My first pet sheep is twelve years old this month. Growing up, Suckie has been a constant. To celebrate the occasion, I brought Suckie down from the field to the yard for a nice, big bucket of nuts.
Suckie waited (im)patiently outside the lambing shed for her nuts to be delivered.
But doing anything with sheep rarely goes according to plan. Honey and Bob had insisted on tagging along, and were currently sampling the ivy off the wall.
Suckie was not very impressed. (I think. She just has that sort of a face.)
Bob had never wandered the yard before and was very interested in everything.
Once I opened the door to the lambing shed, there was carnage.
Suckie led the charge, demolishing a pile of thankfully-empty yellow buckets in search of nuts within.
Honey and Bob were easily influenced when it came to this.
The "normal" sheep looked on in confusion.
Bob posing by the tractor.
Bob said hello to a ewe through the door.
While Honey paraded for her adoring fans.
Suckie still did not look much impressed.
Then Honey noticed that these are the two barrels which her milk was made on when she was a lamb.
Suckie was not impressed.
Honey paraded for her adoring fans once more by popular demand.
Leaving the lambing shed, we walked through the lower yard and into the field.
Young and old.
Yes, grass was okay, but where was her bucket of nuts?
Honey was mingling.
I spotted trouble. A lamb was on the wrong side of the fence from his mother.
I chased him along the fence to the gate while Honey and Bob kept mummy calm.
Reunited, mother and son ran off.
Suckie was perhaps mildly impressed.
She was approached by a fan.
Meanwhile, Bob couldn't mingle because he was scaring the ewes with his unusual appearance.
Both Honey and Bob have perfected the over-the-shoulder look.
A little later, with the two youngsters returned to the field, Suckie was finally able to relax with her head buried in a yellow bucket full of nuts.
It's her favourite place in the whole world.