I'm sitting in the forge today...
Mar. 30th, 2025 12:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
glassy_witch...and I can hear my sheep singing to me from square field on the other side of the wall. It's impressive, how loud my wooligans can be - particularly if they are yodelling for snacks. The fan on the forge is pretty loud in the enclosed space, but I can still pick out the plaintive wailing of Neil, and the no nonsense foghorn of Charlie, both of whom are quite convinced that they are quite starving. Then there's Terry, who would quite like to come and see what we're doing please...and Sybil, who is wondering why everyone else is shouting, so thinks she might as well join in.
I only have seven sheep. I did have eight, but Ewedini had to go back to her original flock because she was such a good escape artist. She never went out of sight of the flock, but I was worried she would one day jump into the scrub and land badly. A sheep stuck on her back for a prolonged period is not in for the best of times. So, off she went, a few miles back up the road to her old home. I do miss her, but I don't miss the anxiety.
My sheep are...therapy sheep. We used to keep store lambs which would be fattened up for food. But then the slaughterman got too old to do it any more, and because we don't travel sheep (everything was done on site, no needless cramming into huge lorries and travelling for miles among a superflock of unfamiliar, panicking animals) it was decided to stop. But then the grass got out of hand, and the land looked so very empty. So I got my hands on a couple of Dartmoor greyfaces in need of a pet home. Now, growing up, these were the sheep I saw on the moors. I grew up in a small village on the edge of Dartmoor, and looking back, I can see I had it so good. I chafed at it a bit by 17/18, but as a kid it was perfect.
And so I had two. But then there were three more in need of a home - two rams and a ewe. So, they came to me. They were closely followed by a vet's bill to un-ram the two boys. And THEN I found someone nearby with Herdwicks- my father in law's favourite breed. And so three tiny black lambs joined the flock of hoofing great white carpet rolls year or so later.
I do love my sheep. They are so funny, each with their own distinct personality. They all love a bit of fuss, and Douglas will try and sit in your lap. Queenie is standoffish until you have a scoop in your hand. Then she expects you to stand there and let her eat from the scoop while the peasants crowd around the troughs. Jingle is a friendly fellow and will amble up for a scritch. He sits on his haunches like a dog to let you get that REALLY itchy bit behind his tiny horns. Terry will shove everybody else out of the way until he's satisfied with fuss levels received and Charlie....Charlie is ever the stoic, and just wants to lean on you for a bit. Sybil likes to pretend she doesn't care whether she gets fussed over or not, but makes the most adorable happy chuckle noise when she does. Neil and Douglas meanwhile, will always amble across together and then fight over who gets fussed first. The brothers tend to stick together, although Douglas (ear tag number 42, it was meant to be) tends to be a lot quieter than his extrovert sibling.
The anvil is ringing out as I watch my youngest stepson try and straighten a piece of bar. It's these things, along with the archery, the woodland management, and the glass work, that most of his friends miss out on. I'm glad we have so many options to keep him occupied that don't involve a screen and isolation. I had them growing up and I would hate not offering the same to the next generation. I'd love to offer the chance for his friends to come by and try out these things too, but the whole thing about insurances and everything else puts me off. It was simpler when I was a kid.
Today is a lazy day. There really aren't enough of these. That said, I'm fairly sure I don't recall my parents getting any of those when I was a kid.
I only have seven sheep. I did have eight, but Ewedini had to go back to her original flock because she was such a good escape artist. She never went out of sight of the flock, but I was worried she would one day jump into the scrub and land badly. A sheep stuck on her back for a prolonged period is not in for the best of times. So, off she went, a few miles back up the road to her old home. I do miss her, but I don't miss the anxiety.
My sheep are...therapy sheep. We used to keep store lambs which would be fattened up for food. But then the slaughterman got too old to do it any more, and because we don't travel sheep (everything was done on site, no needless cramming into huge lorries and travelling for miles among a superflock of unfamiliar, panicking animals) it was decided to stop. But then the grass got out of hand, and the land looked so very empty. So I got my hands on a couple of Dartmoor greyfaces in need of a pet home. Now, growing up, these were the sheep I saw on the moors. I grew up in a small village on the edge of Dartmoor, and looking back, I can see I had it so good. I chafed at it a bit by 17/18, but as a kid it was perfect.
And so I had two. But then there were three more in need of a home - two rams and a ewe. So, they came to me. They were closely followed by a vet's bill to un-ram the two boys. And THEN I found someone nearby with Herdwicks- my father in law's favourite breed. And so three tiny black lambs joined the flock of hoofing great white carpet rolls year or so later.
I do love my sheep. They are so funny, each with their own distinct personality. They all love a bit of fuss, and Douglas will try and sit in your lap. Queenie is standoffish until you have a scoop in your hand. Then she expects you to stand there and let her eat from the scoop while the peasants crowd around the troughs. Jingle is a friendly fellow and will amble up for a scritch. He sits on his haunches like a dog to let you get that REALLY itchy bit behind his tiny horns. Terry will shove everybody else out of the way until he's satisfied with fuss levels received and Charlie....Charlie is ever the stoic, and just wants to lean on you for a bit. Sybil likes to pretend she doesn't care whether she gets fussed over or not, but makes the most adorable happy chuckle noise when she does. Neil and Douglas meanwhile, will always amble across together and then fight over who gets fussed first. The brothers tend to stick together, although Douglas (ear tag number 42, it was meant to be) tends to be a lot quieter than his extrovert sibling.
The anvil is ringing out as I watch my youngest stepson try and straighten a piece of bar. It's these things, along with the archery, the woodland management, and the glass work, that most of his friends miss out on. I'm glad we have so many options to keep him occupied that don't involve a screen and isolation. I had them growing up and I would hate not offering the same to the next generation. I'd love to offer the chance for his friends to come by and try out these things too, but the whole thing about insurances and everything else puts me off. It was simpler when I was a kid.
Today is a lazy day. There really aren't enough of these. That said, I'm fairly sure I don't recall my parents getting any of those when I was a kid.