All eyes were fixed on the far corner of the field, way out in the south forty there was clearly, quite obviously, most definitely SOMETHING that was going to eat Roman. Still as a statue, ears like radars and nostrils flared, the black gelding drew the attention of the horses in the adjoining pasture. Usually more than happy to respond to an excuse for a panic, real or imagined Charm ( aka beauty with attitude) the golden palomino and Starbuck ( the MAN) the black appaloosa with no spots suspended inhaling the lush Spring grass momentarily to assess the alternatives, join the afternoon diversion….or continue eating. Two more sets of eyes turned in the direction set by the still motionless Roman. Two more sets of ears tuned in to the alarm network and Charm and Starbuck froze with fear. We couldn’t see movement, we didn’t hear wily coyote looking for lamb lunch. The resident geese continued preparing their nursery and Lady and Quest the Shire’s with the ever attentive Gertie waddling close by, continued to graze. Maybe Rocky racoon and his family were taking a bath in the creek, maybe our neighbors cows had taken another walk through their not too substantive fence…..maybe it was just Roman being Roman. Then I saw it….there it was, a distant but distinct twinkle on the fence line. The waving, flickering object that had all three horses poised with growing apprehension wasn’t going to have Roman for lunch, it was going nowhere…..the source of the afternoon panic was a sparkling silver birthday balloon that had run out of gas.
“ Shall we let the Soay Rams out to play today ?” was the casual question directed at me as I passed, wheelbarrow loaded with 3 tons of steaming poo, shovel, brush and poop scoop. “NO” I distinctly remember replying after an instantaneous decision. Those rams can run like whippets and jump like a gazelle, those rams don’t like us and I could see no reason why a pleasant afternoon in the sunshine should be spilt by a ram round up. It was therefore a bit (lot) of a surprise when, meandering past the fence line I spotted a pair of Soay sheep horns where Soay sheep horns shouldn’t be !!! They MUST have escaped…right ? I did say NO….right ? … Uhhhhh Greg, “Ram breakout” I trustingly reported. Clearly “NO” in English is translated (sometimes) into American as “yes” or “ok” or even “good idea”. Clearly something had gone wrong somewhere in our communication because Greg had released the boys and I could see my nice peaceful sunny Easter afternoon turning into a major ram round up fiasco.
Confidently…“Lets go get the rams”. I have to admit a moment of rebellion, I confess to a moment where I was more inclined to go and get a cool glass of sparkling wine…I really wanted to walk ( the other way !!) but we gravitated towards the pasture. There they were. Two sets of big round horns attached to two bundles of greasy looking dreadlocks on legs… watching us. We walked towards them…they walked away. We walked a little and stopped, I feared the worst. The rams continued to move…..and the little fluffy angels with the cute horns hopped the gate and went home to their pens…ALL BY THEMSELVES !!!! I hate it when Greg’s always right….but I LOVED it !
Got to go, the cuckoo has spoken.
Take care, keep safe. M
“ Shall we let the Soay Rams out to play today ?” was the casual question directed at me as I passed, wheelbarrow loaded with 3 tons of steaming poo, shovel, brush and poop scoop. “NO” I distinctly remember replying after an instantaneous decision. Those rams can run like whippets and jump like a gazelle, those rams don’t like us and I could see no reason why a pleasant afternoon in the sunshine should be spilt by a ram round up. It was therefore a bit (lot) of a surprise when, meandering past the fence line I spotted a pair of Soay sheep horns where Soay sheep horns shouldn’t be !!! They MUST have escaped…right ? I did say NO….right ? … Uhhhhh Greg, “Ram breakout” I trustingly reported. Clearly “NO” in English is translated (sometimes) into American as “yes” or “ok” or even “good idea”. Clearly something had gone wrong somewhere in our communication because Greg had released the boys and I could see my nice peaceful sunny Easter afternoon turning into a major ram round up fiasco.
Confidently…“Lets go get the rams”. I have to admit a moment of rebellion, I confess to a moment where I was more inclined to go and get a cool glass of sparkling wine…I really wanted to walk ( the other way !!) but we gravitated towards the pasture. There they were. Two sets of big round horns attached to two bundles of greasy looking dreadlocks on legs… watching us. We walked towards them…they walked away. We walked a little and stopped, I feared the worst. The rams continued to move…..and the little fluffy angels with the cute horns hopped the gate and went home to their pens…ALL BY THEMSELVES !!!! I hate it when Greg’s always right….but I LOVED it !
Got to go, the cuckoo has spoken.
Take care, keep safe. M
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