Being a Shepherd

It the Halloween season here at The Abbey. Our woods are bright with color. The air is crisp, and there is a faint smell of burning leaves. Huge green behemoths crawl across the fields harvesting the crops, and the dust leaves the most spectacular sunsets.

It’s pumpkin time and I bought three. Of course we are all adults, and to hear it told, I forced my family to carve them. This is family fun, right? Jesse, my son-in-law, made three triangles and a circle indicating that it was a surprised pumpkin – no one was surprised! Men have no imaginations. Sarah did a wolf, very nice. Me, after long deliberation I chose a turkey. It seemed fitting. Setting our candle-lit pumpkins outside on the door step, we celebrated Halloween. Well not totally.

I had to buy candy, “Halloween candy,” the candy that made up my Halloween as a child. So out I went and bought $30.00 of my favorites. Now I realize that no one in their right mind would walk down a three-quarter of a mile driveway to get a ten-cent candy bar, but that’s not the point! It’s the tradition of the thing! And frankly, I like candy.

I found out that being on a farm you must be many things. There is no such thing as “just a farmer.” We are multi-complex creatures; farmer … yes, but also, engineer, veterinarian, botanist, electrician, mechanic, and guardian and sometimes a Sherlock Homes detective.

Arriving at The Abbey around 7:00 PM, Sarah and I ventured down to the barns to feed the animals. While carrying hay to the horses I notice tracks in the wet sand. Must be deer tracks? It’s deer season; maybe one ran through here? Huh! Not sure. Odd! Very Odd!

Following the prints, they passed the alpaca barn and wandered out to the pasture heading for the woods. Uh, oh! There it was. The tell tale sign … a pile of small black bean poop -- alpaca poop! One of the girls is out. Sister Linnea, our mahogany girl is missing. Great! A dark-colored alpaca loose on a dark night. And to add just a little intrigue to the situation, IT’S THE BEGINNING DAY OF HUNTING!

There we were, Sarah and I, flash light in hand, following the tracks out to the woods. Suddenly her tracks disappeared. Sweeping the field with the light we saw nothing. Linnea, God Bless her little feet, has double backed on us.

Heading back towards the barn, Sarah said she would get the car, perhaps we could see more with the headlights and have some protection from getting shot by hunters. Wait, my new car? In the plowed field? With bullets and hunters? My last new car ever; the one that was to be the kept-for-good car? The only-driven-on-Sunday car? I am having second thoughts, but it’s too late. Stumbling through the field on the south side of the barn, and at the edge of our property, there she was. “I found her,” I screamed at Sarah, hoping she would hear me, she didn’t . Here comes the car over the freshly plowed field, headlights flickering up and down in rapid session. Did I tell you that I picked the light interior?

I figure that if we don’t get shot by some sleepy hunter, arrested by the DNR for shinning deer, or attacked by the coyotes, we have a sporting chance of catching her and returning her to the barn.

Armed with the lights of the car, the spot light, and a rope, we slowly walked towards Sister Linnea. She took one look at us and bolted.

Plan 1 “The Chase”
Running in a plowed field is like having one leg ten inches shorter than the other, but you don’t know which leg. To watchers from afar, all you would see is a bobbing light, then sudden stop, the light shining straight up, and then bobbing again, and stopping over and over. Several falls later we gave up the chase.

Plan 2 “The Lasso”
Taking the rope, we make a large circle large enough to go over her head with plenty of room. OK, wait until things are settling down. We return to our original positions with Linnea in the middle. We slowly move in. First 20 feet away, then 15, then 10 … just a few more feet and we are in the range to throw the lasso. Stealth, that’s what’s needed. Quietly, slowly … THROW … missed, now begin the yelling and running and falling again. Dirt has a distinct taste!

Plan 3 “The Bushes”
There is a small bunch of bushes by the fence where Linnea likes to run through. So here’s the plan, Sarah you will crouch down in the bushes, and I will herd her between the fence and the bushes. You jump out and lasso her … piece of cake. Now after three hours of running and falling trying to catch this animal, as God is my witness, this plan sounded sane. All was ready, Sarah was in the bushes, I was slowly herding the alpaca towards the fence and the bushes, and it looked like this one was going to work. Aim, slowly … wait … JUMP! The rope flew through the air brushing the top of Linnea’s head. There was a stumble, a scream and the back side of an alpaca heading into the field. Her tail pointed straight up in the air like the middle finger of a New York cab driver.


Plan 4 “Sex”
Get the boy. Now the car tires are knee deep in the field; me, I am hunkered down in a rut; and, in the next field the neighbor passing by in his combine with all the lights a blaze. I sheepishly waive. It will be a miracle if we don’t get arrested.

Here comes Sarah with Athos, our big male. The minute the headlights hit him, zoom here comes Linnea tail in the air. It’s over, Sarah, Athos and Linnea waltz back to the barn, I drive my dirty, dirty car. Success! Sex works all the time.

Dragging, we head back to the house, relieved, tired, filthy with mud, a job well done, and the knowledge that it’s just another day at The Abbey. Ruth