Well, it happened

Remember last month, when I wrote that our sheep are defying the odds by refusing to die? And I added: check next week to see if I jinxed them.

Well, I should have written, “check next month.” Because it happened: I jinxed the sheep.

One in particular.

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From a distance, I half-hoped that she was just dozing like a dog, wedged against the shed. But when I approached and only 4 scattered, there was little doubt.

It was bound to happen. At least three of the ewes were mature when we acquired the herd 8 years ago. (We started with 6; one died in the first year.) Sheep live 10 to 12 years, but one Katahdin sheep site estimates the lifespan at 7 to 12 years.

So she had a good life… aside from being periodically terrorized by Maisie’s high-speed herding style.

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And there was that one experiment with mutton busting in 2012.

But the kid fared far worse than the sheep.

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If anything, life has been too good for our flock; they’re all in the 200 pound range and they do not hesitate to throw their weight around when we try to minister care: deworming and hoof trimming.

I will spare you the unsavory details of moving and disposing of a dead, bloated, 200+ pound sheep. I’ll just say that it was smelly and physically challenging. And Martin and I wanted to burn our clothes afterward.

So if it’s possible to retract a jinx, I’d like that option, please.

The final four are welcome to stick around awhile longer.

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