In Which I Am Knocked Off My Feet by a Leaping Ram

At 11:11 this morning (and certainly at 11 seconds), 11/11/11, I sang out a celebration song, and all the boys begged me to please be done. Perhaps they will remember this historic moment when they are old. Perhaps not.

While Phil ran exciting errands in town like replacing the car windshield, getting a new 9' hose for the hydraulic line for the tractor, and getting the car inspected, I stayed home with the boys. We had a nice visit from neighbor Butch (who mentioned he had seen a sheep grazing his land this morning), another no show for people coming to buy the lambs, and some hours spent planting bulbs.

I can plant about 48 an hour. That seems ridiculously slow to me, and it means that I will need upwards of seven hours a day to get them all planted before Christmas. And that is only if all the rows of trees prove as easy as this first one.

When Phil finally returned home, his first comment was that we had a sheep out. The sheep had been out this morning, and gone down to visit with Buttercup, but Phil had easily herded them back into their pen. Then he had charged the fence powerfully, so we were mystified at how the sheep had gotten free.

The sheep's tail was not docked: it was the escapee. Phil easily herded it into our sheep's pen, and went to call our neighbors who may own the animal.

Then he noticed that the new sheep was sniffing around our Babydolls. It could be normal "getting to know you," but no. It was a ram. And it was decidedly interested in one of our little ewes. And since one of the most traumatic events of the last year was the horrible birth and death of our yearling ewe, the idea of going through that again, especially with a scraggly ram: no thanks!

So Phil and I spent the last hour of daylight trying to cut the sprightly fellow away from the girls. But lambs are known for their herding instinct, and I am not a skilled helper. Early on, I went face to face with the fellow when he showed a remarkable ability to leap. He hit me, shoulder to chest, and knocked me off my feet. I have never been rammed before (and, literally, I suppose he didn't ram me with his forehead, so perhaps I still have never been rammed). And though I wasn't hurt, I stood up and felt my face crumple.

"Why are you crying?" Phil asked. I don't know. Too many new experiences for this city girl, I suppose.

Eventually, though it took several more attempts and two shepherd's crooks, we managed to get the ram and Joseph the wether separated and electrified. The ram showed signs of wanting to go through the electric netting, but only until we got it turned on. Hopefully it will hold him overnight. Should no owners come, I think he will have to go into the freezer, and trust that he will keep his private parts to himself in the interim.