I’m making some time for the rams. Now I’m going to count them properly, be completely sure the number is correct. Perhaps this kind of grazing land is the most authentic in this area here. The woodland has been cleared and planted in most places, the arable land is plowed and drained. But the grazing fields have probably been the same for many generations. In the middle of the field is an old oak trunk with some kind of iron mounting, could it be two hundred years old? The ground is stony and uneven. You can’t grow things in it, but the grass thrives. I come up onto an outcrop, and gaze several miles out over the landscape. If I, purely hypothetically, wanted to show off some of my surroundings, it would be here. Now I’ve been here for half an hour and the rams are curious. They come up to me, and I can count them all just by standing on a stone.