The neighbours are always busy moving sheep around at this time of year—there’s shearing, lambing, tailing…sheep being shifted from paddock to paddock for all sorts of reasons. Nearly every day a mob or two pass the front gate.
Even if I don’t see them pass, I can always tell when sheep have been by, because the road is sprinkled with sheep pellets afterwards.
But yesterday, a sheep left a bit more than poo at our gate.
You know you live in rural New Zealand when…
Special prize to you if you know what this is. I’ll give you the answer tomorrow.