The sun had just come up and I was sitting outside next to the truck drinking a cup of morning tea. I was enjoying the sun on my face and a view of juniper trees. I saw a sheep casually walk out of the trees, and then another, and yet another.
Within minutes hundreds of sheep moseyed by splitting and walking on both sides of the truck. A few had large cow bells around their necks and a lot of them were baaing. Several Great Pyrenees dogs, the same color as the sheep, were herding them.
I loved how docile the animals were including the dogs, and they showed no fear unless I went too close or moved too suddenly. I went inside, oh so slowly, and fetched my camera. Tal also put his video maker to work and we were able to capture some wonderful footage.
I thought we might see a cowboy or two, but no. The dogs were the herd’s only chaperones. I also found out that sometimes they will add a black faced sheep for every 50 white faces as a means of counting.
The sheep came several days in a row and every morning I was eagerly awaiting their appearance. I loved how mellow they were and it set my energy right with the world just to be among them.
We noticed that there were a couple of shabby looking sheep that brought up the end of the pack. They looked rough with arthritic legs and Tal commented on how they were the old timers. One of them was even marked with a bright fuchsia line painted down its head and back. That looked foreboding and we figured their time was marked for an end.
Then just as suddenly as the sheep appeared they were gone and didn’t return. I watched and waited thinking they may come the next day, or maybe the next, but after a week I was pretty sure they had moved elsewhere. The heat was coming on they must have been taken to higher pastures.
One evening Tal and I were out for a walk when we came upon a freshly deceased sheep. It had its pelt turned inside out and the meat was eaten off its bones. Then Tal noticed the fuchsia stripe on a visible portion of the wool. We looked at each other as our hearts sank. It was one of the older sheep. I wondered if it had been shot or attacked by a coyote. Whatever had happened, it had been left to nature to be taken care of.
Another week went by and we were on another walk. We could smell something dead in the air. “Let’s find out what it is,” Tal said, as he headed off in the direction of the odor. It was another sheep, more freshly killed with some small amounts of meat still on the bone. In looking closer, it also had the telltale fuchsia markings.
Being with the sheep had a profound affect on me. Their oh so sweet innocence and lack of urgency had the ability to change my aura, if you will. I was immediately calmed and a feeling of joyousness would overcome me when they were around.