“You have to let them jump,” Ian said, as he held onto Robin who was bucking like a bronco. In my ten years of having my sheep sheared, I’ve never seen a show like Robin put on. It only lasted twenty seconds or so, all that hopping around, then Ian easily got Robin in that submissive sheep position on his back.
Not that Robin didn’t keep trying, he squirmed and wiggled even more than Constance.
But then it was his first time being sheared. No one had ever tried to hold onto him or hold him down before.
Afterward, Liam, who had also been shorn, gave Robin the once over. The sheep don’t recognize each other after being shorn, so they smell each other to get reacquainted.
For the first time in months, I was able to see Robin’s face again. And he looked to me like the little lamb that I found standing in the barnyard on that cold spring day when he was born.
Even without his wooly locks, Robin is easy to recognize because of that look in his eye.
