The Wild Wild North (West)

A friend of J’s likes to have a few sheep brought over each spring to eat his pasture down.

Because we are still lambing J decided to only take over sheep we know are not pregnant. The list is short: the wether, the ram, Shirley Temple, and Topsy.  The Toyota hatchback fits two sheep in back with the seats down and Topsy and the wether drew the short straws.

We lock the two up over night in the stall with a double door (one behind the other) and, because they are excellent jumpers balance a board over both doors to make the jumping distance too long. They are not happy.  Lots of tin feed bucket kicking and water bucket dumping.

In the evening I head out to feed the bottle babies and tuck the rest of the sheep in.  There is Topsy stuck in between the doors.  Do I laugh? Leave her there for the night? Or, set her free? Decisions, decisions.

 I went and got J and between the two of us we removed her from between the doors and back into the stall.  J leaned the loft ladder against the door and that did the trick.  Next morning both sheep were still there.

To load a sheep into a hatchback is pretty easy.  We thread the halter rope through the eyelet for when the seat is up.  As I lift the various feet in to the back J tightens the lead and once the sheep is in J securely ties the lead.

The wether was effortless.  Now for Topsy.  Topsy is wild and canny.  As soon as I untie her rope to lead her from the barn she collapses in death. “I am a dead sheep, you cannot move me.”

J comes to see what the holdup is.  It takes two of us to “revive” Topsy who has playing dead down.  She could put a well trained dog to shame. I pull on the lead while J pushes from the rear.  Ten feet later we have a dead sheep again. I keep pulling forward while J puts her revival skills to work.  All of a sudden I’m up and moving forward.  Topsy has revived, dashed between my legs, and has taken off with me aboard. Yeehah! Fifteen feet later we were at the car and she was, once again, dead.

Which was fine.  It made it all that easier to thread the lead through the eyelet and allow J and I to collect our breath. 

Right front in.

Left front in.

Right rear in.

Left rear in.

A rush forward and one big somersault out the passenger door and we are back at the beginning.  One dead sheep on a lead.

We laughed so hard and so long Topsy thought she was safe and revived, just in time to be put back in the car.  This time with the passenger door closed and the lead out through the window.

Good night sheep. Good night chickens.

Maybe I’ll enter Mutton Busting at the fair….


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