It’s Morning, in our year, and Morning in this photograph: the ewes and lambs have had their morning graze and done some nursing, and they’ve found some shade. The dogs, three now, have made sure and secure of the pasture and have gone to the high ground, the better to view their surroundings, and as it happens to be with their flock. Flora, to the left, and Tibbie, now almost full grown to the right, are looking sleepy: time for a Springtime snooze.
Fife, at twenty pounds, is one day shy of three months old. He’s at work. What is going on, he’s thinking, I should be alert. He’s not copying his Aunts. He’s generating all this himself.
He’s mindful of his Aunts, of course. Among other things, they weigh four times what he does and can tumble him over and over whenever they decide to do so. They take him with them when they make their rounds, and he’s learned to add his voice when more volume is necessary.
When the Aunts are having their suppers, they chide him for thinking that he can join in. Fife lies right down, just out of range, and barks back.
The lambs can outrun him so his best playmate is Aunt Tibbie. After supper, before sunset, she shows him some moves and when she’s done, Flora takes a turn. They’re as pleased to have him as we are. And of course, it being Morning, we have the three bottle lambs, the twenty other lambs, and the five kittens on the porch.
It’s enough to tire a puppy out.
© Jerry Wigglesworth, May 2014