Barry buys the farm

Life's tough on the hill for the sheep, that's why ours stay for the most part in the yard, often curled up asleep on the doorstep. You get used to having them around and although they are destined for a big sleep in MrWhirlpool you cant help but get attached to them. Especially as they are such teddy bear cute types. Which is why its been such a bad day here.
Not much passing traffic where we live, we get the odd militia member on a quad, the occasional ambulance lost looking for patients, but mostly there is no traffic on our dirt track other than that which we invite.
Cue white van man who thinks dirt track equals chance to show off road driving prowess and thunders into the yard to deliver much needed parts for wood burning stove. Cheers. No problem. Reverses back down dirt track almost as fast.
Militia turn up with large four by four dragging overloaded trailer full of much needed hay. Much joviality while unloading, hay safely stacked on the move twice principle, once from trailer, once to starving animal, not nine times like the last lot. Anyway it was while I supervised the militia reversing that the tragedy was discovered. Barry White, above, must have been slower at moving than White Van Man in reverse and was lay on his side by the trough apparently dead. Unfortunately he wasn't but his back leg was shattered, just the skin holding it together. The pain must have been unbearable. We did what we could to make his last mortal moments as comfortable as possible but thankfully he died quietly. Life's hard enough without having to dodge Ford transits. Poor lad.