Friday, August 9, 2013

Bucket Head

As I was recouping from a great, but long, day yesterday (I admit, recouping currently means mindless games of solitaire alone in my room for 15 minutes after coming home),  I kept hearing a persistent, but oddly soft distress call from the sheep. 

I figured that a lamb got on the ram side and was locked away from mom, so I headed outside to check it out.  It's always a bit of a rodeo to get the lambs out of the rams, because you have to keep half an eye on Elvis and try to herd the little guy through a cracked open gate - without letting Hulu or Elvis through.  Let's just say I wasn't feeling terribly enthusiastic about the adventure. 

As I rounded the corner to the sheep pen, I had to laugh.  All the sheep were piled up against the gate, seemingly in abject fear, and the complainant was in the barn with a bucket firmly stuck on her head, calling for help with the regularity of a metronome.  I thought she was a lamb because she was muffled. 

I pulled the bucket off and all the sheep came flooding back in, hoping for a second course of dinner.  Too bad, guys. 

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