In Iceland, yo put your sheep into a fold at night, not to protect them from animal predators — there are only tiny foxes.
No, the predator is the tide. That darned sea lunges. Best to fold them up into the earth. Literally.
I mean, you make such a fold by trench sod, obviously, but when the grass grows back over it it can’t hide its shape: fold, indeed.
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Reydarfjörður