Dear Curiosity Journal,

Even with snow on the ground, we’re over here trying to get the most out of the grazing season. There is plenty of hay in the manger, but the flock much prefers to munch on the freshies – and will baah relentlessly if they can see or hear me. It is their understanding (and expectation) that if I am out, they are out. I know, I know. I did this to myself, but they are all about that free range life now. What can I say? I’m a kindred free range spirit and a softy for those little baby baahs. I observe an uptick in the urgency of their grazing. There is a staccato to their bites, pawing at the ground, and a hurried pace to the next lush patch. They browse the edges of the greenhouses, around tree trunks, and sunny spots where the green still shines through. I let them graze until they are full and finally put themselves back in for the night. There is not much left in the gardens to entice them to cross that boundary, so they mostly stick to their usual stretches of lawn with infrequent farmer interference, a peaceful change of pace.