Butt butted from Behind.

Well the farm was under eight inches of snow today, a veritable Christmas card. I could just imagine baby Jesus in with the sheep and goats. And thanks to the snow no shit shovelling, it seems to magically absorb shit like cat litter. But the needs of the other end never stop so silage all round. As I noticed silage goes mouldy in its compressed state I teased it out into a wonderfully light soufflé of candyfloss and filled the cow racks. Though delighted the cows demolished it in minutes so back to piling it high. On to the sheep. Now sheep tend to stand and look at me like I’m a Church of England choir master or, if I make advances, run around in panic like a group of Cheltenham spinsters on holiday in San Fransisco. Except in this case for one that I later learned was a French Charollais, very friendly and intelligent looking for a sheep. He followed me around eager for a pat and a chat as I filled their rack. Obviously sheep can’t smile but I sensed in his face an affable knowing camaraderie. I carried on teasing the silage into their rack. Until that is I was violently butt butted from behind, the bastard! I turned to see the same affable expression. Chris later apologised for not telling me the reason why one sheep was different from the rest and why I shouldn’t turn my back on it. It was a Charollais ram in with the ewes and it was shag time in sheep land. So it wasn’t friendly camaraderie it was French for, “Zea is no room pour vu wis my ladies, you filty English scum.” I tell you, never trust the French.