Minxy, Minxy. Somehow I seem to say that a lot these days, my girl. Mid-morning today, we had yet another sheepie breakout, and like I’d feared the last time, what I did was tell Minx exactly where the pellets were stored. That time, she’d gone around behind the house where they were stored last year, but now she knows they are in the hay house. This time we grabbed the camera before heading out, and they were all milling around, just waiting, and all headed back into their pen for the grain, except for two of them. Guess who?
When I opened up the door flap to the hoop house, there Minx and Miguel were, calmly trying to get the lid off of the garbage can that the grain is stored in. “Hi, Mom! We’d like some more grain now, please.” She is trouble, this one. I started wondering now at the wisdom of breeding her to Miguel, another sheep with leadership lines. What was I thinking? I want smart sheep why, exactly? They eagerly followed me back into the pen, easily, at least.
Valerie came by today, to pick up some of her remaining stuff, to give us the CAD files for the chicken coop that she did up for us, to let Angel run around and chase her ball for a while, and to spoil the sheep rotten. She brought bags of carrots and apples for the little gluttons. The sheepies all remembered her still, of course. She brings treats!
Not an hour after she left, I heard a ruckus out there again, and when I looked out I couldn’t see anything at all. They were all upset though, including humming llamas, and Miguel was bashing madly, even with what seemed all his girls still with him. We know, though, that these guys don’t cry wolf without a reason, so out we went, again.
Minx! I had been extra careful tying up the gate in that pen. They’d had extra grain today already, plus treats. She’s just being a pain in the neck today. I mean, more so than usual. When I walked over, she was actually in the hay house, and came out when I called her. “Hi, Mom!”
Minx is a big ewe, actually, and has a full winter coat right now. The size of the opening that she got out of was really small! There were tell-tale signs of wool down there, and I think it’s funny that no one else figured out how to follow her this time. So now we’ve got to tie that pallet top and bottom. Brat. I wish we’d put it the other direction so we could climb over it like we do in Sue’s pen.
Oh, well. It’s Saturday. Time for fun and a bit of excitement on the farm, animal style.