THE GOATS & SHEEP . . . AGAIN! - Feb 2014

We have suffered the consequences of becoming complacent. 

Over the best part of the summer & autumn we have had few, if any encounters with the goats and sheep. We had made the assumption that Will had repaired the surrounding fences so well that the sheep could no longer get onto our land . . . WRONG!!

We had also assumed that when the goats came down the mountain for winter, presumably because vegetation up there becomes sparse while the lower land is still lush, that they were no longer interested in travelling in mass through land where people now belonged for fear they would be chased away . . . WRONG AGAIN!! 


 So, who came trip-trapping into MY field?

When I was young I loved listening to the story about the Three Billy Goats Gruff, but how I hated That Troll. Each time I heard the story, an image of That Troll appeared in my mind. The most frightening, hideous monster I could conjure up. How I loved it when the goats won! How things have changed. I am now on the side of That Troll. 

In fact . . . I AM that Troll!

Now, meet Gladys the sheep . . . 

We know she is called Gladys because she has a (somewhat faded now) 'G' tattooed on her back!!

A few weeks ago Gladys started to appear in our field, until she was there on a daily basis from before we awoke each morning. This increased to twice a day when she returned for an afternoon nibble having been chased out during the morning.

This increased yet again when she took to returning to the field as soon as our backs were turned.

We have searched the fence for holes, low bits, climbable bits, but we can find nothing. We have no idea at all how she gets in. We know how she gets out. The same route every time over an old ruined wall and into her field. She cannot return this way as it is too high on her side.

Then . . . I discovered a whole herd of goats right outside the conservatory nibbling what looked like very unappetising twigs, bark and my scrappy looking plants.

Now this may not look appetising to us, but this is the attempt at a bog which is fast becoming a compost pit. Scattered around it are some juicy vegetable peelings. 

I was of the opinion that goats ate anything. Not true! they choose to skirt around the juicy vegetable peelings and eat the bark from trees which I am trying desperately hard to grow

At least they have left the budding daffodils alone

I gave chase. I chased them up the bank and along the path . . .

where they decided to separate,

two into the farmer's field, the rest into our field . . .

where they divided again, some to my left and some onto the drive . . .

Let me tell you Julie Andrews - I do not believe there is such a thing as a 'Lonely Goatherd' in existence. Trying to herd a load of goats in one mass is near impossible. They don't all follow the leader in the way sheep do. Oh no . . . they are far more cunning. They keep dividing into smaller groups so one lone person herding has NO chance. 
So Mr Lonely Goatherd, I reckon you weren't so lonely and had a pal of some sort, or a dog up on those mountains to help you out.

Having decided that herding goats is not a job for one person, I yodelled for Will's support. 

The goats in the field ran back up to the top of our field

and down our field

and into a scrum where they discussed the best annoying option 

They led us a merry dance until eventually they climbed over a wall into the neighbouring field

And if you have never heard a wild goat, they don't bleat like sheep. No, they have a very mocking type of laugh "heh heh heh". They jeer at us, as if to say "Heh heh heh, I'm up here - can't catch me. heh heh heh!" "Heh heh heh - Now you're up there, I'm down here, Heh heh heh!"

We were pleased to see that when the remainder ran into a newly fenced off area, they wouldn't/couldn't jump over the fence! (Could we be winning???). So they squeezed past us as at great speed . . .

up the side of the house . . .

and out of the gate at last . . .

leaving an extremely pungent aroma behind them!


If I haven't lost weight on my scales tomorrow morning I'll be sorely miffed!




Next blog - The storms