Late for breakfast

The ewe that had a lucky escape last Sunday has turned up in the yard with our flockers, she seems none the worse for wear and has the hots for Crispen.

This has caused a bit of a rift between him and Geisha our confused Anglo Nubian, she lovingly duffs him up most mornings and he returns the compliment late afternoon. They seemed to have got into a shoving match by the step to nowhere, neither would give in until they were given a stern talking to and sent to separate ends of the smallholding.

The lucky ewe must have a death wish, I found her this morning straddling the stock fence after an attempt to jump into the militias field went horribly wrong. It will take more than a rubbish acrobatic act to turn our Crispen's head.