These seem to be of two different kinds, the all white all over ones in the photos, with little or no horns (though maybe they de-horn them?), and the ones with black faces and speckling, and really impressive long twirly horns. There were some like that a bit further down the road, but it wasn't an easy place to stop, and also, they had been shorn - or is it sheared? - so they didn't look as beautiful in the fleece department. (I don't know as much about sheep as I do about cows.)
Those below were the kind that lived directly around the house where we went for a walk up the hill in the first day or two we were there, my three nieces, my sister, Molly and I. They had lovely long fleeces, as you can see, and they delighted and amused us when they first saw us by running skittishly away from us with stiff legs, their woolly locks flowing and bouncing as they went (they soon settled down and turned back and regarded us with curiosity, so we weren't guilty of sheep worrying or anything). A few farmers' vans went up and down, one of them driven by a very dour-faced character, who barely nodded and certainly didn't essay a smile when we moved to one side of the lane for him.
'He looks very unmoved by such a collection of beautiful women,' said Niece-Who-Makes-Me-Laugh.
We went on to conjecture that perhaps women weren't his thing; perhaps he preferred his sheep.
'Ah like ma sheep' said Niece-Who-Makes-Me-Laugh, in her best cod French leery accent 'zey 'ave the beautiful long 'air, and zey shake when zey run...'
Well, they certainly were very pretty sheep anyway (not a bit like maggots, thank you Plutarch),
some of them had bells on, which it was easier to hear than see,
and they seemed very loving and affectionate, at least with each other.
And the cheese made from their milk is delicious, especially with black cherry jam. I've still got some I brought back in the fridge, I think I might have some now.