Wayward Sheep!

It was a Saturday afternoon early in September, 2012,  that I decided it was time to turn our flock of sheep out on the hay stubble of one of our unfenced pastures.  It had been six weeks that our 6 new mature ewes had bonded with our small flock which consisted of 5 Cashmere goats, 2 milking sheep (Ida and Ewenice), an old white faced sheep named Frost and a crooked legged wether sheep named Shellen.

The sheep were happy to be turned out on fresh grass and kicked up their heels as they ran out onto the pasture.  I returned to my kitchen to start preparations for supper, and I could see the little flock slowly mowing down the stubble.

About half hour later, I peeked out my window to check up on the flock and couldn’t see them from my viewpoint.  So I slipped my boots on to get a better look and realized a wind had come up.  The flock was nowhere in sight!  I quickly grabbed a halter and hopped on the first horse I could find.  We booted it across the field, me bareback on a fat red horse of my daughter’s (it was like riding a table—as wide as she was tall!).  We got clear across 30 acres and the sheep droppings left our field and down the road headed west with the wind.  I turned around home in need of more help.  As I just got in to the driveway, a neighbour pulled up in his pickup to tell me the flock was 2 miles down in our neighbour’s pasture still running with the wind.  I enlisted the help of my two girls: one drove me out to the pasture and the other followed on horseback with her best shepherding dog.  My son drove out in the opposite direction to try to cut the flock off and drive them back to us.  Once I got close enough to the flock they turned their heads to me and I called out to Shellen; he heard my voice and turned back to me.  Soon, the rest of the flock followed.    Out on the open field the flock were scattered and distracted, but I was able to find a drainage ditch and drove them quickly back down to our fields.  It made me think of Psalm 23 He guides me along paths of righteousness. Once on our fields, we all could relax. On the way home, I pondered how Shellen had followed me.  We had spent a lot of time together last winter when I had to mend his broken leg.  I spent hours with him.  Bandaging and applying liniment to his limb and praying over him that we wouldn’t have to put him down.  Back in the OT times, sometimes a shepherd would purposely break the limb of a wayward sheep.  Then in the process of caring for this sheep (carrying it on his back until it could walk again) a special bond would be made with the shepherd.  Shellen, my special wether, has proven this to be fact.  He had heard me call and he led the flock back.  The 6 new ewes, had been so skittish, I could not get close enough to them to read their name tags.  They didn’t know me and I didn’t know them.  That began the process for me to develop that special bond with them.  I started by bringing in grain and little treats like bread to them.  In a couple weeks I was able to read all their names: Abba and Aboo (twins—flock leaders gray speckle faced), Polka (white sweet faced), Banjo, Jeannie and Vanessa (black faced and quiet).  Now months later, I call them and they come running.  Aren’t we all like sheep?  Do we listen to the voice of our good shepherd who looks after all our needs? He makes me lie down in green pastures…and He knows me by name.

Now to work on the training of the guardian dogs (Mercy and Goodness aka Georgio and Ted).  LOL!