We have just returned from a two week stay in Annat, Upper Loch Torridon, part of the Highlands of Scotland.
One of the nicest and saddest things happened, while we stayed in the shoreline cottage.
We arrived home one day to find a little lamb had been corralled into a sheep pen next to the cottage, Blue alerted us it was there.
So as not to spook the dear little lamb, we kept Blue from going too close.
The neighbours who are residents, look after the lambs in the fields which surround our cottage explained the poor lambs plight.
His mother had two lambs but only able to feed one, due to a problem with one of her teats, so to ensure the lamb was safe and cared for he was placed in a makeshift pen, on his own. Each day he would be bottle fed, and was absolutely adorable, growing stronger by the day. After a few days the plan was to have another sheep adopt him back out in the field.
The neighbour explained that the ravens, attack new born lambs, and this was a sickening sight.
After four days the lamb was taken out to the field with its newly adopted mother, but alas it did not work out, so we were disappointed to arrive back home after a day out walking in the Torridon mountains, that "lamby" was back.
The feed was working, each day h was getting bigger and stronger, now he was learning to leap, as little lambs do, and his voice was getting stronger, bah, had never sounded so cute.
As big as Blue is, he made no attempt to bark or stare at the lamb, and the lamb was silent when Blue was within sight, coincidence or instinct, who knows.
A few days later we set out for a walk, and no "lamby" was in the pen, another attempt to introduce him into the herd, we assumed.
We returned from a day out walking, to meet our neighbour, and enquired how "lamby" was doing in the field. She explained that poor "lamby" had been taken in the night. No sound was heard, and Blue sleeps in the bedroom with us, where the lamb would be no more than 10 feet or so away, and nothing alerted him.
There was evidence that something had been "pawing" at the ground, near the foot of the fence, but no blood or signs of a struggle, which ruled out badgers or foxes.
So there is no true end to this sad tale, because he may still be alive, stolen, but alive, who knows.
It is a sad situation for those who met him, and for the poor wee thing himself, one week old, and all those challenges he faced.
Though we already adore Blue, he got an extra sympathy hug that night, in honour of poor "lamby"
Little "Lamby", used to have visits from the herd, as they grazed their way past the cottage