The Sheepish Scribe

“Tag! You’re it!”

Jester tapped Joker with his nose and took off running. Several other lambs joined in, baaing and romping along the pond’s rim. Jester climbed down the ditch and popped up the other side. Annie followed but the rest of the lambs hung back.

“Whatcha afraid of? Come on!”

The other lambs baaed and milled around at the edge of the ditch.

“Make way, coming through!” Remus called, running from the back of the flock to catch up, his little black legs pumping across the grassy berm. Showing no hesitation, he bucked a couple of times and plunged into the ditch after Jester. The rest tumbled through with him.

“Come with me, Jester.” His mother called.

“Aw, shucks, Mom. We were having fun.”

“I saw.”

“And I was leading the whole flock!”

“You’ll grow up to be a good ram. The others follow you already.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes. Leadership is a good thing to nurture.”

“What does nurture mean?”

“It means to take care of something, to treat it special so that it can grow into what it should to be.”

Jester stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Is leadership something that grows? Like wool?”

“Yes and no. You don’t see it like wool, but grows inside you.”

“How?”

“Practice, mostly, like you did playing tag. You started the game. You took the lead and the other lambs followed. Even fun things only happen when someone shows leadership and gets it started.”

“And I did that…didn’t I.” His little chest swelled and he cocked his ears a bit higher.

“Yes, you did.” A smile lurked at the corners of his mother’s mouth.

 
This post is part of Christian Writers’ May Blog Chain on the topic, “Nurture.” Check out the other Blog Chain posts by clicking the links right.

“EweNika says the shepherd will open the pasture gate soon.”

“Remember the taste of grass?”

“Do I ever!” Tap lifted her top lip and sucked the damp air deep into her lungs. “I can almost taste it already.”

Twinkle jerked her head up, ears swiveling toward the farmhouse. Tap took a step forward and watched the shepherd walk around the corner of the barn. Alerted by their actions, the older ewes raced across the paddock, flinging mud in all directions and bawling to be released onto the first grass of spring.

Twinkle and Tap hung back and watched as the shepherd opened the pasture gate and leaned on the gatepost. EweNika sprinted through the opening, the rest of the flock flowing behind her like sand through an hourglass. The young sisters came through last, saving their strongest burst of energy to plunge past the shepherd. Wool bouncing against their backs, they skidded to a halt in unison.

Tap ripped up a mouthful of the vibrant green shoots and squeezed her eyes shut, chewing slowly. Twinkle grabbed three bites before stopping to chew.

“Why are you eating so slowly?” Twinkle mumbled around the juicy greens in her mouth.

“I want to savor each bite.”

“It is a taste worth savoring.” Tap’s eyes popped open at EweNika’s deep voice.

“Why doesn’t the grass taste this good all year?” Twinkle asked around a fresh mouthful.

“If it did, we would grow bored with it and long for something else,” EweNika said.

“Impossible,” Tap said, “I could never grow tired of this.”

“Isn’t that what you said last fall when the shepherd brought in the hay?” Twinkle asked, her eyes living up to her name. “And just yesterday you were complaining it tasted like dust and mouse droppings.”

“I suppose, but hay isn’t spring grass.”

“It doesn’t matter what it is,” EweNika said. “We need change and variety to teach us to savor the differences. The Creator knew this and gave us many good things, each in their own season.”

“Well this is my favorite season and I’m going to savor each bite,” Twinkle said, sucking a bit of juice into her windpipe which set off a spate of coughing until her eyes watered.

“You can’t savor while you gulp,” Tap said with a nod of her head. “Slow down if you want to savor it.”

“Your sister is quite right,” EweNika said as she stepped away from the young ewes. Over her shoulder she added one parting comment, “Slow down and savor the good things in life. You can’t enjoy what you rush past.”

The girls watched the wise old ewe amble off and looked at each other before emitting a sheepish giggle and plunging their noses back into the rich spring offering.




This post is part of Christian Writers’ March Blog Chain on the topic, “Savor.” Check out the other Blog Chain posts by clicking the links right.

Daisy crowded to the back of the flock, her wooly rump smashed against the hay feeder. The banging and scraping gave way to brilliant beams of sunlight as the barn door slid open. Joy scuttled through the flock like clouds on a windy day. The storm had passed and unmarked snow lay beyond the door.

EweNika, the flock matriarch, snorted and stamped a front hoof. The shepherd moved to the side, one hand still on the door. EweNika lowered her head and charged. A shovel fell sideways across the open doorway but the large ewe leaped over it with ease. Dance and Mingle followed a half-step behind, leaping the shovel handle just before the shepherd pulled it back out of the way.

Queen and Lilly skidded to a halt, eyes wide, ears pitched forward. Lily cast one nervous glance at the shepherd before the lure of sunshine overrode her fear. She leaped through the doorway with Queen on her heels.

Daisy rolled her eyes at the doorway. The other young ewes crowded behind her, pushing her into the unwelcome lead position. A gust of sweet air blew into the stale barn and she couldn’t hold back any longer. Head high and hooves scarcely touching the ground, she bolted for the opening, leaping through and wheeling around as soon as she was clear of the doorway.

“What a bunch of loonies!” Tam, the black and white Border Collie, snickered outside the door. “What did you think you were leaping over?”

“Everyone leaped through the door.”

“The first three leaped over the shovel handle, but it was gone long before you came through. You leaped for nothing!”

Daisy watched the shepherd open the gate, shovel in one hand, and whistle for Tam to follow. The dog slipped through the gate and then sat with her nose pressed between with fence wires.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you to look before you leap?”

“My mother leaped and so did I.”

“If you had a brain, you’d be dangerous.” The dog snorted and trotted off behind the shepherd.

Daisy took a step back, her ears swiveling back and forth. She pawed through the snow to find some dried grass beneath. The dog’s silent laughter rang in her sheepish ears.




This post is part of Christian Writers’ February Blog Chain on the topic, “Leap.” Check out the other Blog Chain posts by clicking the links right.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m on a quest.”

“What’s a quest?”

“It means I’m searching for something important.”

Milly looked around the barn’s dim interior. Feeble sunlight funneled through cracks and painted random patterns on the dark walls. She cocked her head and focused on Dance who continued to paw through the deep bedding.

“What can you find in the straw that’s important?”

“The right place.”

Milly perked her ears and moved closer but the older ewe walked away and began the pawing in a new spot. Poking her nose in the straw, Milly sniffed and shook her head. It was just bedding, the same as it had been for the past month since the shepherd shut the barn door against the howling winds and blowing snow. She lifted a hind hoof and scratched behind her ear.

“You look troubled.”

“I don’t understand, Mama. Dance says she’s on a quest but she’s just digging in the straw.”

Mingle nodded and stood shoulder to shoulder with her yearling daughter.

“She is. Her time draws near.”

“Her time for what?”

“Her time to give birth.”

“Why can’t she give birth anywhere? The barn is big, there is plenty of room.”

“She searches for a place where the cold drafts don’t reach, a place where the bedding is deep and soft, a place that smells welcoming to her newborns.”

“How will she know the right place?”

“She will know it when she finds it. Some things are hard to explain. When that happens we must rely on what we know inside. Next year, when your time comes, you will know too.”

“How will I know?”

“The Creator of the universe gave you what you need to be who you are. The quests you must make in this life have answers. Trust that He will guide you to what you need when you need it.”

Milly watched as Dance shook herself and bent her knees, folding down onto the straw with a sigh. She tipped her head back and burped up a cud of hay to chew, her eyes half closed, ears relaxed.

“When you’re in the right place, doing the right thing, you will have that level of contentment as well.” Mingle looked at Milly and nodded. “Time spent searching is worth the reward of finding the right answer.”


This post is part of Christian Writers’ January Blog Chain on the topic, “Quest.” Check out the other Quest posts by clicking the links at right.

Mingle jumped as the heavy, sliding door rumbled shut behind her. She pushed her way behind Nip's ample backside and peered around the older ewe. Nip gave a snort, pulling her head out of the hay feeder and giving the youngster a cross look.

"Why did she shut the door?" Mingle asked.

"There's a storm coming." Nip mumbled around a mouthful of hay.

"She's never closed the door before when it stormed."

"You haven't seen this kind of storm before." Nip tipped her nose towards the door. "That little bit of snow on the ground is nothing compared to what's coming."

"How do you know?"

"When you've been around as long as I have, you just know." Nip reached back into the feeder for more hay.

"But how do you know?" Mingle nudged Nip for more attention.

Nip sighed, frosty breath making a cloud around her head. "There is a difference in the air. It's hard to explain but you feel it."

Mingle tipped her head to the side and thought about how the air felt. "It seems... lighter?"

Nip nodded and asked, "What do you smell?"

Mingle crinkled her nose and blew a few wuffling breaths. "Hay mostly."

"Come over here." Nip lead the way to the now closed door. "Try again."

Mingle gave the older ewe a dubious look but tried again. Her eyes popped open and she took a few more sniffs, pressing her nose to the door's edge. "It does smell different. Fresher, kind of."

Nip nodded and walked back towards her breakfast. "Remember both the feel and the smell and you'll know when a storm is coming next time."

"What's the big deal about a little more snow?" Mingle asked, following behind.

"Youngling, you ain't seen nothing yet!"

Mingle picked up her hooves in a delicate, mincing step over the crispy, frosted grass. "I'm cold and my breakfast is too."

"It's going to get a lot colder soon." Holly shook her head, her white ears tinged a pale blue from the cold.

Mingle shivered. "Why did the shepherd take our wool away if it's going to get colder?" Her short, black fleece shone in the weak, early morning light.

Holly closed her eyes half way and looked across to the barn. "It's like this every fall. My momma told me it's because the shepherd needs our wool more than we do in the winter months."

"Why does she need it?"

"She grows no wool of her own. She needs ours to keep her warm in the winter."

Mingle looked towards the farm house and thought about that for a moment. She pictured the shepherd covered with long, curly black fleece. "She'll look funny in my wool."

Holly snorted and gave a sheepy grin to the younger ewe. "She doesn't cover herself with wool, exactly. She does something to it to make it into those things she pulls over her body. The bulky things that cover her arms too."

Mingle stamped a foot on the frosty ground and stalked back towards the barn. "I wish she would have left my wool alone!"

"Don't be silly." Holly said, following her young friend. "You wouldn't enjoy all that heavy fleece coming lambing time."

"Lambing time?" Mingle stopped short and Holly almost walked into the back of her. "What's lambing time?"

Holly shook her head. "You'll find out."

“Why is she walking like that?” Dance watched the shepherd hobble to the barn.

“I've seen her move like this before.” Nip tucked her front legs under her and collasped into a wooly heap in the shade of the old willow. “She looks like this after shearing in the spring and in the fall.”

“But we haven't been sheared,” Dance pointed out.

“Obviously.” Nip directed an annoyed glance at her daughter.

“So why is she walking like that?”

Nip asked, “Did you not smell the air yesterday?”

“Something smelled funny coming from the farmhouse. That's why we stayed out back, behind the pond.” Dance frowned. “I would rather have been here, under the willow where it's cooler and the breeze always blows.”

“That smell was paint.” Nip nodded sagely. “You haven't smelled it before, but I have. The shepherd uses paint to color things. It smells bad for a short time.”

“Is it the smell that makes her walk so funny and tilt to one side?”

“No, it's her muscles. When she shears us, she uses muscles that get stiff and sore. Putting on paint must do the same thing. That's what makes her move so funny.” Nip burped up a cud to chew.

Dance asked, “Then why does she put on the paint?”

Nip mumbled around her mouth full. “Perhaps the farmhouse needs paint as much as we need shearing.” She shrugged her shoulders a little, getting more comfortable and closed her eyes, ending the discussion.

Young Dance watched the shepherd as she hobbled back to the house from the barn. Humans are odd creatures, all in all.

"What's she doing?" Mindy craned her neck for a better look, ears perked forward to catch any sound.

"I can't tell from here." EweNika moved forward with Mindy shadowing her until they stood by the fence bordering the back yard.

"She's still not moving. She hasn't even looked up." Mindy cocked her black head sideways. "Listen, what's that sound?"

"It sounds like the big beetles clicking across the cement barn aisle, only faster." EweNika watched the shepherd's fingers skittering over the open, thin gray box on her lap.

"Do you think she's got beetles in that box?"

"Don't be silly!" EweNika pulled her ears back and looked down her regally arched nose at Mindy. "She hates the beetles, you know she stomps every one she finds."

Mindy gave her a sheepish look. "You're right, what was I thinking?"

"That box must be very heavy." EweNika watched the shepherd, sitting under the largest willow, hunched over the box. "She hasn't moved for an hour. It must be holding her down."

"Yes, she never sits still that long."

"I've noticed she's been spending less time around the pasture lately." EweNika shook herself, starting with her head and continuing down her body, sending the white wool dancing over her back. "It's nothing for us to worry about. It's just a box."

Mindy watched the younger ewe walk away before turning back to look at the shepherd. "I'm not so sure..."