Forget a Gold Star--This Deserves Platinum AT LEAST

Cubby and I were outside late yesterday afternoon, wandering around, picking up sticks, beheading the occasional crocus, admiring the sheep, when I noticed that one of the sheep was on the wrong side of the fence. By the road.

A. has been out of town for a couple days, the MiL was at work, and that left me as the designated reluctant shepherdess. And Cubby as my assistant. Sigh.

So I grabbed a bucket of corn and ran down to the road to lure Bonnie (the lead sheep that ALWAYS breaks out) back up the driveway and into the paddock. Cubby stayed on the lawn and watched his crazy mother run by with a sheep in hot pursuit, after which I had to open the gate and get Bonnie back in the pasture while shoving the rest of the sheep away from the gate and not get knocked over in their mad jockeying for corn.

Cubby thought that was pretty amusing.

He also thought it was amusing when I did it AGAIN about twenty minutes later. Because Bonnie jumped right back over that fence, even though I gave them extra hay, figuring if she was hungry that would keep her in. No. She wanted that green, lush, tantalizing grass right on the other side of the fence, and she would have it.

So back to the shop for more corn, back to the road to get Bonnie, running up the driveway again with a sheep on my heels . . . and this time I actually opened the paddock gate to let the others out and bring them all up to the more-secure upper pasture. Except six lambs didn't follow their mothers.

OF COURSE THEY DIDN'T.

Those little punks stayed right there in the paddock, yelling for their mothers and refusing to move. So I left the gate open, figuring they'd probably find their way up the pasture eventually. Three of them left the paddock, but then they panicked and when the three lambs still in the paddock started running down the fence line, the three outside of the paddock did too. Straight for the road.

I said a very bad word at this point and raced off to the side of them, trying to get in front of them without spooking them and pushing them further forward towards the road. They turned back about ten feet from the road and ran back up, where, instead of going around the gate, they jammed themselves right through the gate's slats to get back into the paddock.

At this point, I picked up Cubby, who had been sitting on the lawn this whole time watching the action like a spectator at a country farce. The two of us then went into the paddock to try walking behind the (STUPID) lambs to gently persuade them they wanted to go towards the gate.

This will not work, in case you're curious, because lambs are STUPIDSTUPIDSTUPID. Also, dumb.

Eventually, a few of the lambs wandered out of their own accord and up towards their mothers in the pasture, where of course they would not go in the gate, but their mothers came out.

At this point I decided to just let the flock wander at will on the property, figuring they'd eventually find their way back to the pasture if I left the gate open. First I let them go back towards the paddock where three lambs were still (stupidly) bleating and once the lambs caught sight of their mothers and wanted to get out to them, I shut the gate enough that the lambs could get out but the ewes couldn't get in. Then I locked that gate.

Did I mention I was carrying Cubby this whole time? Because I was. And he is more giant than ever.

AND THEN.

Bonnie, that absolutely exasperating and exceedingly stubborn leader ewe, decided that the grass on the front lawn looked delicious. So she headed that way. Bad news. The front lawn is only separated from the road by a somewhat flimsy electric fence that keeps dogs in but would do nothing to deter a sheep. And when Cubby and I tried to get behind her to encourage her back up to the house, she instead bolted for the driveway to go down to the road, with us in hot pursuit.

Thankfully, she changed her mind when she came to the deterrent in the driveway and went back near the house, with the rest of the flock following. They ended up in a corner outside the garden. The fence kept them from going in the garden, but the rhubarb was outside the fence. Rhubarb leaves are supposed to be toxic. The sheep love them. Don't ask me why. Perhaps because stupid lambs grow up to be stupid sheep?

ANYWAY.

I was not about to lose our just-now-growing rhubarb to those ridiculous marauders. So I covered it with a few Walls o' Water that were hanging around the garden.

Still, by the way, carrying Cubby this whole time. Can I get some applause for my arm muscles? Because I think they are the real heroes in this story.

The sheep were now near one of the gates to the ram pasture. This gate was propped open so the dogs could get in there to kill whatever varmints might appear in the hollow there and--THANK GOD--most of the flock eventually wandered through the gate on their own. Cubby and I once again tried herding the remaining two ewes (one of whom, of course, was that pain in the ass Bonnie) and three lambs still outside the gate into that pasture.

I'm sure you could guess by now that my herding skills are apparently not up to par and that did not work. AGAIN. So I just got yet another bucket of corn and led them in that way.

Then I shut the gate and carried Cubby inside, where I gave him a peanut butter cracker for being such a good shepherd boy and made myself a drink.

The End.

Update: Oh wait. No, not the end. That was so fun, let's do it again!

I just went out to move the sheep from the ram pasture to the main pasture, because A. called when I was in the middle of dishes and when I told him of my escapades, he said the ram pasture is not entirely secure. Okay, I said, I'll see if I can get them into the main pasture. So I went out . . . to find four ewes over the fence and on the neighbor's property.

Not entirely secure, indeed.

So, bucket of corn and up to the neighbor's (sans Cubby this time, as he is currently napping), and then bushwhacking through the brush to get to the upper gate to the pasture, with four large ewes lunging at my bucket and trying to knock me over. I got them in, put down the bucket, and then feverishly worked on opening up the fence between the ram pasture and the main pasture while they were eating, so the lambs and remaining ewes would join the wanderers in the main pasture. Meanwhile, the rooster was chuffing and dragging his wing threateningly around me as I was kneeling by the fence, and I was all, "DO NOT MESS WITH ME, YOU BASTARD. I AM IN NO MOOD."

After some more lamb stupidity, they all ended up in the main pasture.

It's too early for a drink. Perhaps I can just have some damn breakfast already, IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?