OH SHEEP!
Every year around this time, a shepherd runs his flock of sheep directly behind my parent’s house. You can look outside on any given day and see thousands of sheep just walking around. It is kind of neat to see the dogs working them and the flock roaming; in fact, I might even enjoy it, if I didn’t hate sheep.
They have got to be the most idiotic, worthless animal on earth. Can anyone tell me their purpose? Anyone? I didn’t think so. Anyway, these grass maggots roam around and occasionally one gets the brilliant idea to jump over my parent’s fence and then panic because it can’t get back to its flock.
A few years ago one of these geniuses’ jumped the fence and while we were enjoying our morning coffee we got a phone call. It was our neighbor asking if we knew that there was an injured sheep on our front porch. Oh, yeah, of course we knew. We were just letting him hang out and bleed all over our porch while we finished breakfast.
Sure enough, we looked out the sidelight and there it was; a sheep, seemingly attacked by a coyote, bleeding on our porch. Now I may not like sheep, but I am a lover of all animals and felt bad for the poor thing.
We didn’t know what to do with it so we thought we’d start with a call to the SPCA. Turns out the SPCA doesn’t deal with farm animals and could offer us no help. “Call the county Sherriff,” they told us and so we did.
The Sherriff’s solution you ask. Shoot it! I am NOT kidding when I tell you this. He literally told us that the only thing he could do is come out to our house and SHOOT THE SHEEP ON OUR PORCH. I’m like what the hell are you doing to do AFTER you shoot it. THAT he couldn’t help us with, just the shooting of the sheep and the leaving of its carcass on our front porch that the SPCA would not be willing to come pick up. Um, I think I’m going to have to call you back.
It was looking like our only option was to catch the sheep and lead it back to the flock. Luckily I had a rope and knew how to use it. With the help of my mother and brother, we cornered the sheep and I lassoed it. First try I might add. I knew all that practicing roping fence posts to impress my high school fling would pay off one day.
With the sheep caught, my mom got the idea to hop the fence herself and track down the shepherd. I’m like um, mom, MILES of hills and you think you are going to find him? Yep, she sure did and off she went leaving my brother and I holding the stomping sheep. Yes, by this time it was stomping; stomping and bleeding.
Thinking back to my days in FFA, I was able to hold the sheep’s head up so it didn’t try to run away and drag us down the stairs while waiting for my mothers return. Sure enough, about 20 minutes later she returned WITH THE SHEPHERD. I was like holy shit how did you find him?
He took one look at the sheep and simply said, “Coyote.” He then proceeded to grab the sheep and start dragging it toward the fence! I was like whoa buddy, slow down, the poor guy’s leg has a giant hole in it!
When we arrived at the fence line it became evident that we needed some help heaving the large, bleeding and still stomping sheep over. My mom and I looked at each other and were like, “Nic will help!” I went inside and got the recently showered Nic who reluctantly helped and would now clearly need another shower.
Well, that was fun, when can we do it again? Next year perhaps? Sure enough, the next year we gaze out the window and a giant ram is trotting around our yard; at least all his legs were intact and it was just his brain that was missing.
I am not including pictures of the injured sheep for obvious reasons, but here are a few shots taken right behind the house of the heard.
They have got to be the most idiotic, worthless animal on earth. Can anyone tell me their purpose? Anyone? I didn’t think so. Anyway, these grass maggots roam around and occasionally one gets the brilliant idea to jump over my parent’s fence and then panic because it can’t get back to its flock.
A few years ago one of these geniuses’ jumped the fence and while we were enjoying our morning coffee we got a phone call. It was our neighbor asking if we knew that there was an injured sheep on our front porch. Oh, yeah, of course we knew. We were just letting him hang out and bleed all over our porch while we finished breakfast.
Sure enough, we looked out the sidelight and there it was; a sheep, seemingly attacked by a coyote, bleeding on our porch. Now I may not like sheep, but I am a lover of all animals and felt bad for the poor thing.
We didn’t know what to do with it so we thought we’d start with a call to the SPCA. Turns out the SPCA doesn’t deal with farm animals and could offer us no help. “Call the county Sherriff,” they told us and so we did.
The Sherriff’s solution you ask. Shoot it! I am NOT kidding when I tell you this. He literally told us that the only thing he could do is come out to our house and SHOOT THE SHEEP ON OUR PORCH. I’m like what the hell are you doing to do AFTER you shoot it. THAT he couldn’t help us with, just the shooting of the sheep and the leaving of its carcass on our front porch that the SPCA would not be willing to come pick up. Um, I think I’m going to have to call you back.
It was looking like our only option was to catch the sheep and lead it back to the flock. Luckily I had a rope and knew how to use it. With the help of my mother and brother, we cornered the sheep and I lassoed it. First try I might add. I knew all that practicing roping fence posts to impress my high school fling would pay off one day.
With the sheep caught, my mom got the idea to hop the fence herself and track down the shepherd. I’m like um, mom, MILES of hills and you think you are going to find him? Yep, she sure did and off she went leaving my brother and I holding the stomping sheep. Yes, by this time it was stomping; stomping and bleeding.
Thinking back to my days in FFA, I was able to hold the sheep’s head up so it didn’t try to run away and drag us down the stairs while waiting for my mothers return. Sure enough, about 20 minutes later she returned WITH THE SHEPHERD. I was like holy shit how did you find him?
He took one look at the sheep and simply said, “Coyote.” He then proceeded to grab the sheep and start dragging it toward the fence! I was like whoa buddy, slow down, the poor guy’s leg has a giant hole in it!
When we arrived at the fence line it became evident that we needed some help heaving the large, bleeding and still stomping sheep over. My mom and I looked at each other and were like, “Nic will help!” I went inside and got the recently showered Nic who reluctantly helped and would now clearly need another shower.
Well, that was fun, when can we do it again? Next year perhaps? Sure enough, the next year we gaze out the window and a giant ram is trotting around our yard; at least all his legs were intact and it was just his brain that was missing.
I am not including pictures of the injured sheep for obvious reasons, but here are a few shots taken right behind the house of the heard.
that is awesome!
ReplyDeletefunny how I look at the hills and they remind me of "pasures of heaven" when the sheep are o' plenty up there... and now I will see it as "pastures o' hell"
heeh
That stinks you guys have to put up with that.
They do look neat grazing on God's land...
another down point... my best friend's husband mountain bikes up in the hills up there just like my husband and many others do and one day my friend's husband was shooting down a hill after a steep climb and a sheep ran in front of him and he crashed and BROKE his collar bone! OUCH! DAMN SHEEP!
: )
nice pics ... and yes it's supposed to say PASTURES in the first sentence! thanks... : )
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