When the sheep don't come in from pasture

As the light fades, Llambert the Llama lifts his head and walks north toward the gate opening.

Just a yard behind him is the Lead Ewe, aka Good Mom. Behind her is a single-file line of twenty ewes that stretches fifty yards or more.

Slowly, methodically, they march north.

Then, the Lead Ewe stops. The other ewes keep moving until they reach the Lead Ewe. None pass her.

Within a minute, the ewes form a tight flock. Their heads point north, south, east, west.

Lambert continues his northward trek toward the gate. Once there, he moseys to the barn.

The swarm of sheep goes into "group think" mode, and that mode moves them south toward a closed gate that gives them a view of the barn, but not access.

There they remain until darkness falls and I call a Border collie who circles and moves them northward toward the gate that leads to the barn.