How Did She Know?

Yesterday had been a good day. I hadn't lost anything; broken anything; or messed up in any significant way. So I made myself a celebratory dinner of mutton, asparagus and baked potato. I was still congratulating myself as I prepared to step into the shower.

And then my perfect day fell apart. Literally as I was sticking my toe into the water, I heard a loud, plaintive BAAA from under my window. Really loud!! As in "I'm not in my paddock. I'm here in the driveway." And she was! 'She' was an almost grown lamb who desperately wanted back to her flock.

The problem is that she could bolt, run down the driveway into a neighbor's property or even down to the road and cause havoc with the traffic. And it would all be my responsibility. 

So I pulled a raincoat on over my wetness (and bareness) and ran sockless in my farm shoes into the garage. The sound of the garage door opening sent the lamb into a frenzy and down she ran. Off our driveway and 2/3 of the way down our shared driveway. I got in my car and followed. I parked beyond her and jumped into the too tall grass and waded my way up to her. My idea was to herd her into the paddock through the driveway gate.

Unfortunately that gate turned out to be locked and I didn't have the key. I did have grass up to my navel (did I mention it was wet grass?) and was distinctly uncomfortable. Anyway, at this point the lamb bolts back INTO our driveway, I run back down to the car, and drive past her to open the gate into the area before her paddock. 

This is the area claimed as their own by my chickens who bolt themselves at this unexpected opportunity to race into my garden and destroy all my baby flowers. So then I drive back and secure my neighbor's gate and our gate to the main driveway. All this time the  lamb is loudly protesting her enforced separation from the flock. 

"Aha!", I think, "I've got her now. All I have to do is herd her into the chicken yard, open the far gate to the paddock and shoo her in." Oh, the best laid plans...etc. I get out of my car and start moving her. She moves all right. Back down our driveway to the closed gates. I sigh with relief a tad too soon. She bellies her way under the gate and dashes back down the road.

Reread the first few paragraphs. It all happens again! Finally I get her back into our driveway and this time I back the car up against the gate so she can't scoot through. This works and she darts into the yard. I shut that gate behind her. She runs over to the brush next to the barn and I open the gate into the paddock preparatory to shooing her through.

Wrong again! She bolts over the brush and falls into a gully on the other side. She is trapped; the other 46 sheep are not. They curiously start poking their heads through the now open gate. I spend the next few minutes racing back and forth keeping the flock away from the gate and trying to extricate the lamb. I finally fall into the gully myself as I push the lamb out. As I thrash around trying to get out, she saunters calmly through the paddock and rejoins her family.

As I get back into the shower, wincing at all my scrapes and bruises, I have one question. How in hell did that lamb know I had just eaten her grandmother? And was this a purposeful revenge? Okay, make that 2 questions.

Til later.