Through the centuries, as these hardy creatures nibbled away at the coarse, wild grasses, they transformed a rugged land into every tourist's vision of a neatly tended, pastoral England. Since Britain confirmed its first case of the disease in late February, attendance at the cozy little museum has dropped by up to 30 percent a day. And it's that way all over the Lake District, normally one of Britain's most popular destinations. Hotels and guest houses have had to cut their rates just to attract the few visitors they have. Wooden rowboats remain tied along the shores of Lake Windermere.
Empty taxis cruise the narrow streets, past stores that are selling little.
And as the peak season approaches, worry is turning into panic. They're not ringing up for Easter or the bank holidays in May. We're not getting any inquiries for summer. The worst thing, everyone agrees, is that this emerging tourism disaster never had to happen. Most of the Lake District's scenic foot paths are closed in areas where sheep graze, for fear of spreading the highly contagious disease.