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....is exactly what I'm saying as I face twenty five pairs of beady eyes and perked ears. As much as I'd hate to admit it I think that the Virgin Mary would be the ONLY person that could make these sheep behave!

What makes matters soooooo difficult is that the entire flock knows that I know that they know I have no idea what I'm doing. As a firefighter in Alaska I have faced roaring flames and pushed myself onward through the danger. But this? This is a different story! Now I stood a very good chance of being mowed down by twenty five of the fattest burliest sheep on the Planet - and my guts sank into the vicinity of my knees as I faced off with the critters.

I had already been at the mercy of the flock - just a few seconds ago I had rushed headlong at the fat wooly beasts thinking, "Bah! Sheep are cute and stupid. I'll just chase them to the other side of the pen." Well, I guess the sheep had no idea that they were supposed to be cute and stupid because they didn't act accordingly! Instead, as I pounced at a sheep and grabbed two great handfulls of wool the animal bolted and towed me across the pen as if I were water skiing on a lake. The entire flock exploded with fright and leapt at me as one while I stood there with my mouth gaping and my hands clutching the backside of the galloping ovine. I released my quarry and tried to run for my life! I think I may have shrieked as a pair of sharp cloven hooves flew by me level with my ear! I have never in all of my travels seen an animal jump so high from a dead standstill as a sheep! BOING! SPRING! As high as my head they went - their own hard little heads aimed for a spot right between my eyes. I dodged left! I dodged right! I ducked and prayed for a swift and merciful end. Then...all was quiet. As I huddled in a ball at one end of the pen I carefully peeked around behind me.

There they stood. Silent. Watching. Me. Twenty five pairs of beady eyes and perked ears were aimed directly at me. They seemed to be saying, "You want a piece of us, huh? You're not so tough are you? Come on - why don't you try that again? Cute and stupid did you say??"

What a few seconds ago had been a quiet pen of adorable cud-chewing sheep had turned into my worst nightmare. And as far as I knew I had no way out! They huddled at one end of the pen ready to explode into action at my slightest movement. My injured ankle began to throb and I knew that I could not crouch there for much longer... (I had injured it in Alaska, not here with the sheep.)

...and I probably would have met my demise if my handsome Orcadian husband had not walked through the door at that precise moment! My champion! My knight! My very own Lancelot! I WAS SAVED!!

And I was also utterly humiliated. My husband's eyes danced with amusement as he took in the sitiuation at one knowing glance.

"I uh...was inspecting the slats(slatted floor of the barn) to make sure they are uh...still in good condition." I muttered as I stood up and brushed the dirt off of my clothes.

Erlend had raised sheep most of his life. He nimbly jumped up and over the gate, goat-like, and pounced on a sheep. In a matter of seconds (and with some sleight-of-hand) he soon had her perched up on her rump and looking slightly baffled as she sat there with her hooves sticking out before her. I stared at my husband with a growing sense of awe. He released the sheep and then showed me how he had captured the beast and sat her on her rump. He grasped her muzzle in one hand, placed her hip against his leg and then with a swift movement he jerked his leg back and turned the sheep's head towards her ribs so that she flopped down and ended up on her rear end. Her back was against his legs and her head nestled against his waist and there she sat in a rather subdued stupor. Erlend was panting a bit though and told me with a laugh that the sheep were a crazy mix: they had the short Texel necks and the size and weight of the Cheviot! He had raised Shetland cross sheep which were much smaller and easier to tackle!

The sheep had changed their tune and now stood in a tight huddle at the other end of the pen eyeing Erlend with a mixture of fear and respect. You could see that they had sized him up and declared him Boss Baa. There was no way he was going to do something as utterly insane as grab a galloping sheep by the bum and dive into the midst of the flock! Noooooo noooo nooooo, he knew far better then that. They looked between me and him and I could see that the battle lines had been drawn: the female human was a dunce but the male...well, he was worthy of the flock considering him as intelligent and therefore someone to be reckoned with.

I realized right then and there that I had to win the sheep over though means that did not requre brute force or sheep wrangling skills. As Erlend caught the sheep one by one and inspected their hooves (foot rot aarrg!!) I wracked my brain for a plan. How could I gain respect and admiration from these crafty rascals?? There was no way I could fling myself at them like a puma while my ankle was still injured and throbbing. What could I do??

Ah....food! Animals live for food. I would win the little buggers over with a bucket full of grain. Every day I would march into the byre (barn) and rattle a bucket of grain until I had them, if not eating out of my hand, at least running to me with expectant faces!

"Hey Erlend" I said as my husband dove on yet another sheep and sat her up on her bum.

"Yeah..." he grunted as he inspected another hoof tainted with that dread disease hoof rot. He grumbled and shook his head.

"Do you mind if we keep the sheep inside for two weeks so I can tame them down with grain?" My husband stared at me like I was loco. Then he shook his head indulgently.

"Yeah sure, babe." he said. "We are going to need to keep them in any way because they have foot rot."

"What's that?" I asked.

Ah. Ignorance is bliss.