As you can see, Hash has the most beautiful, brown fleece and it is a joy to spin. She is, however, the maddest sheep I've ever met. Last year she did not have a lamb and we shall be interested to see if she does this year. She certainly looks as though she might, but it's a bit early to be sure. She spent last year playing 'aunt' to the lambs of the other ewes, teaching them to butt and teaching them to jump about.
She hangs alone, a lot of the time and will often go off to find pastures new, leaving the main flock entirely. But she is always first to the food trough and wants to be friendly, but is rather nervous.
Local knowledge suggests that you do sometimes get a sheep like this. Not sure quite who she is or what she's 'for'. We shall see in the fulness of time. But there's no way we would get rid of her, even if she doesn't have a lamb. She's too individual, her fleece is too lovely and she's such a character.
Sunday, 22 February 2009
Saturday, 14 February 2009
Beans. Posing.
Omelette
The Sheep are Feeling Left Out
Saturday, 7 February 2009
TWO NICE PICS TODAY. SNOW AND DUCKS (AGAIN)
SIX NATIONS RUGBY - NOTHING TO DO WITH DUCKS
The six nations starts today and I have booked the tele.
I feel the need to blog about this, although it doesn't really 'fit' with the ducks, the sheep and the chickens....
I pretty much abhor everything that surrounds the game of rugby. The drinking, the smutty songs, the macho games and the sneaking eye gouging and ear biting. Not to mention the professionalisation which has, inevitably, produced 'stars' who are continuously injured and overstretched and some very dodgy strategies. Nor the mud, the grime, the blood and the general dangerousness of it all.
But, at the top level, the game itself is something I find completely unmissable. There is nothing quite as exhilerating as, for instance, watching Jason Robinson break away and run past men three times his size and weight, to score a try. And, every time, the Welsh national anthem sung by the crowd, reduces me to tears. Of joy! (Particularly if they then go on to win).
So, there may be few posts over the next few week-ends, while I have my annual fix of the game.
But it does make a change for you all from the ducks....at least until I've loaded this morning's pond pictures.
I feel the need to blog about this, although it doesn't really 'fit' with the ducks, the sheep and the chickens....
I pretty much abhor everything that surrounds the game of rugby. The drinking, the smutty songs, the macho games and the sneaking eye gouging and ear biting. Not to mention the professionalisation which has, inevitably, produced 'stars' who are continuously injured and overstretched and some very dodgy strategies. Nor the mud, the grime, the blood and the general dangerousness of it all.
But, at the top level, the game itself is something I find completely unmissable. There is nothing quite as exhilerating as, for instance, watching Jason Robinson break away and run past men three times his size and weight, to score a try. And, every time, the Welsh national anthem sung by the crowd, reduces me to tears. Of joy! (Particularly if they then go on to win).
So, there may be few posts over the next few week-ends, while I have my annual fix of the game.
But it does make a change for you all from the ducks....at least until I've loaded this morning's pond pictures.
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
LACK OF EGG SUCCESS
So. No eggs today. I can only assume they really don't like the snow. Instead of egg news, therefore, I have taken some atmospheric photos...not as much snow as expected, predicted or feared, but it's blocked the lane, nevertheless.
Here you go.
Dogger (the cat) seems to get into a lot of the photos of the ducks. I've cropped him from some of them, but he's still there in one!
And Puff (who is a Silkie cockerel and not a duck) has managed to make an appearance too.
He gets bullied by Charlie, so he lives with the ducks. The fact that he is white does not mean that he is pretending to be a duck, it is purely coincidental!
He's another 'daft as a brush' animal, of the type we seem to inherit. Not much good at being a cockerel with the hens, but a great character. The ducks don't seem to mind him and he has the Pekins to play with during the day, so I don't think his life is a bad one.
Oh, and he gets extra rations just for being who he is.
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