The courtship dance has become a morning ritual ever since the day my husband wrestled the poor thing into the back of my SUV. (Lots of folks try to give me animals, but I always tell them if one is meant for me the Infinite Spirit puts it in the middle of the highway).
I'd passed her by for three days, looking the other way. First, I had no idea what it was, which certainly gives one a disadvantage to proper care. Secondly, why would an animal stand still for so long on a road so busy that it extends from Canada to Mexico? I began to worry about the creature going without water for so long and decided if it was still there on the fourth day I would take it home.
I stopped and discovered whatever it was, it was blind, appearing to be the devil incarnate with a black coat and only the whites of its eyes showing. In retrospect, I don't recommend wrestling wild, horned beasts resembling Beelzebub into your best vehicle. But, those of you who rescue know you've just got to do what has to be done.
Little did we know we were rescuing two beings that day. After a month, I'd cleared up Phoebe's pink eye, which was so horrible it permanently scarred her eyes. At least she didn't look so frightening. She began to calm down, and find her way around the pen. Her emaciated body began filling out. We thought it was the kibble.
Then, one day she swished her tail and we noticed milk sacs! My husband and I exchanged glances. The rooster grinned (or at least looked very proud of himself). By now it was December, and my friend Sara who raises wool sheep in Kentucky told me sheep lamb in January. (That would be normal sheep). I ordered a book on managing my ewe and lamb from Amazon, but Finley came before the book.
I will save that story for another post, as it's a good one. The butterflies are calling.