In their thick fleecy coats, they seem not to mind the flurrying snow, and today's just-below-freezing temperature may seem balmy compared to the often bitter cold of winter. If the wind gets too strong they will head inland, with a minimum of fuss, to seek the protection of the forest. But for now they appear tranquil, as they usually do. Very little in life seems to bother the sheep.
Yesterday the local flock of about nineteen was back around the house, nibbling away. They spent the night behind the vegetable garden. Then this morning they headed down past the fish house, returning to the point via their cove shore route.
The black faced ram is still with our local flock. Greg has named him The Major because he is the very model of a modern major general. Today he is lying down near the sea's edge, a little removed from his group, looking quite dignified. He is always dignified, and imposing. We think the girls actually run the show, but allow him to assume that he is in charge.
The ewes are almost half way through their pregnancies, which commenced soon after Leroy and Arnold released The Major and his brother rams on December 21st. "Five months minus five days," Arnold reminded us then. So we will see the new lambs around mid-May.
The ordinary behaviour of wild sheep on one of Nova Scotia's sheep islands is not observed or reported very often anymore, I think. Now their presence is so much a part of our lives here that we sometimes forget how fortunate we are to be able to watch them, and what an unusual experience it is to have these calm and woolly neighbours who manage quite well for themselves.
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