Doc Barbara and the local sheep

Darwin, the newly adopted dog of Doc Barbara, was keen to accompany her of one of her fabulous exploits now that he had settled in at home with his comfortable bed, cushion and fish-themed blanket.  Doc Barbara explained to him that there was one hurdle to be jumped before they could set out together: a field of sheep. Alarmed, Darwin asked if he had to leap over all the sheep (his understanding of metaphor is stunted) but she, an avid fan of The Archers, assured him that she meant that he had to be trusted near them.

When they arrived at the spot, the two leading ovines were waiting, placidly chewing rich grass. This did not prevent them from having a sotto voce discussion which Darwin, with a dog's superior hearing, absorbed without understanding and relayed to Doc Barbara, who rather reluctantly, told him the gist.

Darwin? Don't like the sound of him, personally.

The sheep were complaining that they disliked Darwin because he had  invented evolution. Without him, they would still be moufflons (ovis gmelini), lean and muscular, agile and wearing a pleasing brown coat with arresting black stripes. Instead, because of him, they were unwieldy, meaty and bearing awkwardly massive wool fleeces which had to be sheared annually at least - a very scary process. Doc Barbara offered to intervene diplomatically and Darwin agreed, although he had not noted her as being over-endowed with tact and nuanced utterance. Off she went to accost the sheep.

Meanwhile he sat, feeling very small and anxious because of the tone of what he had overheard: the sky had turned grey, his ears and tail drooped, his fur shrank and even the grass looked sad.

 
Somehow, I feel quite desolate.

Soon, Doc Barbara returned and said that any misunderstanding had been cleared up and that the sheep were now in amicable mode, even apologetic and embarrassed. Darwin dared to raise his eyes and opined that they did look - well - sheepish. (Puns are his natural trope). They introduced themselves as Erasmus and Copernicus (there was a snigger from the rest of the flock at this last name), promised that he would always be welcome in their field and that they would accompany him to the gate. Darwin was cautiously gratified but hung back a little, because they still seemed quite large and worryingly (not that pun, please) likely to fall on top of him because of their spindly and insecure legs.

Everything seems OK but you never know.

A worm now poked its head up from the earth: a rumour was circulating underground that Doc Barbara was transferring her focus away from invertebrates and there was concern that they would be even more overlooked. (Did you twig both puns in that sentence?) 

Is this true and why did the sheep snigger? All may - or may not - be revealed in the next thrilling episode. We may remember Doc Barbara's motto: "Procrastination is the thief of jam tomorrow" and hope for the best. Poor Darwin is now totally confised.