The sheep love the hills and the ferns. Overjoyed one might say.
Things were going well, until the polar vortex and I lost the smallest of the four. Then yesterday the boys ran off three dogs. They had torn up the smallest of the three remaining sheep.
Now I get to go talk to the neighbor about her dogs. Does one bring baked goods when bringing news that you will have to shoot their dogs? Or chocolate?
We will have to kill the sheep they attacked. Don't want her to suffer. But that means I am down to two sheep. Wonder how long they will survive.