Rampaging Ryelands

A regular reader of these pages will not be surprised by the clip here of the Ryelands spotting a free lunch and descending like locusts on a felled tree. They have voracious appetites and regularly engage in fisticuffs with other species over meal rights. Most recent examples recorded are their blatant attempts to stop the pigs getting into the trailer by filling it themselves once they spotted the bait laid to entice the pork, I mean pigs to their final destination. Last week they upped their game and took on William the Welsh Cob, a very placid and laid back chap unless you interfere with his calorie consumption, even he was driven off his food bowl as they flocked into his stable like a great woolly tsunami and refused to be driven off either by a bad tempered horse or his equally bad tempered owner.

Feeding frenzy over they focus on other pressing matters like formation pooing, this entails them taking it in turns to dump on any clean bit of path, concrete, rock or grass until a suitably slimy mess has been left which will hopefully catch their part time shepherd unawares as he approaches in the darkness of the early evening causing him to slip and launch skywards the bucket of feed destined for another species. The resulting cacophony of swearing and bucket suddenly emptying sound acts as a rallying point to the sheep lurking in the shadows.

Another favorite is for a sheep to take one for the team and lie in wait, placing themselves directly in the path of the oncoming bucket carrier. This is a high risk strategy as said bucket carrier is no light weight and by bringing him down they risk substantial crush injuries. Bucket carrier inevitably prevents total change in circumstance from vertical to horizontal by jettisoning bucket and flailing good arm in the dark to re-establish balance.

There is only one thing that distracts them from their quest for gastronomic gratification, that is the ram Crispy. This morning they were not in their usual locations waiting to cause mayhem. The gate to Crispy's field lay flat on the floor, the woolly hoarde had broken in and from the look on his face they had a wild night of it.

I expect we shall see the results next March. Time does fly on the smallholding.