Farm Fresh Blog

Some things in life are a given:

* Dogs will barf on the bed.

* Goats will get out.

* Sheep will . . .

. . . fill in the blank after you read this.

Other Half worked all night. He got in bed at 7:30 am. I try to minimize the noise around the house when he's sleeping. Unfortunately dogs still bark, cows still bellow and sheep still . . .

Anyway, Other Half had been asleep about two hours when I heard the plaintive sound of Roanie calling her baby. I ignored this for a while. Babies wander off and blow their mammas off all the time.  BUT . . . the hollering continued. Then I heard the answering call of her baby. It juuuust didn't sound right.  In fact, it sounded WRONG.  So I whooshed through the screen door to find Roanie standing in the yard, staring at me.

"HEY!  You with the thumbs! I need some help!"

"Roanie, did you misplace your baby?" I asked as I started walking around the yard looking for the adventurous waif.

Then I saw Briar. Her face said it all.

"I didn't do A THING!"

Okay then. I rounded the corner of Other Half's work truck, fearful of what I would find.  And here's what I saw . . .

Yep, Roanie's baby was stuck like chuck . . . in a truck. (forgive me)

I'm guessing she got on her knees to crawl under the truck to graze. When she stood up, her fat little self got stuck. Seriously stuck.  Like I couldn't budge her little tubby ass stuck. 

I tried pulling. I tried pushing. I tried folding her legs under her so she'd drop down out of the crack. Nope. Nada. Nada Nada Enchilada. Stuck.

So I got a camera.  And a drink.

  YES! 

And people wonder why I haven't kicked my caffiene habit yet!  Those people DONT HAVE SHEEP!

Anyway, after I photographed the scene, and put some more thought into it, I decided that this was certainly a two-person job.  Yep. . . Other Half had been asleep for two hours. He had worked for 12 hours. 

It wasn't pretty.  (There was lots of cussing. And threats of butchering.)

But he eventually got out of bed and went to examine the situation.  Yeah . . . she was still stuck.  There was more cussing. He finally stomped over to the flat-bed trailer and returned with a heavy-duty jack.

   THIS . . .

. . . soon led to this!

(And people wonder why I'm still drinking. I'll be keeping Starbucks in business as long as I have sheep and goats.)

So now can you fill in the blank!

* Sheep will . . . . get STUCK!

 And even though she's a girl, I'm naming this lamb "Chuck."