Here, for #5, is a photo of my second worst "oops" moment. My worst "oops" moment had something to do with whirling and bolting headlong and heedless down the road for a good 55 yards due to the approach of motorcyclist. There was—thank goodness—no camera.
My second worst "oops" moment involved mistaking a ewe for a terrorist. Here's is some of my original post on the subject:
Sheep=growers of bountiful fleece, right? They must be cute, and tender, and clean, and gentle . . .
Please note the focus and determination with which I continued my prolonged assessment of the Suicide Bomber Goat—erm, sheep. If you have read my important treatise on the F.E.A.R.R. system for preservation of life and limb (look it up if you haven't) then you'll understand the importance of taking one's time with this business. My assessment went on for, we shall say, about eight minutes.
Next, you see the exhaustion into which I fell after the immediate threat of Death and Dismemberment had passed. Once I decided to go ahead and give the all clear, I cocked a hind leg and had a good long rest next to those sheep. FarmWife let the dogs pee. All was well.
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