Brigit stood in the middle of a small group of sheep, penned off from the main flock by a pair of hurdles with the gap between them guarded by her Old Fred's collie dog. She had an upended ewe wedged between her legs, in a similar position to how she had restrained sheep for sheering, but this time seemed to be concentrating her attentions on the animal's hooves. As Rupert watched, she finished paring away with her knife, applied a tarlike substance to one hoof and then released the ewe.
"She's doing a good job there."
Rupert glanced around to see Old Fred standing next to him.
"Wanted to make an early start today to make up for yesterday," Fred continued. "There's been a lot of foot rot and abscesses with all this wet weather, and I don't see things improving any time soon."
"Does Brigit always see to the sheep's feet, then?"
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