Something old and something new

Monday afternoon, around 3 pm, I was typing at my computer when something snagged my attention. I turned around to look out the window and saw the sheep flock, which was out in the pasture, bunched together looking nervously back toward the field. That is never a good thing to see. Sheep when they are being attacked don't make much noise, but they form a protective circle.

I had no idea what the problem was, hoped it was nothing, but ran out the bedroom door, not taking time to go to the utility room to find a rifle because when there is an attack on sheep, seconds count.

Isolated from the main flock, up against the fence was a lamb (the dark one you see in the photo above) down with a coyote two or three feet away and coming fast. I ran forward yelling at the coyote to get out of here. The coyote did an abrupt stop, turned its attention from the sheep to me, shifted gears, and split. I regretted no gun because, as close as it was, it would have been an easy shot. On the other hand, that moment to get the gun could well have been the end of that lamb. Coyotes aren't in this for the game. They kill quickly.

The lamb's head was up, but I was still concerned she had been torn. As I approached, I saw nothing wrong as she got up and ran to the flock and her mother. Mama was making nervous mothering sounds. That mother and her twins are always together, but in this case, she was helpless to protect her baby. I have seen the bodies of ewes after they have attempted to fight a coyote and ended up dead alongside their lambs. I understand the impulse because if this coyote had kept coming, I would have gone over the fence to protect my lamb.

With the coyote gone, I ran back into the house for my rifle with the intention to bring the sheep into the more protected house pasture. I figured the coyote would be long gone but decided not to take time to change my sandals just in case it was hanging around.

I opened the main gate and frowned at the cows-- guard cows indeed. Because they had yummy new hay, they were around their feeder, munching, chewing cud, napping, and giving no sign that a predator had just dashed past.

The sheep and I had come to the same conclusion about them coming into the house pasture, and they were running toward me. I scanned the flock, looking to see if any were dripping blood, had injuries I hadn't seen. I also was watching in case the coyote was still lurking. My gaze was forward, not downward, but down was where the big, fresh cow plop waited. I stepped squarely into the center of it.

The best description for the feeling is ewwwwww . This is the kind of thing that is not supposed to happen to rescuers of sheep. It is the sort of thing that probably happens most often when those rescuers wear sandals into a pasture.

So the something old (well me too) was the experience of chasing off a coyote. I've done it before, and it always feels good. I go from feeling I am not doing much that matters to knowing I just saved a life.

The something new was the experience of stepping solidly-- scratch that word-- deeply, with what was almost a bare foot, into a large, cow plop (which did happen to also be new). If you haven't done it, and I am assuming most haven't as I never had, it's kind of like stepping in wet, gooey mud-- if you ignore the odor part.

Anyway all is well that ends well, my jeans are freshly laundered, and my cleaned sandal will dry eventually... hopefully with no lingering fragrances. I always wonder when something like this happens-- do the sheep know I will protect them? That they can count on me? Did they feel relief when they see me come out-- okay, she's here and we'll be okay? It's what I want them to think, but beings they are sheep, I will never know for sure.