Whisper it quietly, but I can hardly move. I was out working the other day and seem to be a little stiff today. To be truthful, I reckon Skye would probably beat me in a race right now, and Pie is going through a very elaborate set of stretches in front of me, humming away about her starting the agility later today. I hope not.
The thing is we had to move the three blackies out of the West Quarry and bring them back to the farm. It's a terrible field with the big wood for them to hide in, and it's not even as if it was normal sheep. I hate blackies. Stubborn, cunning little things that they are, they were darting about here, there and everywhere. Everywhere except where I wanted them to go, so I had to have a rest on the bike after a while while we had a think about it. I got them moved in the end though (a triumph of brain over brawn I say), which was good news but I was really glad there weren't more of them, and I never thought I'd be saying that. Now the devils look as though butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, munching happily away at the grass.
Daisy says I should respect the sheep more and ask them to do these things and life would be easier. Humph! What does she know about it? I say we get in and tell them what to do, then make them do it, as quickly as possible. That makes my life much easier than having to chat to sheep about grass condition, more grass chat, the state of the fences, more grass...yawn...even thinking about it is tiring. Anyway, if they won't listen to me telling them what to do, I send Pie over in a flurry of yapping and legs and she sorts them out for me. Perfect.
Oh well, a quiet day should sort me out. I just hope Pie's wrong about the agility...
Take care
Pip xx
