Precipice: Menaced by Manic Maternal Mutton!


It is pissing down, and damply unpleasant, today, the kind of grim, grey weather I loathe with a passion and which causes my mood to plummet like a cement-encased corpse.

So, having done a Tesco, with my canine companion lurking miserably in the Peppy Polo (my car, not a freakishly large packet of mint-flavoured crunchy holes!), I decided that a walk up parts of the Tor would do us both the world of good.

The dreary incontinence without almost persuaded me to remain in the dry but, clipping on Jumble’s lead, I approached the turn-stile type gate and, having briefly shut the dog on the other side, surveyed the scene before me.

My first comment was, ‘Oh shit!’

Truly, a double-edged curse, that one, because, before me and as far as the eye could see, was a flock, nay a flotilla, of ewes, lambs and, not to put too fine a point upon it, poo. This, of course, meant that I could not let Jumble off for a good old run – well, a slow amble, in his case – because he is a border collie and chasing sheep, rounding the buggers up and ‘encouraging’ them to slip through life’s gates is part of the breed’s DNA.

Somewhat hacked off, I started to walk over the turd-strewn sward, aiming to avoid small sheep and large faecal piles – a delicate balancing act, if you think about it.

I still, at this stage, had it in mind to stride to the top of the field and attempt at least the bottom of the Tor, but my plans were foiled in a most unexpected way.

The woolly ones were not overjoyed to see us, and many a ma pulled her cute offspring out of our way, with a melange of disgruntled looks.

I carried on regardless, until…


…enter JabberSheep!

Or, to put it another way, a particularly stroppy ovine (with a disgustingly rank posterior), took serious umbrage, skittered threateningly into the middle of the path – and, when I kept coming, first made a most sinister and gutteral hissing noise in her throat (sounded like a seriously displeased swan!) and then stamped a hoof in warning before giving a very creditable impression of a bull in imminent danger of charging mode.

Now, I could, of course, have stood my ground – but, what with the slimy conditions underfoot and, as far as I could see, no way of falling without incurring the deeply unpleasant Wrath of the Whoopsies, I couldn’t see us advancing intact a further centimetre; and, besides, I was a tad averse to being savaged by a pissed-off sheep, no matter how righteous her cause.

So, I beat a hasty retreat!


This has certainly been a week rich in nature’s tooth and claw, not to mention dung and dudgeon…

25 thoughts on “Precipice: Menaced by Manic Maternal Mutton!

  1. Pingback: Writing, writing, writing…ok, I’m hungry now… | The Consulting Writer

    1. So glad you liked it, Elizabeth – and well spotted on the sheep front: I’d love to claim it was the actual Egregious Ewe I saw, but that would be a lie; I grabbed the photo from Google Images! x


  2. Lol….I once was ” rammed” by a rather large male ovine. I was bending over to put the lead on my dog when I suddenly found myself six feet further on, involuntarily, in a crumpled heap! Culprit? Bloody great Herwick ram! The ram then was practically on top of me, eyeballing in a menacing manner, breathing and snorting heavily. It did butt me again but I grabbed the rather impressive curly horns whereupon a tug of war ensued. Ram won and Dean sauntered off. I thought sauntering rather than ” running like fucking hell” would mean the bugger would leave me alone. Thankfully it worked and it decided to go in dog’s direction who was this side of the field gate and looking decidedly concerned it was the rams next victim. However, she managed to squeeze under and we were eventually reunited. Looking back was Mr Ram looking satisfied he’d done a pretty good job of seeing us off. Baaaa! 😜😆🐑🐑🐑

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Absolutely hilarious, Dean – and proof that my instinct in avoiding said scrofulous ewe was bang on the nail. Reminds me of the wonderful, and badly spelled, notice on a gate near Congresbury, warning all and sundry about ‘…the bad-temperd ram…’xxx


    2. Running Elk

      Well played! The casual saunter. Highly recommended after a rodgering from a ram… The buggers assume you want to keep on playing if you are diving every which way, arms flailing, shouting “Close the gate!! Close the gate!!”.
      Hillwalkers… gotta love them… I miss ’em, you know… 😉 Sure me old dad put the rams in that field deliberately to keep the buggers out! lol

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Running Elk

    Well! That brought back memories.
    We had an “ole bitch” that would take your feet from under you every spring, if you weren’t careful. The take down was painful enough, but the wooly mauling that came after… don’t even want to think about it… pointy hooves and privates don’t mix!!
    Duck and roll!! Duck and roll!!

    Liked by 2 people

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