He is content to graze near the newly emerging daffodils that line the rock wall.
He is, at heart, a simple soul. Modest and unassuming.
Yet there are times when he stands amid the daffodils and thinks deep thoughts.
Along with the rest of the flock, he has endured the long months of winter. Now he sometimes takes his ease, and lies down on beds of flowers.
How we shall miss The Major.
A dark-eyed junco made a flying house call.
Actually, many song sparrows and juncos spent the day settling in after their long trip back to the island. They twittered about unpacking their bags and checking out the menu at local diner (which is the same menu as last year).
The sheep came by to greet the returning birds.
Blake and Ashley came by. They brought lobster from Blake's dad Skipper, and stayed for a visit. Later Skipper himself came by, with mussels and eggs. We really don't need to go to the store.
At the end of the day Greg sat in his favourite place and appreciated the beginning of spring.
I'm very glad to see that Nova Scotia island sheep are getting the recognition they deserve, and of course the intrepid shepherds! To read everything about sheep and shepherding on McNutt's Island, go to the label "wild island sheep."
There are about twenty of them, though the numbers mysteriously vary a bit from time to time. They are the cove flock that stays along the point and the ruins south of the point, and comes up along the shore of the cove. 
They are finding something to nibble on amongst all this winterized grass.
This is a yearling, which is called a hogget. Leroy says the rams do not impregnate hoggets. I suppose the hoggets do not yet ovulate or give off hormone scents.
You can certainly see the effect of having The Major on the island for the past two years. There are many more young sheep with Scottish Blackface characteristics. 
Their lovely long wool must be a huge help in withstanding the harshness of winter. Which may possibly be gradually coming to a close, ever so slightly, maybe. 
But here's how the cove shore looked a couple of days ago.
I know you cannot see these sheep out on the point, at least without a magnifying glass. But there are about twenty of them out there, eating their favourite food, kelp.
Another view of the point and the cove, and the old skiff.
It's a pastoral scene if ever there was one.
Eventually they will get up and begin to graze again, or decide to amble on down the shore toward some other place where, perhaps, the grass is greener.
For now, though, they are content.
It marks the boundary of the original Lot 1. I wonder whether there are other boundary rocks on the island.
The boundary rock is in the foreground. North of it is the shore line that was a part of Lot 1. The first grantee, Moses Pitcher, sold this lot to Shelburne merchant George Ross in 1787. Ross owned it for about thirty years. A few days before he died, in 1816, he sold it to Dorcas Thomson, who was the wife of his business partner. There was a landing here called, not surprisingly, Ross's Landing.
I was gawking over the rock when I glimpsed the tiniest movement in the nearby woods. The sheep stand very still like statues and hope you don't see them.
They become ghost sheep.
Then when they think you are not looking they melt away and come out in another place entirely, looking remarkably like the stones along the shore. The magical properties of sheep are not widely recognized.
Since I began by walking along the shore, I took the more civilized path homeward, along the lower road. Still, you never know who you'll meet. I heard some deer warning each other to fly away. A raven sailed through the forest with an urgent message but it wasn't for me.
Witch's Butter. Mmmm. Looks delicious.
Looking north I could see Sandy Point Lighthouse in the distance, as well as some houses near it on the mainland. The sun was just shining on them. I love the look of the sky in this picture. 
Looking south I saw a lobster boat tied up at Mark and Patsy's camp.
Later, off she went. Probably going on a carrot run. You can never have too many.
The tide was very high.
A lovely little mushroom of some sort, loving this weather .
Rose hips against a skeleton forest.
The skeleton forest in all its glory.
About a dozen sheep were out on the point eating kelp. They love it when a storm pulls kelp from the ocean floor and pours it out along the cobble beach.
The bog, meanwhile, is showing off its prettiest colours.
Last year Leroy explained to me that I had used the word culling too broadly. "We harvest the lambs," he said, "and we cull the ewes." He and Mary were pleased that their more extensive culling and harvesting a year ago seemed to bear fruit this year. It was a smaller flock that overwintered, and so the new lambs are bigger. (There are other factors to consider too, like the weather and how devoted the rams are to their purpose in life, which is not after all to laze about and eat birdseed. The size of the flock is the easiest factor to control, though. A smaller flock will have more to graze on.)
The d'Entremonts continued to winnow down the flock this fall.
The goal is gradually to increase the overall size and condition of the fall harvest lambs by leaving only the healthiest and most productive ewes on the island and by continuing to introduce Scottish Blackface traits.
Yes, the lambs are adorable. Especially when they look at you in that soulful way of theirs.
But sheep raising is a business, and raising wild sheep on the islands is a particularly traditional form of it.
It's hard work, and it involves a lot of risk, and many years of patient investment.
I don't know if anybody else is doing it on these offshore islands except Leroy and Mary. It's an important and endangered part of Nova Scotia's heritage and culture, and so the flock of wild sheep on McNutt's is really a benefit to the whole province.
He sits unmoving on a rock in the middle of the water.
The island is peaceful after the strong winds of the past few days.
The sheep pen is quiet this evening, too. It's almost always serene like this, except for a few days every year when it is a place of intense activity.
.gif)
