How I Got My Cardio, My Comedy, and My Comeuppance in One Afternoon
So the other day I made the questionable life choice of going to a friend’s house to help her deworm her sheep. Because apparently, I woke up that morning and said to myself, “You know what sounds like a fun way to break a hip? Playing tag with livestock!”
Now, my friend, bless her optimistic, wildly misguided soul, does not have a catch pen. That’s farming 101 right there. It’s like going fishing without a net or raising toddlers without caffeine. Not technically impossible, but why would you?
Yes, sheep are dumb. Dumb as a box of rocks. But they’ve got this uncanny sixth sense that lets them detect one thing instantly: a stranger with a drench gun = probable death. Doesn’t matter if I’m smiling, speaking gently, or handing out free samples—they're convinced I’m there to murder them one by one.
For those non-farming folks, a drench gun is a big syringe but instead of having a needle on the end, it has a long tube. Stick the tube w-a-a-y back in the animal's throat, push the plunger and Voila! Liquid goes down the animal's throat. Easy, peasy. But, of course, you have to catch said animal first.
First sheep? Piece of cake. A bottle baby. She basically thought I was her mother, therapist, and personal chef all rolled into one. Deworming her was like giving a snack to a golden retriever.
But from that point on, the party was over.
The rest of the flock took one look at that drench gun, and immediately filed a class-action lawsuit against me under the Sheep Geneva Convention. They scattered like I was handing out IRS audits. One by one I managed to catch them and do the deed.
Then there was the last one. The boss ewe. Big. Hairy. Full of attitude. Picture a linebacker in a wool coat with the suspicion level of a TSA agent. She saw what I did to her buddies and decided she was having none of it.
She stayed exactly one corner away from me at all times. No matter where I moved, she mirrored me like we were in some weird barnyard version of “Swan Lake.” It was majestic. And infuriating.
So I turned to the universal sheep bribe: grain.
I tossed a little at my feet and casually pretended to be just another farm gal with zero ulterior motives. The other sheep—traitors—wandered over, shoving each other like they hadn’t eaten in three years. Slowly, Miss Mountain O' Wool crept in too, lured by the intoxicating scent of molasses, cracked corn, and bad decisions.
When she got close enough, I went full ninja.
I simultaneously dropped the grain bucket and launched myself through the air like a deranged flying squirrel, latching onto her fleece with both hands. She shot off like a cannonball with me riding her like I was eight seconds from a rodeo championship.
She zigged. She zagged. She ran what felt like a full marathon with me clinging to her neck like a particularly determined burr.
Finally—finally—she collapsed in a heap like she’d just done two hot yoga classes back-to-back. There I was, still on top of her, panting, covered in dust, and questioning every life choice I’ve made since 1973. Did I mention she was extremely large? It was like doing a 5 point restraint on a Shetland pony.
My friend, who I swear was selling tickets and handing out popcorn at this point, ran up, looped a rope around the ewe’s neck, and chirped, “Okay! I've got her. You can get off now!”
Oh really? Righ, I'll get right on that.
I’m 62. I’ve got a knee that sounds like bubble wrap when I move, a back that protests louder than a toddler at bedtime, and enough extra fluff around the middle to make gravity a real bully. And you want me to just hop off this beast like I’m dismounting a bicycle?
Yeah. No.
Eventually, through a series of loud grunts and what can only be described as interpretive flailing, I managed to get upright. Graceful it was not. But we got her dewormed.
And then?
She just stood there. Stared up at me with her beady little eyes and this weird expression that clearly said: “Hey lady… that was kinda fun. Wanna go again?”
Final thoughts:
Sheep are dumb.
I’m dumber.
And if
anyone needs me, I’ll be icing my everything and rethinking my
friendships.

13 comments:
ROFL!! The mental image was perfect!
My grandfather used to always say in his "sheep" voice:
"I've been heeeerding sheeeeeeep for thiiiiirrrrty days with no one to taaaaaalk to but sheeeeeep." ;)
Hilarious!
Next time, tell your friend to keep a video camera rolling. You could be getting rich!
Great story!
Your my kind of gal, Sandy! I could see every little bit of that, but thankfully do not have to feel it! Good story. :-)
ya mom, i would have loved to see that!! the other show would have been me peeing my pants laughing so hard!! "hay look at that, the mom risks her life and the kid's laughing and peeing her pants!!"
Hi, Sandy,
I just read your blog page, funny mental images came to mind while reading it. I think you're onto something that could be yet another 'income stream' for your farmstead! ;-) Do you do guest appearances? We have some wild Icelandics that are in need of deworming and shearing, could sell a few tickets here, too, I'd bet. Then a friend has some alpaca rescues that are pretty wild, we were planning to get together to wrangle them up for haircuts one day later this week. Are you available for that? You could start there, we could proceed to here for the next day's entertainment/ticket sales. Let me know and tomorrow I'll start printing and selling advance tickets, with a few more at a higher price available at the farm gate. Hum...we could all get rich! :-D
While there I looked all over your blog site and noticed that you have a notation about the detrimental NAIS but have not updated that notation to make sure that newbies to the concept understand that NAIS was figuratively killed "...due to stiff opposition...", but is even now being "...pursued under a more flexible framework at the state level." The new name, (changed in order to protect the guilty and to mislead the unwary) is now ADT and purported "listening sessions" have been being held around the country by the APHIS, a division or subsidiary of the USDA. Natural Solutions Foundations is also following closely S510 and I had emails from them about their website being blocked and removed from the internet each time they have a show in progress and have reached the point in that show where they are about to debunk certain misleading statements designed to stampeded Congress into passing S510, the (fake) Food Safety and Modernization Act written by Monsanto and introduced by a member of Congress whose husband is a contractor counting Monsanto among his clients.
We who would remain free need to be diligent and constantly communicate with each other, helping each other stay vigilant and effect real change...change back to the free people our founders intended.
Laura
How funny! Been there, done that. Shearing day here is a scream too. 300 pounders, all RESCUES, no kidding. We do worming, hoof trimming, vaccinating same day. That's fun. Most hysterical is the shearing of the 2 resident llamas. One cutie patootie, sweet boy. He's hard enough. And one big, gnarly, grumpy, hateful, RESCUED llama, "petting zoo burnout" which means he hates women & children & most everything else. He's a real chore to shear, or to even be in the same county with. He hears my voice anywhere, pins those ears back on his head so flat, he looks like a snake, & starts puffing his cheeks out so he can spit on me as soon as I'm within range. Attached to my husband, who always has a hard candy in his pocket for Mr. Hateful. The shearer swears every time (they are only sheared every 2 yrs) "THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE LAST TIME & I MEAN IT".....then we talk him into coming back again....
Thanks for the laughs. Ain't it fun? CJ
Too funny! I like sheep. I tried to catch one every chance I got when we were in Ireland, but I never could. -Cheryl
LOL! I love your stories! You should compile a book of short stories/essays & have it published!
You would probably do well at many state fairs
OH MY!! i hope you weren't too sore after that! I wouldn't be able to walk for a week!
ROTFL! I love your description of how it went down. I can laugh because I've done it myself a time or two and let me tell ya, it's not easy getting back up at 40 either.
Oh so funny. To think of all the farm animals I would think of raising someday sheep are high on my list. Right after tilapia.
Ouch! I hurt just reading that. Take it easy, girl!
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