Sheep's Eyes

It was a chilly but sunny April morning. My son, his wife and myself were taking a drive through the wonderful Glens of Antrim and enjoying the spring weather.

The hills were full of sheep in the lambing season. Each sheep had two or three lambs trotting after them or playing on the grassy slopes. I reminded everyone, of course, to watch out for sheep on their backs. Once a pregnant sheep falls over on its back, it can not get up again. The outcome is then unfortunately inevitable. The more the poor animal struggles, the quicker she loses strength and the predators start to gather.

We had just passed the old ruined church of Dunluce Castle and were driving slowly up a small country lane, eyes peeled, when my son gave a cry “sheep on its back”. We stopped at an old rusty iron gate and sure enough there lay the sheep. She was still moving her legs, but was clearly getting exhausted. A few crows had already gathered, waiting to peck out her eyes.

The field was divided into two parts, a low plain and a hill leading to the gate. It was on this hill that the sheep was now lying. Looking down the slope we saw the rest of the flock huddled together at the other end of the field. Everything was still and gave the impression of waiting.

We leapt over the gate and slowly and carefully approached the stricken animal. The crows eyed us suspiciously. The poor sheep, too, but she was obviously too tired to struggle. Sheep are heavy, pregnant sheep doubly so. The three of us reached under the animal and slowly and with a great effort got her onto her feet. For a moment she swayed, legs buckling under the strain, but we held her upright and waited for her legs to gain strength again. Slowly she took a few tentative steps and, still using us as a support, moved around the hill in a small circle. We let go and she was standing on her own four legs. The crows began to fly off in disgust.

Our sheep made her way down the slope towards the rest of the flock and we looked on proudly. Suddenly a second sheep separated from the flock and, bleating loudly, came rushing across the field towards our sheep. It was reminiscent of Cathy and Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights. Both sheep met in the middle of the field and bleating softly, nuzzled each other. They enjoyed this a few moments and then trotted towards the flock together. Soon they were engulfed by little white woolly bodies.

The whole flock started to move towards a gap in the hedge and, last to go, our sheep suddenly turned and stared up at us standing on the hill. It seemed as if ages past as human and animal stared at each other, then with a bleat, she turned and trotted after the rest of the flock and disappeared through the gap in the hedge.
To this day I would love to know what was in her head at that moment, a very human moment. So if you find yourselves among sheep in lambing season, be vigilant.

Thank you Mary Perioli for sending us another great story.

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