I have decided to re-rename Scotland. I have actually called it, The Land of the Midge but now it must be called the Land of the Sheep. They are everywhere, roads, gardens, bridges, nuzzling their way into shops and front doors. And they are not very fluffy and white. All the sheep I saw looked as though they had been fighting with a bad-tempered shearer and also their bottoms were always green or brown or both. The picture shows you the correct end of a sheep to look at.
Anyway, that is not to mention the ones that were dead. These were probably the ones who thought:
a. they did not want a bad hair cut
b. or to end up as something unspeakable at the local pub (The Jac-o-Bite) and so trotted off.
We found a drowned one, a half eaten one and one on a beach. All dead. I have done a little photo montage of the beach dead sheep and if you do not want to look at that you can always look at the views of Skye also inside each photo.