Prisoner at the Bar

Yesterday and today we have had a ewe take advantage of the rainy weather to push up the tent pegs used to hold down loose fencing in spots where the workmen did a poor job. She never goes far, but nonetheless these escapades are bad for business and an embarrassment to the firm; besides, her poor example may yet lead others to follow in her sinful wake.

To this end when this morning's feeding proved not only that she was out again but that she was malingering nearby in the hopes of a few stolen mouthfuls from the wheelbarrow, it was decided that this could no longer be permitted. With the aid of our gallant barn kitty Tink, whose curiosity and friendliness towards we farmer-constables knows no bound, the ewe with her own curiosity and unnatural appetites was lured within reach of the shepherd's crook. Tink provided ably with diversion sufficient that the ewe failed to notice the ominous and gradual rise of the crook into position; until it was far too late, the ewe was nabbed, and despite her ignominious struggles, the farmer-constable had her up in arms and over the fence - back in jug, only this time a more secure jug, having been constructed to hold that rebel Mitey and his harem.

The only difficulty then was in identifying her so that she as a former bride of Bolivar could be - and her lambs - identified for who the father of her future children might be. All welfare relief for little lambs must be attributed to the proper parentage; so sayeth the farm bureaucracy, and so sayeth those who hold the annals and records of such deeds and lineages. Thus a mug shot was prepared and is thus provided, and a portion of her number glimpsed - but only glimpsed - and is believed to involve 304, which would mark her as being Isabelle.

She is very much annoyed by Mitey's would-be attentions, and has been sulking even when a farmer shows up to provide sheep with (literally) bread and water; the former as a treat, the latter a matter of refilling and refreshing troughs. She has, however, less outlet for escape in this pasture, and we may hopefully attend to the weak points this weekend with means of security more viable in this wet and windy season than the tent pegs. Thus sayeth the farmer; thus sayeth the prison guard.

As a note to further witness in chance of future escapes (or escapades), Isabelle is notable within her new flocklet for her dark horns and particoloured face. No other ewe in that paddock has that combination, only one other ewe having similarly dark horns but having an unmarked dark face to match. Isabelle has lighter streaks of 'rouge' on either cheek; she is, clearly, a very fast young lady.