The Sheep-eel

Well, you have heard of a sheep-pig, haven't you?
On Flinders of course we do everything better.
But not, I will admit to the extent of herding sheep with eels. However, yesterday did involve both, and with the inevitability of this place, both at the same time. We asked a local sheep-farmer to 'mow' our paddocks as buying stock for them has just been off the financial horizon (it's not just the basic cost, it's care, and all the other bits). We'll get there, but we start with chooks. Anyway, I still think milk and cheese would be a boon, whereas mutton - well, I love it, but we really have more than enough fish, shellfish, wallaby, and right now poultry, in the freezer. But for fire reasons the paddocks should be short.
So yesterday the the first 15 arrived. The other rugby team will get here today. At the same time a friend came by with an eel in a clay crock for me. A live eel. It was put in a basin in the sink while Dave was out learning a little about sheep.
I came back to find the eel had (as eels will) decided to climb out of the bowl and and the sink and was determinedly heading for the sheep (well and the creek a hundred metres away on the other side of them.

But the day had been saved by the gallant eel-herding cat, Robin (AKA the wussy-pussy) who was practicing being an eye-cat and intimidating it from a safe distance and confined it to the kitchen floor corral.