A Sudden Strike at Chores
The sheep slammed its dark forehead against the side of the galvanized bucket, knocking the metal clean out of the farmer’s grip.
Dry yellow corn kernels rained across the wet concrete path, bouncing against stone and rolling into muddy puddles beside the barn door.
The man caught his breath, his hands hanging open in mid-air as the pail rattled to a stop on its side.
Instead of ducking down to gobble up the grain, the ewe turned her back on the food and took off at a hurried trot toward the pasture gate.
She let out a sharp, gravelly bleat, swinging her head over her shoulder to make sure the farmer was watching.
The man ignored the pile of wasted grain, pulled his jacket tighter, and stepped after her through the open wooden post.
Tracks Through the Wet Meadow
His tall rubber boots sank an inch into the spongy earth with every stride, leaving deep treads in the damp grass.
Ahead of him, the sheep never slowed her pace, her dark hooves churning up wet soil as she cut a path across the foggy clearing.
She kept up a steady rhythm of rough calls, throwing her chin forward as if pulling him along by an invisible tether.
The fog hung low between the distant pine trees, wrapping the field in cool, gray mist as they drew nearer to the tree line.
At the far boundary of the pasture, where the grass dropped off into a runoff trench, the ewe suddenly stopped.
She stood rigid on the upper lip of the bank, peering straight down into the murky pool below.
A Lifeline in the Ditch
A faint, high-pitched cry came from the brown water at the bottom of the trench.
A tiny lamb stood trapped in the muck, its creamy fleece soaked and heavy with brown runoff.
The little animal threw its head upward, panting hard, its slender legs buried deep in the sucking clay.
The farmer slid down the slick incline on the heels of his boots, splashing ankle-deep into the dark water.
He bent at the knees, setting one hand firmly under the lamb’s wet belly and sliding his other palm beneath its chest.
The mud made a hollow slurping sound as he pulled the small creature upward, prying its tiny hooves free from the suction.
Heavy streams of water poured from the lamb’s wool, splashing in circles across the pool beneath them.
He cradled the wet bundle against his chest and turned to face the grassy bank above.
Back on Solid Ground
The man leaned forward, carefully setting the shivering lamb onto the green sod next to the ditch.
He knelt in the grass beside it, his broad hands smoothing down the wet wool along its sides to help steady its shaking legs.
The ewe stepped in close, lowering her neck until her dark snout met the lamb’s face.
She ran her nose along the little one’s damp jawline, sniffing the mud and letting out a low, muffled rumble from deep in her throat.
The lamb leaned its body weight against the man’s knee, finding its balance as the mother pressed her face closer.
The farmer smiled, his hand resting flat against the lamb’s flank while the two animals stood nose to nose under the damp trees.
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