Gates slam shut, the rolls of chestnut paling are out, its that time of year; when the grazing gets scarce and the most determined sheep make a break for it, having more reason than most to believe that ‘the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.’
Each year there is a mini flock of three or four sheep that roam the area, like a street gang, wrecking gardens turning over flower pots, storming through hedges and pulling down walls. They always have a leader, a dodgy looking character who can scramble over walls and roll across cattle grids, taking it’s gang of wannabe’s with them. Who owns them we can never find out, as at this time of the year, a lot of grazing land is sub-let, this motley bunch, have been marked by raddle from the tup, but that’s the only marks they are showing, they are in need of an ASBO or a lift to the slaughter house, we don’t mind which and its worse than ever this year, not only are we are plagued by this rag tag group of four, there is an additional gang of seven who at present are holed up in our field.
We just keep moving them on, sending over the hill, but they will be back,