We raise a small flock of St. Croix sheep. I’ll do a proper post about the breed later, but today I want to talk about Number 29. Number 29 was one of the first sheep we bought. We lost her to an injury a couple of years ago, but tales of her intellectually-challenged escapades still cause facepalms and belly laughs.
Number 29 was dim-witted. Considering the brainpower of sheep in general, that’s saying something! Most of the time, sheep-life can be summed up by four things: Food, Fornicating, Fighting, and Freaking Out. Sheep will panic and run toward danger, because, “well, someone else ran that way”!
Seriously, the girl who feeds us versus an oncoming vehicle? Well, ‘Ewe-nice’ says the girl looks scary today, so let’s run at the UPS truck! However, Number 29 made other sheep seem like MENSA candidates.
When we brought our sheep home, they went into a quarantine pen. When the time was up, the kids and I moved them to a 20-acre pasture.
A bucket of feed, a lead rope on the matriarch, four people, and an Irish Wolfhound (who thinks she’s a sheepdog), what could go wrong?
Cue the “dum, dum, DUM” plot-thickening music. Surprisingly, all went well, until…Number 29 had a last-minute panic attack. With an ululating bleat and a horrified look, she ran.
Unfortunately, instead of running with the flock, she made an unexpected jog left. Panting and screeching, she shot past my boys. She ran along the fence, threw a terror-stricken glance over her shoulder, and hurled herself into a corner. A weak fencepost gave, and she burst into the horse pasture!
This was a problem. Liam’s horse is a jackass. I mean, he’s a palomino Quarter Horse, but he’s also a jackass. I’m sure Finn will get his own airtime, but for now, there’s one thing you should know. Finn likes to bite bums. Seriously. He’s never bitten a person, but dogs, pigs, sheep, or other horses’ bums aren’t safe. He doesn’t break the skin. He just chomps down, holds until they squeal, and lets go.
Number 29 hit Finn’s pasture running and freaking out. She screamed not only in terror but for her flock. You know, the flock she ‘d just left in her dust? (Facepalm.) We. Chased. With all the running, we were hot both under the sun and the collars. I circled Number 29 and tried to haze her toward the gate. She ran from me…to the big palomino.
Finn, being Finn, grabbed her bum and clamped down. The bleating ratcheted up. Finn held on and looked at me. I crept up to grab her. Finn waited until I was about two arm-lengths away, shot me a look, and let go. (The horse is pure evil.) I followed the sheep and grumbled about gyro sandwiches, shepherd’s pie, and horsed-based dog food.
Number 29 fled from both a feed bucket and me. In fact, she ran in a loop. She avoided me but passed Finn’s mouth again. Finn grabbed her bum and looked challengingly at me. We continued the bite-scream-release-chase-grumble cycle for a truly ridiculous amount of time. The kids were hovering in the wings, waiting for their chance to push her to the flock. No. Such. Luck.
Finally, the sheepish twit looped the other way. As a result, she noticed another section of pasture. She ran that way, with me on her heels. Meanwhile, Finn sauntered behind hoping for more bum-biting and humiliation. In the inner corner of the pasture, Number 29 zeroed in on spliced fencing. She threw herself into it full-throttle…and disappeared.
A moment’s investigation showed, that she’d gone into a gap between our privacy fence and a parallel wire fence. The gap was about 14 inches. Further investigation showed, that she’d made it halfway across the width of our backyard and was stuck.
I mean seriously stuck! She couldn’t go another inch. She couldn’t turn around, and she wasn’t bright enough to back out. Have I mentioned that our backyard has a seven-foot privacy fence? Ugh.
Grace had to sidle into the spider-infested gap. (She was the only one who could fit.) We then discovered that the narrow gap made it impossible to free Number 29. So, in case she had a sudden injection of IQ points and backed out, Grace blocked the gap. Meanwhile, the boys and I took several boards off the privacy fence. With great effort, Number 29 was dragged unceremoniously out of the gap.
If you’re from Texas, I tied her like a calf with a piggin’ string. If you’re from The South, I hog-tied her. If you live elsewhere in the world, I tied both back legs to one foreleg. Then, the boys hoisted her to recline in a wheelbarrow. (Paint me like one of your French Sheep.)
Picture four sweaty red-faced humans. Add a smug horse, a wheelbarrow, and a trussed sheep. As a final touch of irony, imagine the sheep placidly enjoying grain from the bucket she’d previously thought deadly. Only the sheep was smiling. Oh, Number 29, that was just the beginning!
Do you have any intellectually-challenged animals? Did you shore up all the corners on your place? Do you occasionally feel like the fox from the cartoons? (You know the one who looks at a chicken pecking and sees fricassee.) We’d love to hear your stories!
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5 thoughts on “Fridays at the Funny Farm: Mad Sheep & Bum-Biting Horses”
Cute story! Our dog is very smart, and not evil, but just the other day, a young robin flew inside the house, and instead of flying out, decided to go into a corner in the kitchen. A little encouragement from a gentle broom was enough to get it to fly back outside.
We have 4 giant breed dogs. If a bird came into the house, the dogs would create pandemonium! The biggest of the dogs would be hiding behind the couch; he’s a chicken. He’d be afraid of the bird and the broom!
By the way, in a funny coincidence, I was looking for inexpensive Mexican recipes this morning. We live in Texas, so Tex-Mex is a big part of what we eat. However, we used to travel in Oaxaca a lot and I love real Mexican food. Anyway, I ended up on your blog! I didn’t make the connection until I got online and saw your comment. I really enjoyed reading your recipes and bookmarked a few to try. Thanks for sharing and for stopping by!
Chasing that sheep sounded like just the day we have here at home. We do not live on a farm, but do have chickens, ducks, a rabbit, 2 house cats, and a new toy Aussie pup. The toy Aussie and cats do not get along.
Someday we hope to live on a farm.
Sometimes, I think some dogs (like Aussies) are too smart for their own good. We have four and one cat. The cat is not a fan of the giant dogs, but they just want to play with him 😉 . I spend a lot of my day saying, “Do not chase the…cat, horse, sheep, your brother… Seriously, two of our dogs are brothers and one has issues respecting personal space! Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to comment; have a great week!