I came home, after having been gone since 9am, to be greeted at the back door by kittens, who had alerted to my voice outside. They were loose in the house, with Whiskey, Kestrel, Whoopi, Jack, and Brick all loose as well. Everyone seems fine, hot, but just fine, and I'm sure the kittens got plenty of explore time in. Ah well. Not exactly the test you want on your dog pack, but luckily the shelties did just fine.
Later, I go check on the flock, and one of the twin ewes, the red one that has been rather wierd looking from the start, and seemed to be rather heat sensitive and not any good for herding ( never used her, she'd pant waaay before the other sheep) and who I was so suspect of that I wasn't going to sell her or use her for herding, just for meat, maybe - well, she was dead. I had the whole pack with me, so they followed me as I carried her half way up to the house and then they came up the rest of the way to the house with me. Except for Brick, who is down there in the clearing lying next to the body, guarding it. He's pretty feral, so I suspect that this is his "I know this is a potential food source, so I'm going to wait here until I get permission to eat it" rather than any nurturing guarding that he might do on a live animal.
Dogs are complicated. Tiny kittens, safe. Dead lamb, food. I fervently hope I can keep this in my lines - so important to have the prey and the nurture, the hunting and herding, and that touch of real original dog.
So here the kittehs are, getting themselves coated in yougurt, seameal, kibble, and canned food, to later share with me and my keyboard.
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