Ewe's fat.

I had to find a new shearer - and fast.  I ended up with a young fellow I had used when I first had my sheep.  He had come with his young son - toddler-sized - and was really nice.  Then I was lured by the romance of blade-shearing and got hooked up with the eminent blade shearer in the US, who lives in Massachusetts.  This has worked beautifully for the past four years.  But, we've had a hitch.  The fact that I now have only two sheep, and they're Icelandics, and my shearer is not on 'my' side of Massachusetts has resulted in his reluctance to drive out to shear my two puny sheep.  He had kept putting it off and we were now looking at June.  Well, let me tell you, it is hot as aitch-double-hockey-sticks under their 10 pounds of double-fleeced Icelandic locks. 

So I dug up Joe's number and gave him a jingle this weekend.  And he called me back!  (That's another thing that puts a kink in my knickers - the not-calling-back thing.)  As luck would have it, he was heading in my direction yesterday morning, and would be happy to oblige.  That did send me scrambling to reschedule some conference calls, but that was done and the sheep were subsequently locked in the run-in shed Monday morning.

Joe showed up with his new sidekick - Jaime, an adorable Australian Shepherd (his son was in kindergarten, the cutie) and he got down to business.  I would have taken pictures of the process, but I was missing minions (ain't that always the case?) and had to make sure Linden didn't ram his way out while Juno got her haircut.  Another bonus of shearing is that I am guaranteed another pair of hands - so hooves were trimmed and vacs and wormer were administered.

Not one to hold a grudge, Juno managed to take Joe's hat off a few times, and was generally in the way.  He has a nice way about sheep and remarked that mine were unusually 'friendly'.  She was probably checking him out for graham crackers.

Whoa!  Open both doors of the barn!

Juno is harder to "capture" because of her color.
Just look at Mr. Chubbo on the left and think "black".

But, what a surprise!  Not all that was 'fluffy' was wool!  Hoooweee, there are some chublets in the paddock!  I felt slightly better when Joe told me of the Babydoll Southdowns he had done the day before.  Rolls and rolls of 'fluff'.  Apria reacted with shock - where were her sheep?!?  These odd-looking porkpies couldn't be 'her' sheep?   (I was going to add the "Before" pic, but realized it's on my phone.  Which is on my dining room table.  Which is at home, where I'm not.  I will add it later; promise.)

I'm still not convinced they are not aliens.
And don't even think about shearing me.

 Chickie was emboldened by the diminished stature of Juno and renewed his posturing on his side of the fence.  Who needs television with this show?

(And, yes, the goats came home on Saturday - I'm saving that much cuteness for another post.)