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“Queenie! You
get yourself home!” Dee called to the wayward sheep who would rather
nibble the vacant lot next door.
The sheep
lumbered across the grass at a speedy run. Her wool was full and she
wasn't suffering from missing any grazing. The minute she got to the edge
of the property the contrite sheep slowed to a walk. Her attitude now was
like the name she owned. She was glancing off at a distance as she
delicately simpered along in an unconcerned way as if to say, “Here I am,
back on the property. Are you happy? What is the need to hurry now?”
“Queenie, you
would think I had beat you instead of just raising my voice. Please will
you stay home? Mrs. Smirnoff will calling again gritching about your
being out.”
The fluffy animal
was now looking directly into Dee's eyes as if eye contact was what was
needed. Her Suffolk breeding gave her a certain privilege, she must have
believed.
“Look, Lady!
There is plenty grass on our place. The vacant lot next door is off
limits. You wouldn't stop there and Mrs. Smirnoff is so afraid you are
going to nibble something in her yard. That is if you don't want to go
back into your pen and get fatter even on grain.” Dee fussed at the
sheep.
“Well, I never!”
Queenie seemed to be saying. “Can't I mix up properties once in a while?”
All the while she was ducking her head to nibble on the grass at her feet
with an unusually exaggerated jerking of the blades from the ground like a
kid rebelliously doing what they are told to do.
“Larkivar is
staying home. Why can't you? I don't have to yell at him.”
The sheep
turned her attention and gaze over to her gelded mate to study his actions
long and hard.
“Dee was
muttering. “And, they say sheep are not very intelligent. I'd like to
write a book on that one!”
Sheep were
never around the home of Dee when she was a child. That was ranching
country and not any cattlemen wanted to have them. They definitely were
not like cattle, which were easier to maintain as far as just turning them
out to range. This was what Dee was finding out now. The animals were what
she could allow her son to have for Four-H, since they were not land
holders.
Dee was
visiting with her Uncle about Queenie. He was always having fun with her
regarding her farming efforts on one acre of ground.
“How do you
suppose she knows where our property line is?” She asked her Uncle Dan.
“Probably, the
length of the grass is different from someone else's mowing.” Her Uncle's
father had been a fairly successful farmer when he was a boy. He knew a
lot about these things.
“I never
thought of that.” Dee had to admit. “I never cease to be surprised at
their ways.
The other day Queenie had her focus glued on something no less than a
mile away. She wouldn't move, just kept her stance like she was getting
ready to bolt in another direction. I got out the field glasses and there
at a distance was a good sized dog. I thought that was so strange the way
she picked up the potential threat so far away.
As it goes with
farms, even this tiny one, Queenie had to go to the fair. She was judged
at the top of her line and sold for six hundred dollars.
As they were
leaving the fairgrounds, that evening, Dee was weeping slow tears.
“I'm not doing
sheep any more for the fair. It must have been for a reason I didn't marry
a rancher or a farmer. I mean how many farm wives would bawl every time
one of the animals had to be sold.
All that is in
the Bible is true. They know their name when you call, thankful when you
clean the burrs from their wool, appreciate cool places with water and
when they have green grass to eat.
The priest used
the illustration of a rich man taking a sheep, that was like a daughter
to a poor man. King David was adamant about it and this sealed his own
judgement. The priest made his point.
This closed the
subject for Dee. “Not raising any more sheep for Four-H. Sorry.” |
