The Meanderings of an Overheated Brain

It was a blistering hot day filled with barn cleaning, hoof trimming and lamb wrestling.  Once a year Farm Buddy and I have to get together to manhandle the lambs and castrate all the males.  We opted to skip this procedure once and we both swore never, ever again.  Having 12-15 rowdy ram lambs running loose around the farm, wreaking havoc, fighting and trying to hump anything and everything, whether it moves or not, is an experience we do not wish to repeat.

So, once a year, we herd all the sheep into a pen and set about capturing the lambs.  Catching lambs is a bit like catching fish by wading out into a pool full of fish and grabbing them with your bare hands.  The lambs swirl around, leaping and flashing in a confusing woolly whirlpool. Unlike the fish, there is also a great deal of dust and sweat.  I find that the best way to catch them is to slowly wade into the fray and then grab one as it whizzes by.

It's too bad no one was around with a camera because it was probably quite a sight.

Katarina was kicked out for this job and she was some mad at us for abusing her sheeps.

She paced around outside the windows humming her protest and watching us like a hawk

She would have dearly liked to spit at us.

"Free my sheeps!"

We like to do this job when the lambs are still quite small because....well, not to be indelicate, but - sheep have the most absurdly large testicles of any animal on the farm.  A four month old lamb could make a 2000 lb bull blush with shame if they actually cared about that sort of thing.

The problem is, this is a job that is very easy to procrastinate about and lambs grow really fast.  I mean really, who wouldn't want to spend a hot, dusty, chaotic hour chasing and castrating lambs???

Us, apparently.

This is not a job that gets easier with time tough.  Let's just say that: the bigger they are, the harder they fall.  Today was the day.

Sheep are not exactly renowned for their bravery, strength, intelligence or fortitude and, every year, I find myself pondering exactly why so many men seem to think there is a correlation between any of these traits and scrotal size.  We've all heard the comments of course:

....He must have a set of big ol'e brass ones...
....Wow, that guy sure has got a set....
....Grow a pair!...
....He has got the biggest....

The oddity and foreignness of the male psyche is baffling.

And...given the way this blog post has veered sooooo far afield, my brain clearly got overheated today.  Time to call it a night.