At least, somewhat.
Matt and I introduced the sheep to their new quarters last week, and it wasn’t quite the warm reception we had hoped for. The sheep walked around, ate up their bribe-grain, and turned to us.
“So you’re saying that this is it, eh?” Their baa’s seemed to say.
“Yes,” we replied.
“We’ll see about that” said Agnes, and the next morning she awaited me beside the barn. She showed me the nice hole she had ripped in the side, presumably itching herself there until the fabric gave under duress.
“That’s how I got out. Right there. Here’s Bobolink. She’ll show you what I did.” Agnes looked me in the eye as Bobolink rather pointedly exited the barn through the tear.
Thus began a battle of wits that has involved no less than three escapes, one call from the neighbors and one gift of a chicken for Jim and Lucy for helping with the roundup.
Matt and I made several large repairs, and then installed some fence posts deep in the ground to stabilize the barn overall. These posts also gave Agnes a way to satiate her itch, so she wasn’t so driven to wear her wool away on the metal supports of the barn.
Sheep can be so naughty sometimes.