Midnight Lamb Patrol: Mud, Mayhem, and Buster’s Disbelief

Ah, spring lambs – the idyllic image of joy, right? There’s nothing quite like watching them prance and play in the fields, tails wagging, full of energy. But let’s get real here. While everyone’s sipping tea, cooing over these little bundles of fluff, there's me, my dad, and Buster the sheepdog, gearing up for the real fun part: getting up three times during the freezing night to check on them. “How lovely,” I mutter at 2 a.m., wrapped in five layers, while Buster gives me his classic "Seriously, mate?" look.

So, picture this: you’re already half asleep, stumbling through the dark with a flashlight that barely works, when you realise that one lamb’s decided to have a late-night adventure. Now it’s 3 a.m., and I’m chasing a rogue lamb that’s developed Olympic sprinting abilities, while Buster just sits there, clearly thinking, "This wasn’t in my job description."

And then there’s the joy of realising the water trough has somehow frozen solid again, and you get to play the delightful game of smashing it open with a shovel while Dad insists he’s got a “system” for this. Meanwhile, the lambs are having a dance party on the far side of the field, oblivious to the chaos around them.

Or even better, when you misjudge the footing and find yourself face-first in a ditch, with a flashlight clutched in one hand and a stubborn lamb in the other, trying to salvage both your dignity and your boots from the mud. The lamb’s expression? Pure indifference.

By 5 a.m., when the sun finally decides to make an appearance, and we’ve dragged ourselves back inside, Buster's given up on us entirely and claimed the best spot in front of the fireplace. But sure, spring lambs – absolutely adorable… until it’s your turn to be the midnight sheep patrol.