Yesterday I glimpsed a too-near-the-house flash of wool-white as I stood in my kitchen. A double-take and then, confirmation. A sheep was out. Damn. I ran out, headed for the gate, whose ever-growing tree trunk post means the latch doesn’t quite line up like it did a year ago. But it was still latched. Did that mean there was a breach in the fence, then? Shit. I started scanning the perimeter and then witnessed this very same thing, albeit much faster, because the ewe (Agnes or Camille, not sure which) thought I had some treats to hand out. I laughed so hard I nearly cried.
This footage was taken today, my third attempt to get it on film. By this time, she was less motivated to get back in quickly, her secret out. The contortionist can clearly come and go as she pleases.