The occasional me

Skirt. Bright lipstick. Long, flowery head scarf. A bear claw for lunch, with tea. Maybe (later) a bath in the claw-foot tub, glass of wine in hand.  Guess what - I'm alone for the weekend!  Normally I'm sort of understated... you know... jeans and a shirt, ball cap on top and off to the barn I go. Not today, not yesterday. Why is that?  

Well, anyway, the animals don't seem to care, and if they feel neglected, they can tell me at supper time. I mean, I DID feed, and all, but it was brief and professional, and then I was again off to being the other person, the one who is more flamboyant and a bit dreamy and not very practical. But it's fun.  I'd probably hate it if this was how I was supposed to look and act all the time, but for a couple of weekends a year, it's the other me, and I like it, her, me, whatever you call it.

I do wonder.. if anybody drives in here at the ranch... will I panic and run to change?  I hope not.

No picture, though.


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Well, that was unfair...

Echo the Sheep is not... at least... not... well, he is certainly not totally stupid. Using a long rope called a longe line I tied him to a tree, to graze. If not a disaster, I did expect to have to unravel the whole wholly mass of sheep from the cat claw acacia bushes every few minutes. Guess what: Not only does he walk nicely on a leash, but he also ties, using the "end of his rope" jerk as a signal to immediately lower his head to eat some more. He has already chewed a fire break between the barn and the house.  And not only that, but the goats are hanging out with him - strength in numbers, maybe?  Coyotes are plentiful here.

I know there are some real sheep and goat owners out there in the non-desert world, people with fences and guardian dogs and all.  But I'm just me, happily counting my one sheep.

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Echo

That's his name. My sheep. One sheep. He echoes. He's not stupid, but not exactly not stupid, either, compared to the goats. Umm.. maybe limited?  Echo came here because I had not had a sheep since a was about twelve, and I guess I had forgotten what it was like to communicate with sheep. So, he's been here for maybe ten years, making big noises about feeding time, not being terribly interested in walking on a leash, but along with the dogs bravely charging coyotes.

Echo is out today, out of his pen. I am doing a nice thing for him. Spring grass is in. Sheep graze, right? Dragged him out from his pen and let go. Sheep goes running to all the places where feed has been in the past - feed provided by me, or feed being there as in new growth on trees I want to keep. Twenty laps around each tree and a few drags to the back forty with a rope, Echo finally seems to have found the greener pastures out of sight of his past haunts but within earshot of home.   Bliss.  This was so much fun that I think I will spend all day tomorrow doing the same thing.  And the next day.

You get it...

Right?


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