This is actually a small rant.

One of out Icelandic ewes, our herd queen, always thinks the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.

Like, literally, 3 or 4 times this past summer the LGDs let us know there was a problem so we ran out to find Matilda had shoved her head under the high tension wire that runs around the foot of the chain link pasture fence. Of course then she gets her bushy mane hung up on the twisted ends of the chain link and is pinned there until we come to her rescue. The grass in our pasture was so long and bushy I wanted to mow it and she was reaching under for who-knows-what that apparently looked too good to resist over at the neighbors.

Bare in mind, I can barely shove my booted foot under that fence, it’s not a gaping hole, it’s such a minuscule opening that I can’t even fathom how she fits her pointy nose under let alone her whole head.

Tonight she did it again. AND THERE ISN’T EVEN ANY GRASS! We went out to feed just like usual, Tom was opening the gate and I was counting noses. I was coming up 2 short. And then I heard the low moan. Filled with dread I said I need in NOW and Tom pried the panels open enough for me to climb through the still latched gate. We keep it securely latched which means a multi-step and time consuming process to open the thing, but it keeps the animals in so…

Anyway, I’m listening and trying to dig a light out of my pocket, the moan is coming through the willow thicket. The least accessible area of the pasture, of course. I get through to see the big brown booty standing tall while the “smart” end is most definitely trapped under the fence between two bricks that are hopelessly frozen to the ground. Matilda chose a 3-4 inch wide gap between two cinder blocks and decided that was the way to the promised land.

A rather pregnant sheep, looking like a squat A- frame in need of a wide load sticker, thought she could find joy by sliding her big self through a 3″ X 3″ gap. Really? And for what? More snow and some dead leaves? We have the exact same, leaves and all, on our side of the fence.

Poor Tom had to get down in the snow to pull her legs out from under her and lay her on her side while I heaved up on the tension wire with one hand and covered her eyeball with the other so she wouldn’t blind herself while pulling her head back. We’ve got the rescue portion of the process down to a fine science.

To add insult to injury we held on for dear life and did not let her scamper away until we had examined her for any sign of wounds from the pronged end of the chain link. That wild hair of hers protects her from puncture wounds, thank goodness.

She was still the first in line for hay, apparently being trapped for who knows how long didn’t dampen her appetite or lessen her position of power. She is still the reining queen in our woolly parade. Silly Sheep.