Out of the 365 days that make up a year,
there are only two that I'd like to skip...
the yearly pig vaccination day,
and the day before sheep shearing.
Both of those days are truly nightmares
in the midst of an otherwise quiet, pastoral life.
"Why the day before sheep shearing?" you ask.
Well... it's the day before that we must get the sheep from their yard
up to a stall in the barn for overnight safe-keeping.
That way they are in place and ready to go
when the sheep shearer arrives.
My two sheep are notoriously bad at walking to the barn
(as in the whole neighborhood sometimes has to help).
As soon as the sheep suspect that something different is happening,
they become wary and completely stubborn.
They have evasive maneuvers even the NFL can't top!
Yesterday afternoon, I decided to give it a try all by myself.
I figured they would be less suspicious if I tried to
nonchalantly move them myself.
I called them in from the front pasture...
yes, they do come when they are called,
"Sheepie, sheepie, sheepie!" in my high-pitched,
come-hither, barn voice.
I was able to get a collar around Hope's woolly neck
and lead her (with crackers in hand) out of her pen
and into the driveway...
one step forward, two...