Turning the Rams In

The day I turn the rams in with the ewes determines the rest of my calendar for the year.

One night of the rams sneaking in with the ewes determines a lot of surprised and desperate scrambling earlier in the year.

A ram can be insistent when a particular thought occurs to him. Food becomes negotiable and most fences become just suggestions.

That particular thought wheedles its way into a ram’s brain through his nose.

A ewe comes into heat as the days get shorter so a ram’s nose might start those brainwaves any time after mid-July.

With a five-month gestation period, it only takes counting on one hand to figure out that lambs arriving sometime during arctic mid-December or January will create a lot of surprised and desperate scrambling.

I’ve scrambled a few times.

One summer, those insistent rams climbed through two fences and crossed the county road to follow their noses.

Another year, I missed castrating a ram lamb – we named him Rambunctious – and I learned how early in life a lamb becomes fertile.

Temperatures stayed below 0 for 13 days that January.

I scrambled desperately to help 63 ewes keep newborns warm for those 13 days.

Then I hauled Rambunctious to the auction, even though he clearly knew how to perform his one single job.

After those scrambles, I started keeping my rams in my friend, Mary’s, pasture, five miles and many fences away from my ewes.

So far, this strategy has been effective.

Last week, it was time to put the rams to work.

Mary has a goat who needed a new friend when the rams left so I loaded two ewe lambs who need some TLC into my horse trailer.

They could enjoy Mary’s pampering while keeping the goat company.

Mary has trained the rams to follow her with grain and she had moved them to a small pasture.

Our switcharoo should be quick and simple.

I backed the trailer to the corral next to the pasture and unloaded the lambs.

They slipped under the trailer door, trotting off to explore the driveway and a big field.

Fortunately, they are small and slow. I grabbed one and stuffed it into the pasture to entertain the goat.

The other followed.

Two rams slipped into the trailer.

I rewarded them with grain.

Two more rams and the goat ignored the lambs and slipped under the trailer door, into the field.

When I shook the can of grain, they meandered away.

After all, I had grain, but I was not Mary.

I wasn’t exactly a stranger, but I certainly was not to be trusted.

I poured a bit of grain on the ground and stepped back.

The rams enjoyed their treat.

The goat followed me back into the corral, but the suspicious rams stayed outside.

All of them ignored the lambs, who bleated in the pasture.

My juggling act could easily turn chaotic if I dropped even one ball.

The rams noticed when I grabbed their friend the goat and slipped her into the pasture with the lambs.

They wandered into the corral to investigate.

I shook the can of grain to get their attention and then poured a pile inside the trailer.

I could see the rams’ cogs turning as they considered the ultimate consequences of their choice.

Friendship or food. It was all on the line.

The rams sniffed the goat through the corral fence and then meandered over to the pile of grain in the trailer.

Back at my ranch a half an hour later, the rams forgot all about food and their friend the goat.

Their noses had delivered a particular thought.

Lambs should arrive in May.