It's not as if we have a huge flock to herd around. I mean - it's only two sheep! How hard can that be?
Hmmm - with zero shepherding experience between us - okay, John had a summer holiday job on a hill farm in 1971 but .... the nearest we normally get to our pair of lovely ladies is shown above.
Sometimes, though, you have to get a bit closer - feet have to be inspected, drenches have to be given, and fleeces have to be sheared. So, after several months of a semi-wild existence, it was time get them used to being herded and handled.
But we came two or three times a day, with our red barley bucket, left it in the same place, and departed - no pressure girls. And pretty soon, they came running up when we climbed the fence, and happily tucked in. Always Maddie Mor first - sussing out the menu, then stepping back to allow Maddie Beag a taste.
Once they were happy with these arrangement, we introduced a set of hurdles - very cunning. But they seemed to accept these new additions to the field decor, and ignored them. Success - now it was time for some action! A liver fluke drench has to be given at this time of year, so on Monday morning we headed down to the croft with a dosing gun and a determined air.
Merrily they came trotting up and soon busied themselves in the barley. Softly, softly we closed the gate. They looked up, concerned, and started to look around for the way out. We looked at each other nervously with a "What do we do now?" expression (you can't see that in the shadow, but I'm sure you can imagine).
"We can do this - we are health professionals" said the bold John, as he louped the fence and tried to catch hold of what were now white blurry streaks whirling round and round the pen. I stood by helplessly waving the syringe around, waiting...
And they are still talking to us, so no hard feelings. Aren't they gorgeous girls?