It was a long, hard winter for Gracie the sheep. Her lamb
was taken to market so she doesn’t have to nurse him anymore but she is still a
bit underweight and needs to gain.
The grass on the pasture hasn’t exactly perked up yet. The
grass on the lawn, in contrast, is lush and green. Sometimes I let Gracie out
onto the lawn for an hour or two. The sweet green shoots of grass are full of
nutrients for her. The other morning she was out there on the lawn while I was
getting ready for work. The trouble started when the Farmer left for the
office.
Gracie saw the big black truck pulling out of the driveway
and decided to follow it. She is the only sheep left and she has been adjusting
quite well for a herd animal, keeping company with the horse and donkey, but
she remembers the truck that took the rest of the sheep away. I told them they
were going on vacation and I guess she decided she was tired of being left
behind and wanted to go too. She followed the truck around the corner and down
the road a bit but got distracted by something on the neighbour’s lawn. I don’t
know how long she was there, snacking on their wildflowers, when I got a phone
call.
“One of your sheep is on my lawn,” was the report. I went as
fast as I could but when I got there she was already gone, “into the forest.”
“That can’t be right. Sheep don’t like the forest,” I said,
looking down the road at other possible destinations. Cows love the forest but
sheep hate the mysteries of the bush with its myriad hiding places for
dangerous predators. They never go in there. And yet there she was.
Halfway up the fence line I could see the cows gathering at
the fence. I could just make out the little white fluff ball that is Gracie on
the other side of the fence. The forest side. Sigh. This would mean going back
up to the house, where I could enter the barnyard and the forest, through the
one gate. I had to change into boots. And grab a bucket of sweet feed.
As I trudged and crashed ever-so-delicately through the
brush, I thought, it’s true. You can feel a dozen eyes on you. I didn’t see any
deer, raccoons, wild turkeys or coyotes, but I’m sure at least a couple of
those were in there, watching my rude invasion. Gracie was not answering my
constant call. She had made her way all the way down the fence line to where
the cows were grazing, hoping to join them on the pasture side, no doubt.
Finally I reached her.
“Gracie. Come here.” Nothing. She just stood and looked at
me, her eyes wild with fear. I shook the feed bucket – a gesture and sound that
had the cows rushing the electric fence. Gracie didn’t budge.
Normally Gracie comes when I call and follows like a dog.
That clearly wasn’t going to work this time. I tried tapping her from behind
with a stick. She just turned and looked at me, insulted. I tugged on her
fleece and half-dragged her over to the fence. I hadn’t taken the time to
change into farm clothes and hoped I wouldn’t permanently ruin my dress pants.
I contemplated launching her over the fence, under the barbed and electric
wire. I stood her up on her hind legs but couldn’t lift her off her feet. She
had gained weight, after all. I tried shoving her head down to the ground and
showing her the way under the fence but she wasn’t having any of it. She fought
me every bit of the way. Then I got an idea.
I flipped her onto her back, the way we do when we are
shearing. I held her down with my knee on her shoulder and lifted the fence.
Then I very clumsily rolled her under the fence. As soon as her face was on the
pasture side, she bounced up and away. Freedom!
Off she ran, to join the cows. Another adventure comes to an
end.
I trudged back up through the forest, down the road and up
to the house. Then I hopped in the car and went off to work, smelling faintly
of mutton.
Email: dianafisher1@gmail.com
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