...since I wrote about the sheep. That's because we've been busy with the bees.
Last weekend P and I had been up to Rosendal to install the new hive. We drove because it's too far to walk in sweaty bee-suits. When we got back, I was bent over double trying to extract myself from my suit and who should I spot right behind me, starring (that's a give-away) but Elisa and three others in tow.
They are so funny. Any other escapee would make a dash for the long grass in the field, or the reeds down by the lake, or make a quick exit right up the road. But sheep...? No. The first thing they do is come and tell you they have escaped.
And, the rest of the flock had gone bananas anyway, screaming something like "she's out, mamma's gone and left us, baa baa baa, OMG what should we do baa baa baa", poor dear she wouldn't have got far.
So, P and I shot into crisis management mode, ie: the breaking of the bread. Into the bucket. No need for dogs, whistles or neighbourly reinforcements... all you need is a stale loaf. Game over.