I tried to get pictures of my sheep mamas with their grown-up babies, but they were not cooperative. The sun also kept popping in and out from behind clouds and made the shadows odd. The only “Mother and baby” picture I got was of Holly and her constant shadow, Marigold. I wish the light in the barn was better in the mornings and evenings so I could get a picture of how Marigold still worries about losing track of her mama when they’re coming in and out, and drapes her front legs across Holly’s back and runs sideways on her hind legs so they don’t get separated.
“I’ve got my eye on you, ShepherdPerson! No snatching my lamb!”
It’s early enough in the year still some of the Soays may still shed, but I’m pretty sure Holly will need help this year. Her old wool is starting to dangle pretty low where it came loose but felted together before it quite fell off. They are all itchy and irritable when the weather gets warm and the loose wool gets uncomfortable.
Of course my photography efforts were complicated by having my own baby Mira underfoot. Literally, at times. I wasn’t paying enough attention to her and she forced her way between my knees. I think she might have been trying to scrape her wool off against my legs.
“Stop paying attention to things-that-are-not-me!”
I walked up to visit the Dukelings, who are not mothers but should be grateful to them, given how often I’ve told them when they’re in trouble that I only put up with them out of affection for their mothers. They remain unimpressed by any of my complaints about their shenanigans.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am a treasure and a delight!”
Apple’s perfect confidence in his own charm is sadly too endearing for me to ever stay annoyed with him for long. He is the friendliest of the four Dukelings and every morning waits for me to scratch his chin and say hello before leaving the barn with his brothers. He also looks like he will need help getting rid of his old wool.
Mira followed me down to the fence and was standing behind me giving me the backward ears of annoyance. And maybe waiting to see if there were any treats available for her, as my baby.
“I SAID, stop paying attention to things-that-are-not-me!”
And Lady also came by, a bit more cautiously, to see if there might be any treats available for her, as the flock matriarch.
“What are you doing out here if you don’t have treats for me?”
I suppose pictures of Lady are fitting for mother’s day. She was always a very excellent mother, and she’s the only ewe in the flock who still keeps tabs on her sons as well as her daughter and granddaughter. I think she’s mostly the flock queen by virtue of having a built-in group of followers in the form of her lambs.
Of course the boss is usually the oldest ewe and the only other ewe Lady’s age is Duchess, who emphatically does not want the job. She’s temperamentally unsuited to that kind of pressure and was a nervous wreck the one time I tried splitting the flock during breeding season in a way that left her as the oldest female and therefore the ewe in charge. Which in turn made the rest of the flock with her a nervous wreck as well. That was not a fun experiment.
“I’m very sneaky!”
She didn’t follow me down to the boys, she just spied on me through the fence. Spying through the fence, even a wire fence, is much safer and more fun than looking through the open gate right next to her.
Her son, Clover, spied on me through the fence on the other side of the same gate.
“What are you up to, ShepherdPerson?”
Angel, who stood with her whole body in the gate and half her face behind the post, did not understand the assignment I think. In her defense, she is not generally a cautious sort of sheep and her biological mother Mira was at that moment trying to crawl into my lap and chew on the camera strap where I’d crouched down to take pictures, so “sneaky” is not something that comes naturally to her.
“Ha, you can’t see me behind this post!”
Usually Duchess and Daisy are almost as close as Marigold and Holly, but Daisy was busy doing a Misery Plop instead of following her mama as usual so I didn’t get a good picture of them. A Misery Plop is when your loose wool is driving you crazy and you can’t get it to come off so you just collapse to the ground in frustration and sulk about it. In her shaggy coat with her head and legs hidden she looked like a lump of solid wool.
“Grrrrr, this is so miserable!”
This sulking should not be mistaken as a request for help of course. The only thing worse than having loose itchy wool is ShepherdPerson trying to take your loose itchy wool away.
“You keep your nasty shears to yourself, ShepherdPerson! I’ll do it all by myself!”
From experience I usually have a pretty good idea who will be able to shed and who will need help. Flynn got sheared earlier this week, but I think he’s mostly forgiven me. He’s been hanging out a lot with the Shetlands and Neo, as fellow frequent shearing victims.
“It’s weird, I feel a lot lighter and cooler since ShepherdPerson was so mean and cut all my wool off. Do you think that’s connected, Neo?”
“I don’t see how it could be, I’m sure it’s a coincidence!”
Neo hasn’t been sheared yet this year but he and Mira are both on the list of Soays who never manage to shed at all, so their turns are coming. Neo is an easy-going sheep and usually doesn’t get too mad at me about it. He’s a very good boy.
“Wait for me! Where’s my treats? You better not try to pull on my loose wool, Mommy!”
Mira is a very dramatic sheep in general, so she gets very dramatically mad when I pull off loose tufts of her wool or have to shear her entirely, and always makes sure I see how thoroughly she’s ignoring me about it. But fortunately for me she is too attached to her crunchies and petting to give me the cold shoulder for long. I suppose there are some perks to being her mama, even if she doesn’t give me a mother’s day card.