Let me explain. The lambs have be separated from their mum - arr, poor things - a few days ago. The boys having been promoted to the ranks of castrati - ouch! - some time earlier. Now it was time to separate the sexes. Not that they would start breeding like rabbits, what with them being sheep and some of them being foresaid castrati - my knees are weak even thinking about it. No, it's the difference between a career in the Chop and Roast Leg business and a lifetime of pleasure as a mummy of Randy The Ram's offspring. Incidently, the maternal career also ends in at bottom end of the Chop and Roat Leg department.
You can imagine that it's a bit tedious for a farmer to have to up-end individuals to see who's who, which is what and what's missing. The solution is simple; ear tag. Two blue for a girl and one green for a boy.
The dogs did a wonderful job gathering the flock and we drove the woolies across the field into the farm yard. Into the pens and let the ear peirceing begin!
The boys and girls ended up both separated into different fields and proudly boasting of their new decorations; "Barr, I'm a New Age Goth. Yeh, their plastic and all the rage at the slaughter house."
We enlighten beings gathered ourselves back to the cottage. Kettle on. Tea served. Toasting a job well done. "By gum, the weather were grand and them dogs got into them woolies like they were born to it. Mecks yer glad to be alive and no mistake!" What's fo dinner? Why, roast lamb with mint sauce. What else?