A sheep in a fresh grass pasture is a curious sight. Usually skittish and shy, a determined sheep gorging is oblivious and immovable, focused on one thing only. A UFO could land in front of them, and little green people could march out with stun guns, and they wouldn't bat an ear.
I jumped up, pulled on my mud boots, and hurried down to the barn. Our plan, hastily compiled, was to lure them back into the barn yard with an offering of grain. We got a small bucket, and walked out amongst the happy animals.
The sound of the tearing and munching of grass was like the hum of a large factory machine. And the lambs weren't eating so much as tearing around, helter-skelter, from one end of the pasture to the other. Excitable, playful, completely uncatchable.
My brother shook his bucket and I yelled things like: "come on, guys, let's go back inside!" and "do you want some grain? some GRAIN!" And, yeah, they completely ignored me.
Finally my mom came out and we got an even bigger bucket of grain. Presently one of our original ewes, Nora, was coaxed back into the barn yard and after fifteen more minutes of frolicking in the grass, so were the others. So, it was a good day here on the farm.
After the long winter who wouldn't love a chase through the green grass? (I sure did.)