However, the highpoint this time was watching a mixed flock of sheep and goats, accompanied by two sheepdogs, traverse the hillside without any human involvement at all. The chief dog and the chief goat both visibly obeyed the bellweather sheep. It was a fantastic demonstration of group dynamics. Every animal played its part.
The dogs just wanted to look as if they were in charge. Though they looked tough, even menacing, they couldn't actually eat any of the scrub, but knew they would be rewarded at the end of the day, if they brought the flock back. Just like the fuzz, really, running dogs of capitalism.
The goats could eat anything, but were vulnerable, and knew they were on sufferance, and had to stick with the sheep, but being agile, could scout out and identify for the rest of the flock the tasty tufts. They looked very, very edible already... Goat is good!
The sheep knew that they were the real reason for being there, and had complete and justified confidence in the bellweather, who was a tough old grandma. The various, magnificently horned but probably useless rams all wore a distinctly unsexy thick rubber skirt, which seemed to serve a dual function, both to protect their rather obviously exposed, oversized equipment from the thorns, and to prevent them from getting any ideas about mounting the ewes, the nanny goats or even the other rams.
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