I am able to report that all thirty-nine "ladies" ended up with pink bottoms! Rambo has finished the task he was set - all the ewes appear to be "in lamb" and he has gone home, ignominiously trundled off in the back of a trailer, without a chance to say goodbye. I shall miss him; he was an amiable chap. Expect the girls will miss him too, although when I last looked they were busy eating grass and didn't appear to care.
"Sheep" and "feet" are two words which appear in the same sentence regularly. Make a point of looking next time you pass a field of sheep. Some will be limping and some will be kneeling on their front 'knees' to eat. When they do that their feet are really bad. Today was a sheep and feet day.
The farmer gathered them in with his dog - the one you can see in the header (Tip) and then went in to sort them out. There were three with blue marks which were not ours anyway, so they had to be separated, their owner (our neighbour) had to be contacted and he arrived to bundle them in the back of his Landrover to take them home.
Then every sheep had its feet checked, hooves pared down, antibiotic spray put on and then each one was channelled into the crush to get an injection of worming liquid with added vitamins.
As they went out the other end most of them gave a huge leap into the air then galloped off back into their field. I suppose they felt like I feel when I have been to the chiropodist - walking on air.
Then Rambo, feet freshly manicured, harness removed, made the journey back to Hawes, where he lives, to live The Life of Riley until the Autumn when he gets a chance for his moment of glory again.
The farmer was left to clean up. The pile of sheep poo reminded me that when I was a child my father kept a hessian bag of sheep poo suspended in the outside water butt for watering his tomatoes. Now why doesn't the farmer think of doing that, we might get a really bumper crop.