The Hits Keep Coming...

Or when it rains it pours.  This was how I was feeling after a stressful 48 hours at the ranch.  I haven't been as good as I hoped with writing in this blog, mostly due to being busy with Joyce visiting, doing some exploring and taking care of the ranch and chores.  But, this last few days my lack of writing has been due to a series of unfortunate events. I'll tell you today about one. More will follow with subsequent posts.

On Monday, as I walked to the front corral with my morning apples and carrots for horses and donkeys, I was making my count. It was one short. Looking around, I saw an unnatural sight…..one of the rams was up against the barn wall belly up with all hooves up in the air. For a second, I actually wondered if maybe sheep might sleep like that sometimes.  That tells you how much I know about sheep but it was just my small denial that I was actually seeing a dead ram.  There was no denying the truth though as the stillness of death is something that is stark and unmistakable.  

I looked over the body and took the guess at the cause of death.  It seemed like a case of ‘getting cast up’ along the wall.  This is a situation where a hooved animal lays down right up against a wall or fence barrier and, as a result, they can get stuck lying down. Many hooved animals can’t be in that position indefinitely without their beginning to put pressure on their lungs and internal organs and it sometimes ends in asphyxiation.  

Pam had told me that Doc had a sort of funny remark he made about sheep.  He says that sheep are continuously on the lookout for a way to die.  After the lamb Queenie’s choking problem and then this latest episode  I was inclined to agree with his sentiment. Goodness knows they aren’t the brightest of livestock. 

The ram would have to be removed. The two things that I was thinking about were how stinky was this ram going to get and how was I going to dispose of it? Fortunately, Pam had the answer. She contacted Dex, my contact and backup for emergencies.

I would later find out in the next few days that, in Dex, I had inherited my own private cowboy slash mother hen.  Not really a bad thing but not exactly something my feminist mindset was used to.  I have been surrounded by 'how ya doin' little lady' since I got here and Dex takes that to a whole new level.  But let me tell you, when it came to a bloated, smelly dead animal in my midst, I reverted but quick to my mom's philosophy of "that's not a job for a lady." 

Now I will be the first person to acknowledge I don't necessarily fall into the category of lady.  My poor beleaguered mother did her best to create this persona in me but I was too busy mucking about in the horse barn with my horses, going skinny dipping any chance I could get and occasionally letting a cuss word fly to have it take.  I'm more like a pagan nature-loving hippie girl, a woman when I have my mature moments and maybe even a dame when I need to get dressed for a night on the town.  But a lady and a "little lady" at that.....not so much.  However, I found a limit to my feminism.  Dex is a sweetheart of the first order and this was one time when I was more than happy to see a capable, tall and knowledgeable fellow around.  I have to admit, I'm a bit squeamish with dead things. Joyce or Walter are the ones who deal with such things when they happen around our house which isn't very often. Even with Dex there though I still had to don the gloves and do my best to hold up my end of the bargain.  I tried to show I could handle all this but underneath my bravado I couldn't help but feel like a creeped-out little girl.  And I found out that the next morning it would all be on me.  Dex couldn't take the ram to the landfill as he had work the next day. Phhfft....damn it!  (Sorry Mom but if ever there was a time for a cuss word that was it.) 

Dex and I managed to load up the body and he explained how it would work once I got to the landfill in Monte Vista.  He told me there was a pole with a chain and I would only need to back up the truck and attach the rope which was tied to the back hooves and pull forward.  Lovely….just lovely.  There isn’t much sentimentality about livestock around here and to be honest, I’m losing my own as I contemplate a long drive with unpleasant smells. 

I woke on Tuesday morning with a definite lack of enthusiasm but determination to take care of my grisly task as quick as I could and get back home to Fenton.  I packed my gloves, a leather bag and a vial of essential oils with a strong scent to hopefully mask any smell from the dead ram.  My most positive thought that morning before I walked down to the truck was at least it was a pickup and not an SUV.  

I headed down the driveway after giving Fenton some attention.  (See one of the following stories.) I had dabbed the cab of the truck with the smell of euchalyptus, lemon verbena and bergamot.  I was sooo thankful it did the trick.  I pulled out onto the road to town a little after 8am.  I had one stop in Creede to check my blood pressure at the health clinic before I could head on to Monte Vista which was over an hour away. (See one of the following stories about the blood-pressure thing.)  As I glanced in the rear view mirror, I noticed two back hooves tied together and sticking up enough to be visible to anyone driving behind me.  If I were to drive around with this sight on the East Coast, I can only imagine the circumstances that might ensue but out here I doubted anyone would blink an eye.  

As I passed through the next town of South Fork, I realized I hadn't had any breakfast so I stopped at a place that advertised amazing breakfasts.  After food and some really great coffee, my mood lifted and I couldn't help but smile at the absurd situation at hand.  I moved out onto the highway to continue on in my little pickup, giving all behind me the view of little sheep hooves still poking up above the tailgate.  

Stay tuned for more….