Here they are again: more than 100 sheep grazing on the huge water meadow. As every year, and not every farmer is delighted at that.
The profession of shepherd has changed a lot.
Once the shepherd was a gnarled loner, with a long loden coat and a big slouch hat on his head leaning at his wooden barren-hut gazing at his sheep, his sidekick, the faithful dog running around to keep the sheep together. Trust me: as a child I saw some of these duos.
When I drove my purchases home, the shepherd, quite youngish, leaned at the hood of his car and stared on his cellphone. He didn't look up. His faithful dog seemed to regret that he hadn't a cellphone either - to him the sheep were too -- sheepish -- so why should he care?
Next morning the sheep had left (an euphemism: they bunked) - "The grass is always greener on the other side" - and show me a weak electrified fence that can keep a stubborn sheep with an intention.
A neighbour of mine came and tried to bring them back - another neighbour telephoned. The shepherd slept in his house in another village, and had taken his faithful dog with him.
And we wonder why so much is heading south?
Baa....
