the hay feeder. Definitely understanding that nickname.
Mira was still giving me the cold shoulder, but she followed me down to the gate anyway just to make sure I noticed how much she was ignoring me. At least she found a sympathetic outlet for her woes in Watcher.
“Mommy’s so mean and she’s keeping me in this tiny pen and won’t let me out and she’s paying attention to OTHER SHEEP! It’s terrible!”
“I know the feeling! She never lets me go into the bathroom and drink out of the toilet, and she’s always petting Echo at the same time she’s playing with me! So mean!”
Spoiled babies are spoiled. That’s what I get for being such an overindulgent mother. Mira had better raise her own lamb(s) by herself, or my grandkid(s) might end up the most spoiled of all.