What I've been trying not to think about this week:
- Tups' love life.
I'm pretty used to strange lunchtime conversations. There are often updates on hatches and dispatches, machinery issues and what jobs are coming up later that day. I think Ivie finds my job updates quite boring in comparison.
Today, Ivie casually mentioned that they'd been getting the tups ready. My basic knowledge told me that this was them getting smartened up for their big dates.
I can't decide if they live the life of Riley or a bit of a dull existence. One way of looking at it is that they get free bed and board for 46 weeks of the year in return for six weeks' 'work'; the other is that they wander around a field for 46 weeks and only get a month and a half to play.
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| My mum's not sure who my Dad is. |
I wondered aloud what getting them ready actually entailed.
Ivie: we check their teeth.
Me: what, do they get their teeth cleaned ready to impress the ladeez?
Ivie: sigh. No.
Me: what else do you do?
Ivie: check their feet.
Me: so they can chase the lucky gals?
Ivie: sort of.
Me: do they get a wee scoosh of Lynx Africa?
Ivie: Naw!
It turns out that they get two weeks to chase them around and bring them into season, the ewes shake their bums and then about 4 seconds later it's all over and done with. There are two tups per field of 50 ewes and apparently that's plenty to be getting along with.
I then wondered aloud if this knowledge informed Ivie's teens and 20s till someone told him it wasn't like this for humans. Guffaw.
Meantime, I'm sure the ewes are all discussing the latest fleece-styles and how to lose the lockdown lard. Or is that just me?
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| Here Doreen, is that one of thon Brazilians? |
