Cody 1 Dyson 0

The perpetual battle between dog and hoover is at last over.  Yesterday, at 15:34 precisely, the trusty Dyson gave up the ghost, and with a final cough, splutter and choke, expired in a haze of electrical smoke, finally beaten by the husky fur.

Our thoughts and best wishes are with his nearest: the fridge-freezer and electric drill.

Dyson Animal, rest in peace.

The hills are alive with the sound of … bleating

Last night I was woken in the early hours by the call of nature – nothing as tawdry as bladder-related issues, but rather the urgent and impassioned cries of lambs and ewes.  It's that cruel time of year when they are weaned – ewes in one field, lambs in another far, far away.  And the cattle are not immune to such separations either, the young'uns bellowing their sorrow loudly across the countryside. 

To be fair, the evening before we walked the sheep down from the high fields, I had told them what was going to happen and that they should make the most of their last night together, but I was met with blank stares – sheep seem determined not to understand anything. 

On the day, we had extra help in the shape of Joey and Rob.  As long as the quad bike is nowhere in sight or sound, Joey is a reasonable herder and can complement Sonny nicely, while Rob is happy to wander along  keeping them moving.

Joey waits expectantly

Rob, Joey and Sonny keep the girls moving

Once down at the sheds we have our routine.  Get the ewes and lambs into the race; give the lambs a mineral drench and a parasite drench; run everyone into the top yard; coax small batches into the holding pen in the alley to administer pedicures and shave kakky bottoms if needed; run everyone into the bottom yard.  Start again – get the ewes and lambs into the race, run them through the foot-bath, down through the alley, into the bottom yard.  Start again – get the ewes and lambs into the race, separate ewes to the left, lambs to the right; manhandle mis-sorted animals onto the correct side; let ewes into the top yard, down through the alley, into the bottom yard and off to the field.  Then – oh you get it – the same with the lambs.

In the race

And all this done to the accompaniment of a cacophony of bleats, moans, baas, splatters and farts (the sheep, not us) and the occasional cuss word (us, not the sheep).

Rob practices his "Parting of the sheep" 

Only got to do this for three more flocks.

Strange thing:  had to help rescue a sheep from our neighbours' swimming pool today.  It was mighty clean when it came out.

And from last week:

Rob: "Where has Ian gone?"

Ian F: "Up to the sheds to get some crap."

Rob: "What's he getting?"

Ian F: "I told you, some crap."

…ten loads of cow poop to send for parasite testing.  Ian had to stand patiently behind ten different cows to await the latest and freshest contribution.  And I was not there with a camera – rats!