Bonus - Adopting Amy

I mentioned in today’s post that my niece sings to Amy to keep her from bleating endlessly.  She is our only sheep and lives with our herd of goats.  This is her story.

Adopting Amy was not in the plan.  I had gone to an Institutional Researchers conference along the shoreline of Connecticut earlier that fall.  Once a year all of us number geeks get together to talk about our research adventures, improvement strategies, new coding languages, and the challenges of answering simple questions with complex data.  This was my first conference since leaving a larger University for my research associate position in a smaller college so I was really excited to see my previous co-workers.

Two of the women from my previous job sat with me in the back of the class.  We pretended to listen intently as we passed notes like teenage girls in a history class.  They are both avid dog rescuers, one of them also raising sheep and housing horses on a large local farm.  Through many messages I was told that a downsizing decision was made to process the sheep that lived on the farm after they broke free from the horse fencing for the seventh time that year.  The story broke my heart but there was one shining hero: One of the sheep had escaped.

This single sheep remained free in the pasture refusing to return to the barns for 2 weeks.  The farming friend did not want to deal with this sheep anymore and it wasn't feasible to have it processed independently.  They both knew I was a spinner and that I had housing and fencing established.  They asked if I would like to adopt her.

By the time we were wrapping up the free lunch and getting ready for afternoon sessions I had sent multiple pictures of Amy to John.  I wasn't sure this was a good idea but already felt drawn to Amy; she was a survivor!  A deal was soon struck: we would pick her up that weekend and try to assimilate her with the goats for one week.  If this didn't work by the following weekend I had to give her back to the farmer who would sell her to the highest bidder.

That night I cleared out the trailer with John's help to prepare for picking up Amy.  I did not know a thing about sheep but was very willing to give it a try.

We got to the farm early that Saturday morning.  It was a cloudy day.  My friend had lured Amy into a stall with food the night before and she was already wearing a circle into the floor with her nervous behavior.  This was not a good sign.  My friend grabbed a blue rope tied in weird knots and said, "I'm going in".  There was a lot of swearing that followed and at one point my friend was on the ground.  John gave me a concerned look.  I smiled sheepishly….

Once Amy was haltered we let her out of the stall.  She dragged my friend back and forth until John and her finally got Amy near the trailer.  My job was to prevent her from escaping out the side.  I was scared.  She was huge and frantic.  My friend got into the trailer with the reins and pulled while John literally lifted Amy's rear end into the trailer.  We slammed the doors barely allowing my friend to escape.  We were all panting and the two of them looked beaten up.

It was a slow steady drive back home.  John repeatedly reminded me that if it didn't work out, she was going back.  He did not want her ruining our happy goat home.  I promised over and over to adhere to this rule although I was pretty sure I could get him to extend her time through begging and bargaining.  No matter how many times I break a bargain with him, he continues to trust me.  I love that about him.

When we got home John backed the trailer up against the removable fence panel on the side field.  It was starting to mist a little and I was worried I might not be able to get Amy out.  We unhooked the doors and opened them.  John stayed outside the fence while I looked in cautiously.  Amy was huddled in the front of the trailer.  We locked eyes.  She looked over my shoulder to freedom and I swear this is true: Two hundred and thirty pounds of flesh and wool jumped over my shoulder and cleared at least ten feet of earth before her hoofs hit the ground.

She ran like a cheetah to the farthest corner of the field and skidded to a halt at the fence line turning to face me over two hundred feet in the distance.  The rain came down that afternoon and into the night and into the next day but that is where she stayed.  She never moved in my presence.  This was not going well.

On the third day when the rain stopped I decided I would go into the field and meditate.  I had a timer that I could set for 30 minutes.  The goats watched me go into the field but did not follow.  I sat on a wet log and put my hands on my knees.  I breathed in deeply and tried to relax.  My timer chimed on the minute and I counted.  Every few minutes I would peek out of my right eye to see if she'd come any closer.

By the forth day I was bringing books into the field as I had meditated myself silly by then.  The goats, who were still weary of this enormous beast, weren't interested in following me out there so I could lie on my yoga mat and read unmolested.   It was very nice to relax, however, I was getting nervous about Amy's stay.  John reminded me once again that she would have to go back if she couldn't manage to integrate with the goats.

That afternoon just as I had decided to meditate one more time on the stump my mother and father-in-law drove down to the barn to take a look at the new addition.  I had noticed that she had crept a little closer to me over the morning, but the vehicle had her at a stand-still.  I explained to them that she was having a hard time adjusting to her new environment.  I told them her story as I knew it and her fate if she didn't fit in with the goats.  They said they were sorry it wasn’t working out and started to pull away from the fencing.

Amy started to move forward and with each foot they backed up, she moved closer.  We laughed about this and figured it was just curiosity in the car taking over.  But then she kept going.  Buttercup, the head goat, took notice and walked over to the fencing that separated to two of them.  Amy slowly continued to go forward.  We all held our breath and watched.  Once Amy was five feet away Buttercup raised her hackles and her head.  In response Amy bowed her head and took two steps back.  Buttercup relaxed and allowed Amy into the goat area.

Amy trotted right in like she had always lived there.  The adults and kid goats sniffed her from head to hoof.  I swear at that point she turned to me and winked! I think she might have understood what I had told my in-laws! 

Ever since that moment Amy has been just one of the goats, granted, at two hundred and thirty pounds, she is one hell of a big goat.  Even now, years later, she does not use her size to push around the others.  Although adopting Amy was not in our plan, she has bleated her way into our hearts.

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