it's baby lamb season in england! they're furry, they're spotted, and as you walk by they look at you with their baby lamb eyes, fix you with their penetrating baby lamb gaze, and cause you to swear in the name of all that is holy you'll never have a lamb curry again.
then your hiking buddy asks for the mint sauce. you threaten to push him into the bog. he says that judging by your relative weights, you're the one who would be doing the swimming, mate. you decide to stick to psychology and leave lamb protection to those without expensive camera equipment.