Shifting Sheep

We had a long, holiday weekend here (Queen's birthday) so up came the family from Auckland. Everybody had a list of things to get done with the blessed extra day. We even have a white board to keep up on task. Can anybody guess whose idea that was? Nope, not guilty. I didn't even  know what one was until I got here. I come from the day of the appointment book written in pencil.
So Friday was get here, finish up work that Dan and Yael get paid for - he's finance and specializes in helping corporations turn around. Yael is a computer person. So long distance wireless is fine for an afternoon. My job was keeping my two-year-old granddaughter Alessia occupied. I had the hardest and most rewarding job.
Friday night started the Sabbath and since my son and his family are modern Orthodox Jews (I am Conservative myself but follow the house rules as best I can) there is no work on Saturday. Sunday was devoted to moving a neighbor's fallen tree (free firewood which Dan gets to chop up). Did I mention that the main house is heated by two wood burning stoves? Yup. My pied a terre (can you have one of those in the country? I guess so since I do). Anyway my digs (local jargon) are over the 3 car garage. And I am campaigning for an electric heater. Odds are good that I'll get it. Old bones and all that. We have electric heaters for the bedrooms. Burying yet another stupid possum; setting traps, etc. etc.
So Monday is moving the cows and sheep day. Must be; its on the white board. Dan and Yael go down to move the cows. I stay with the kids. See a pattern here? Just wait. Dan and Yael come back. The cows moved fairly easily. Probably because I wasn't there for the love fest. But! And there is always a but on a farm. The cows had broken off the ballcock in their water trough and so it had run and run and run. Pretty much drained the water tank that services all the paddocks. The rest of the day was spent borrowing parts (there is nothing open on the Queen's birthday, except Buckingham Palace I assume). With the aid of one of NZ's greatest neighbors, Merv, the thing is jerryrigged but not permanently fixed. and the pump is not working properly.
The sheep still need to be moved. If they aren't moved, they get parasites in the paddocks. Parasites are bad; in our tummies or in theirs. So off go Dan and Yael to shift the sheep.I stay with the kids. Time passes; way too much time. Alessia is fretful; she is a child of charming directness. Where is dinner? Her younger sister, Naavah, at 5 months is asking the same question with ever increasing intensity. I can feed Alessia; no such luck with Naavah. She is being breast fed and has not taken to the very occasional bottle and anyway there is not expressed milk available. We wait and scream. All three of us.
Dan and Yael return. They have chased those sheep up hill and down dale. But it is dark and the sheep aren't going anywhere. We'll all try tomorrow morning before they race back to Auckland and their busy lives. It is decided that I'll stay on the farm and watch out for birth-giving ewes. That time is on us. I'll write about that another time. If I survive.
Tuesday morning bright and early we go to shift the sheep. The kids are once again in the car seats and the car is parked across the road to prevent any strays racing for the highway and freedom or death. Dan gives me two green cloth grocery bags to put over my hands. My job is to stand wherever he places me and wave like a semiphore if the sheep turn in my direction. So up the hill I hike. Through dung, pot holes, thigh high grass (wet of course). And stand at my appointed post. Dan tries to block off another part of the very high hill. Yael is to move the sheep along the fence line toward the open gate which is luckily almost oppposite the gate of the paddock into which they should go. She croons to the sheep; sounds just the way she croons to Naavah as she gives her child a bath. "This way sheep. You'll like it in the new paddock. That's the way. It's all right sheep. We're doing fine." Except we aren't. They race toward me. I semiphore for all I'm worth. I guess it was too much. They wheel around Yael in a flanking operation that Patton could have orchestrated. And back over the hill they go. Toward Dan. Who now runs back up the hill to head them off. He doesn't make it.
Eventually they huddle down in a crevasse near the fence. I go and semiphore (more softly this time) and they move toward the gate. Dan comes down the hill; Yael croons them through the first gate. And across the road they go toward the awaiting gate. And then Alessia, bored with the whole thing, starts to sing. Appropriately enough it is Baa Baa Black Sheep but sung with fervor. Which in the case means loudly. The sheep stop, begin to wheel but Yael is close behind and I am in front with the green bags. They reverse back toward the hill. Nope; Dan's coming. In order for Dan to get in position in time, he has to jump the fence. Which he does and lands in a briar patch. That is why I always wear long pants. Guess who was wearing shorts! So the sheep are trapped. They can only go through the gate. Except that they don't; they just stand in the grass and eat. We are pretty darn tired by this time and it isn't even 9am yet. We stand for a while trying to figure it out. I finally get Alessia to quit singing. Yael encourages them yet again. "You are doing so well. We're all so proud of you. You can do it. See the gate is right there." It works. And the sheep are shifted at least for now.