We had our sheep shorn today.
After a stinking hot day yesterday, and our girls stood around panting in the shade with heavy wool on, we decided they needed a trip to the hairdresser. The weather report for New Year's Eve is 41 degrees celcius, which is too hot for woolly jumpers on.
Our normal fellow was apparently too busy to come until February, so we rang up a local man who agreed to do them the next day if we took them to him.
Our facilities leave a lot to be desired, but after some dramas involving a lot of baaing and wrestling huge woolly gals, the mums were unceremoniously piled onto the trailer, leaving the confused babies in the makeshift yard.
'Weeksie', the only ewe with horns, managed to poke a whole in my man's arm, which pleased him no end.
At the other end, more wrestling was required as they were manhandled off the trailer and shorn one by one.
Burghard is a shy, gentle man, who is also a beekeeper, and supplied our first beehive to us. As we came down his driveway, we could see rows of bee boxes on our left.
Our trailer was not set up to connect neatly to the sheep race, but we managed to back it closely to the edge for the girls to jump down.
Back home, the babies were still confused and bereft, and so were the mums, with all baaing hysterically at each other.
Because we only have a 6 x 4 trailer, the lambies had to stay home but still needed bottoms tidied up, so I got the dog clippers out and crutched them all before setting them free. Far simpler!
Finally together again, the lambs didn't recognise their mums because they looked so different, and smelled of the antiseptic spray put onto their nicks. They all ran around desperately calling; hearing their mums answer, but where were they?
All sounds quiet now, so I hope they're all lying down in the shade (now do we need to worry about sunburn?), unwinding after an exciting morning.