We spent at least ten minutes tonight debating whether we wanted to turn London outside for the night or not. It is still pretty wintry here and, even though there are two sheds in the barnyard where cows can get shelter if they need it, we rarely leave them out at night until May.
However, London had a huge bull calf the other day (just what we needed, six in a row now) and pinched a nerve in her pelvis. This left her slightly knuckled over at the pastern and she has a little trouble getting up and down. We figured she would most likely have a better time of it out on the dirt, but we weren’t sure she could make the long walk to the door.
We finally decided to give her a shot at it and turned her loose. Although she kind of wandered a bit, she made it to the door and was quite happy to do outside. Later I had occasion to go out to the milkhouse and went outdoors with a flashlight to see how she was doing.
I found her lying quite comfortably on a big pile of hay that forms under the mow window.
Something just didn’t look right though. I could clearly see the top of her head and the area below her ears where her eyes should be. However, instead of her eyes being there, they glowed from about where her chin would be. I stood there staring. Liz came out and stared too.
"She’s down and something is wrong with her." Liz said.
"She sure doesn’t look right," I agreed.
We stared some more.
Suddenly we both began to laugh out loud.
The reason London had eyes on her nose was that BS, the old black sheep, was tucked up under her neck. It was her eyes that we saw glowing. The other sheep, Freckles, was snuggled up against London’s rump. They were delighted to have one of the big guys outside to protect them from the coyotes, and were as close as they could get.
And they call sheep stupid.
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1 comment:
You got it exactly right, "db". Threecollie writes so that we can "actually live ourselves into her world".
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