And Yet Another Challenge

Just when I thought it was safe to meander through the pastures, Dan came up with yet another new challenge. It was a doozy; at least to me. The steers are in paddock 1, the sheep are in paddock 2. Switch them!

I spent some sleepless nights (okay 2 sleepless nights) trying to figure out what combination of gates, running up and down Mt. Everest, scare tactics on the steers (RAMbo leads a guerilla trained flock so no scaring them) and blind luck will I need to "switch them".

At the outset I have to tell you that I am exceedingly proud of myself. I did it with no harm to any living animal. Well, unless you count the bump on my forehead and the three puncture wounds in the same area. Don't worry, they quit bleeding within the hour.

Here's how it went. We have gates at the top and bottom of the fence between the 2 paddocks. My 'plan' was dependent on where the two sets of animals were when I shouldered my way through those recalcitrant 3 wooden gates. I was in luck: the steers were at the bottom of 2. So I opened the lower gate and started shooing them through. Very slowly and very gently since steers can be quirky. Four went through easily. Guess which one ambled in the other direction?

But I stuck to my plan. I ignored #104 and slugged my way up to the top gate. My path took me past Mr. Stupid and he moseyed the other way, which happened to be down the hill toward the gate. Notice I did not  say "through the gate". That would be too easy. A part of me hoped that he would still be in 2 when RAMbo showed up. RAMbo could get that steer through that gate at the speed of light. Of course, then RAMbo would go too and I'd have to try to round him up again.

Anyway, the next step in my plan was to find the sheep and herd them through the upper gate. Then I would go down the hill and close the lower gate. This is obviously dependent on #104 having moved his tail into 1 and the other 4 staying in 1. But I didn't have to worry about that yet. A quick glance down the hill showed Mr. Stupid grazing literally in the gateway. The other 4 had wandered farther away from the gate and were munching nicely.

Okay! Where are the sheep? Can't see them. Deep grass and gullies abound on the far side of paddock 1 (also known as Mt. Everest). So I figure out where I think they must be and attempt a flanking manuever to keep them from moving down the hill away from the upper gate. It is almost impossible for one person to execute an effective flanking manuever. I would have succeeded except that I was so elated at spotting the sheep that I forgot to look where I was going and slipped on wet, poo grass and slid down into a tree branch. That is how I got the puncture wounds. The knot on my forehead was (I think) administered when my forward propulsion sent me headfirst into the tree trunk.

This, needless to say, startled the sheep. Startled them sufficiently that they moved to the right in the general direction of paddock 2. All I had to do was keep them on the crest of the hill and moving in the right direction.

Have I told you before that I love my parka? Well, I do and I certainly missed it as I was shepherding sheep. I didn't have a sleeve to swipe away the blood trickling steadily down my face. I used my T-shirt. I'm pretty sure that shirt is doomed now. Funny how blood stains continue to look like blood stains no matter what you do. I don't want to scare anyone to death or get arrested as a female Freddie Kruger so I think the rag bag will get another contribution.

While I was tending my wounds, RAMbo was herded his flock across the line and into 2. No fuss, no hassle and no steers! I was home free. Almost. I shut the upper gate. I hurried down and shut the lower gate. Mission accomplished! I'm getting pretty good at this farming gig. Now if I could just learn not to bang myself up each time I'm faced with a new challenge. The psychologist side of me is shrieking that this is subconscious avoidance manifesting as physical pain. Right! Whatever. I'm feeling pretty darn proud of myself.