The sheep weren't grazing. They were arriving.
There was a small temporary pen with a hundred or so sheep and they were passing through a chute, one by one, into a little cage where they were held before being released to trot up the field.
A sheep dog in the back of a truck whined and weaved, watching. Clearly she wanted to help but had been told to stay.
Three men were in with the sheep, directing them to the chute. One at the cage held a single sheep in place before releasing her. He painted red or green or blue paint on her back before she went.
I asked what the paint meant.
The young men looked at me with a mixture of surliness, friendliness and resentment. The friendliness won out. On the whole.
They explained that green meant twin lambs, red meant triplets.
'How do you know?' I asked
I thought some innate shepherding wisdom might allow them to gauge from the fatness of the sheep.
They laughed, 'There's a man in there with an ultrasound!'
'There' was a little tent next to the cage. I hope he was a small man.
But there they were, in the field on a chilly day, scanning the sheep and noting the number of lambs. Presumably blue meant one lamb. I didn't see any blue.
Gotta get your money's worth from every pregnancy.
The other aspect to this sheep movement though was that this estate - and another two nearby - has just this year taken to putting sheep on the arable land in the winter. The sheep eat the nitrogen storing plants that they planted after harvest (the plants fix nitrogen in their root systems) and press down the soil so it doesn't erode. Their droppings will also be a natural fertilizer.
In theory, then, less soil lost by wind and rain and less requirement for chemicals.
Good for the land. As for the sheep, triplets must be hard work and I guess they don't get to stay with them for long. I doubt they all had fun with a ram so basically they are lamb factories. But they get to be in a herd and living outside.
But the fields are bleak arable expanses. There is electric fencing to keep the sheep in specific places - the fields have been arable so long that they have no gates and run straight onto footpaths and driveways. That means no hedges and trees for shelter. Instead of pasture, the fields are rows of kale in muddy till. It can't be exactly cozy.
I think they're young sheep - probably sheep who have twins and triplets all the time manage only a few breeding seasons. None have the insouciance and confidence of old sheep. They have no rams to act as any form of protection. The ones I've seen seem more than usually nervous. I was glad to see one stamp her foot at me and a couple sniff into the tent toward the man with the scanner.
They're still sheep.
I will count them in the hope that I can sleep tonight.
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