A few days ago, Mr. Big Food came across a dead sheep in the Pond Pasture. It was not the first.
A while ago, I saw buzzards going back & forth between the ground and the almost dead gum tree in the pond pasture. Upon further investigation, I discovered a dead sheep corpse lying between the fence and the path. I wondered if it hadn’t gotten its head stuck in the fence. I texted my County Supervisor and asked that he text me back Doug’s– the owner of the sheep and a County Sup from a different district– phone number. Turns out they– the County Supervisors– were in a meeting and Pat (our Sup) had just shown my text to Doug. And sure enough, when Doug came out to collect the corpse, that’s what he said had happened. Head stuck. Dehydrated.
This most recent dead sheep was in the middle of everything. When Doug came out to collect her corpse, he pronounced her dead in child birth. She was too young. Just up and couldn’t do it & died.
Doug came this evening with his wife to give the sheep some minerals. Doug’s wife dotes on the sheep. They are such dotable stupid critters. I am in awe. I raise stupid vegetables (I’m looking at you PSChurchland) but she raises animals. She cares for them. She knows their habits. She– and everyone else in the known universe– understands that young females often die when giving birth. But she still has the common decency to to be sad that a young female was not able to birth a lamb.