The sheep wear jingle bells. They always have, but they were the cheap kind. Pleasant enough, but when I saw these heavy, antique looking bells at the Vermont Country Store with their silvery little tinkles that sounded like the real deal, substantial, but magical, like a music box, I knew I had found the girls' Christmas presents.
Sheep can be hard to catch. Even when they know you. It's hard to overcome that predator response, I guess. When something big comes at you, even when you know it's harmless, you tend to run. So I was surprised when Rachel and I caught the girls to change out their bells they barely protested at all. In fact, Siobhan stood there for the longest time afterwards asking to have her face petted. She's the only one who actually LIKES to be petted. Most days Bronte will follow me back to the gate (even leaving her grain) just to touch my hand with her nose, but she doesn't want to be petted. You never saw anything so funny as her little tail wagging after she performs this little duty and skips back to her grain bucket.
So now when the girls get to tearing around their pasture looking like they're about to practice their take-off they'll sound authentic. And if you hear a tiny jingle some night when you're out walking the dog you'll know . . . they're taking a late night fly-by.