The Vet Cometh

My fellow Americans, it is with a grieving heart that I confess to you that I have let down the side. I was all set to prove to the Kiwis that Americans are tough - Marine tough - but when the ram pawed the ground and lowered his head at me, I dodged behind a tree. My forefathers at Lexington and Concord are rolling over as I write. I have shamed the name of Lord and the United States of America. This is how.

The ram was snuggled in straw at the doorway of the barn all day. He may have shifted position but I never saw him upright. I was very eager for the vet to arrive because I was afraid the poor thing would die any minute now.

Michelle had offered to help with the ram when Ross (the vet) arrived. I was a bit hazy as to my role but I am pretty sure that Michelle and Ross expected more from me than abject terror. Ross arrived and Michelle pulled in the driveway right behind him. We walked toward the barn and the ram, no dummy he, was on his feet and out of the barn on the verge. The same verge from which the crazy cows tried to kill me. Perhaps I can excuse what happened to me by claiming PTSD by cow.

Anyway, Michelle and Ross try to corral the ram and I amble along in the rear - far in the rear. The ram is having none of it. Ross who may have a white beard moves like a 20-yr-old blocking the ram and forcing him into a corner. The ram wheels, spots me (never his favorite person), paws the ground and lowers his head. Now Ross is right next to him, Michelle is in the middle distance and I am all the way by the gates but I just know that ram is aiming for me.  I wheel too - behind a tree. And there I stay while Michelle and Ross grab the ram, wrestle him to the ground, and cut his hooves. I stay behind the tree while they spray something on the hooves. I only approach when Ross whips out a hypodermic and gives the ram an antibiotic for the infection. I get the okay from Ross to let the ram back in with the flock and with a cheery goodbye to Michelle, the vet is gone.

Michelle and I try to get the ram out of the barn driveway and into the flock paddock. The ram runs into the potting shed and refuses to move. He is still there. I'll try to move him tomorrow. As someone once said, "Tomorrow is another day." It better be; I didn't cover myself with glory in this one.