Scandal

Helen, looking smug, just prior to
letting her secret out

Yesterday, Helen was spotted tenderly licking Albie's face in the paddock, when she thought nobody was watching. Her secret is out. She is in love. With Albie.


Today, Helen was spotted with Albie in tow, eating gorse in the neighbour's paddock. Obviously Helen has shared her secret getting-through-the-fence technique with Albie, which means the relationship must be getting serious. Unfortunately Helen omitted to tell Albie how to get back through the boundary fence. Since Helen had to come back through the fence for milking, Albie is now crying nervously beside the fence, because he cannot work out how to get back through.

Helen is having some tether time in the paddock, to think about how mean it was to get Albie stuck on the wrong side of the fence.

Peace and quiet and a happy buck

A nervous herd wondered how they had yet again been
fooled into being penned...

Move over Will and Kate, Albie and Helen have been
spotted together in the same paddock...

Two days ago it was Sheep-drench Sunday. We moved the sheep into the upper paddock, to herd them into the pen. Albie came too, of course, and when Helen heard him (you can't help but hear Albie - for a miniature goat, he has maximum volume) she changed her mind about helping with the herding process. Mr Farmer and Trusty Sidekick helped instead (well, Mr Farmer helped, and Trusty Sidekick lost her composure right at the end and chased the sheep back out of the pen, and was excluded from herding thereafter). The Ride-on Mower looked on from the front lawn, vaguely amused (she has been involved in the herding process before, but Helen got jealous and butted her, so now she just sticks to her main job, which she does with exceptional skill). The sheep finally ran into the pen thanks to some brilliant herding on Mr Farmer's part, and some remarkable restraint on Trusty Sidekick's part. Poor Albie, not being familiar with the sheep mentality of "everybody run in the same direction if someone is chasing you", got stuck in the top-most paddock. He cried. The sheep ignored him - they were too busy worrying, because last time they were in the pen, someone gave them bad haircuts (I disagree with this - the mohawk was so hot last summer). Happily, this trip to the pen only involved a squirt of slightly bitter drench, although the sheep are now upset because the Ride-on Mower popped her head through the fence and told them (with a certain smugness) that her drench tasted like apples.

Clearly, it was only a matter of time before Helen fell prey
to Albie's irresistible charm...

By the time I had let the sheep out into the upper paddock, Albie had worked out how to get back through the fence. He was excited, because he had just remembered that this was where he had last seen Helen. In fact, Helen had spent most of the previous week in the upper paddock - she claims this was because it has better access to the neighbour's paddock (less staples in the boundary fence), but I suspect it was because Albie was with the sheep in the lower paddock. Whilst I admired Albie's optimism, I suspected that Helen would now start using the lower paddock, or just not bother coming back at all.
Albie was right. Helen was waiting impatiently at the gate in the upper paddock on Monday morning. Even so, I suspected she would pop straight back through the fence after milking, but judging by the eery quiet that has descended over the farm, it would appear that she hasn't left the upper paddock since. There is some debate as to the status of their relationship, but sources (the sheep) say that the pair have decided to go their separate ways, but remain "good friends" for the sake of their unborn kid (again, this is only rumour, but judging by the lack of amorous behavior and Helen's subtle but sudden mood swings, there may be some substance to it).

Mr Farmer Gives Up

A sheep could never replace Helen...

November came quicker than did the donations to the East Friesian Ewe Fund. To top it all off, the neighbour's dog hadn't moved out (despite promises), but had continued to develop his taste for lamb. Given the circumstances, we decided that it was best not to invest in $300-a head milking sheep.

The pittosporums were flourishing - Helen had been exceptionally well-behaved, and was still producing lots of milk. The feta recipe had been perfected, and Mr Farmer was still enjoying fresh milk in his coffee. Our fridge was bursting at the seams. Thinking ahead, I began the hunt for a hand-raised, budget-friendly ewe to train to fill Helen's milking role.

The hunt was long and tedious. Female pet sheep are apparently hard to come by. Christmas came, and Helen had to be dried off in preparation for our new year holiday. When we returned, Helen was still producing milk (at a reduced rate), and pet sheep were still in short supply. We resumed milking, and Helen found a nice new home with some sheep in a nearby suburb, which she planned to move into when she dried off properly. We set March as our target date.

March came, and Helen was still producing. In all fairness, neither of us had made much of an effort to dry Helen off. The hunt for a pet sheep was still on, but the prospects were getting slimmer by the day. Finally, after overhearing Helen and I having the "do you think we could train one of the sheep we already have, even though they're not that bright" discussion for the umpteenth time, Mr Farmer gave up.

"Why don't you just get another buck?" He said.

Helen turned to internet dating. She found a good-looking feral buck in Palmerston North, but he already had a wife (Helen's not into polygamy). There were some Saanens in Rotorua, and some strapping bucks in Christchurch, but Helen wasn't sure it would work out. We even found Trevor, back hunting for a new home having split up with his South Auckland girlfriend - but Helen refused to take him back, which was a relief, because he was out of our price range. Just as we were starting to despair, along came a suave pedigree buck named Alberto von Danswan.

Alberto von Danswan, world's neediest goat.

Alberto, a moderately-successful experiment in miniature goat breeding, was looking for a new home having blotted his copy book by making a move on his owner. He didn't appear to have taken the rejection well, and by the time we arrived to pick him up, he was an angry young buck with a tendency to exhibit violent, anti-social behavior (in addition to his repertoire of socially unacceptable buck behaviors). After a struggle, Alberto found himself hog-tied in the back of a ute. You don't mess with Mr Farmer.

Helen was less than impressed when Alberto arrived - she took one look at him, sniffed, and walked off to join the cows. It took Alberto just over a week to work his magic, but by the 14th March, Helen had changed her tune and was affectionately calling him Albie. A brief but passionate affair ensued, but Helen eventually came to her senses, packed her bags, and moved out to live with the cows next door. Apparently, she has more in common with them than with the sheep, because they are all capable of producing milk - plus, she loves the abundant gorse.

Albie hasn't taken the move so well. When Helen isn't in the same paddock as he, Albie cries loudly. When he can't see Helen at all, Albie wails. Helen appears blissfully unaware of Albie's suffering, although I have occasionally heard her muttering things like "just man up, Albie - Trevor would never have made such a fool of himself" when she thinks I'm not listening.