Location: Monmouth, Maine
The struggle continues. The north-western corner of the pasture is weak. I have been in trenches several times this week, attempting to fix the problem. But the little sheep always finds a way to get out.
Always. Finds. A. Way.
And then the little bastard leads the rest of them out.
We aren’t even gaining. No matter what I do, Sawyer finds a way out. And no matter how much I encourage Jackson to do his job, he just stands there, staring at the sheep as they march single-file right off the battlefield and into the horse territory.
Ok, but for real. I can’t get the fence fixed enough in ONE bloody corner to keep Sawyer in. He just looks at me, goes, “Psh, challenge accepted, human-beast,” and then pushes right through it.
HE WEIGHS LIKE FORTY POUNDS HOW IS HE DOING THIS?!
The real question is, why do the rest of them have to follow? They just traipse right out of the pasture, directly into the horse pasture, and then into the neighbor’s yard.
So they are currently banished to the doubly-reenforced back pasture, where there is nothing for them to graze. They are just sitting in the back pasture, contemplating – do doubt- how to get out.