For the past four or five years, Zelda has been the leader of the flock, the watch sheep, the one the others followed. Zelda is getting old, she is losing her teeth and her coat is thinning.

Rosemary, part of the Gang Of Four pack of Romneys we rescued from a nearby farm, is our flock leader now. She stands guard, sounds the alarm, leads the others where she thinks they ought to go, and they follow.

When I come into the barn with my camera, she comes forward to stand between me and the sheep.