I've often seen this flock of sheep from the M40, near Stokenchurch Gap. There's a high ridge, dotted with sheep, just before you get to the Gap heading south from Oxford.
Yesterday, I hiked there and came upon the very same flock of sheep, now with spring lambs, decked out in brightly colored spray paint.
The little guy with Number 29 was lame—you can see how he holds his left leg in this photo. The farmer was nowhere to be seen; hopefully he'll soon get some help for Baby 29. Sheep are generally well taken care of in this country, up until the day they are slaughtered. (Lambs usually don't live past 4 or 5 months; then they're killed and taken to Waitrose.)
I love to see the little lambs, but I hate to think of what will happen to them. I think their mums must feel the same way; they're awfully protective of their babies. Tall women with cameras are looked on suspiciously.