Brazen, Peers

The sheep. Ah, the sheep. Five of them, belonging next door but believing my land, house, kitchen and vegetable matter was theirs by right. I've long given up trying to shoo them off, since giving them a fright made them run ten yards before stopping, turning, glaring and returning. I gave in and started offering them the discards of my veg, and tried them on banana peel. They loved it; fought over it. One of them is learning how to open the back door. Brazen, I call her, because she is. [Peers, because she does - under the bottom rail of the fence.] Brazen has already worked out the handle, but hasn't yet learned how to pull on it hard enough. Give it time.
Then there's the horses. Fana (down the hill) and Carina (up the hill)

are best friends and spent much of summer breaking out of their own paddocks to be with each other, often on neutral ground, which usually meant my patch. I gave them both their first taste of carrot - Fana's eyes almost popped out of her head with delight and surprise, and Carina was completely overcome. Neither needed to be asked twice, and one morning I opened the kitchen door to have both horses shove their heads into the house, sniffing out carrots, sugar lumps and other delights. If you know how to push horses backwards out of a doorway, let me know.