Monday, July 11, 2011

I did it my way

I’m always a little hesitant to give names to our sheep.  What happens if it doesn’t work out?  It’s a little awkward to serve up a meal that used to have a name.  Even if it’s a name like Christmas Dinner or LambChops.  But sometimes you just can’t help it.

I commented earlier in the ram that wasn’t that we needed a real ram.  Where on earth was I going to find one?  Suddenly I had the answer.  I would “work from home” one Friday and buy one at the weekly Clareville stock sales right here in the Wairarapa.  It’s quite an experience.  You can buy all kinds of animals there.  Lambs, calves, piglets, sheep dogs.  The works.  There are some good bargains there if you know what you’re looking for.  I didn’t manage to get what I wanted, just like last time when I ended up with the ram that wasn’t.  But this time I did meet a farmer who could sell me a real ram.

I turned up to pick up my new farmyard stud.  Now a bit of background about New Zealanders: we are good at understating things.  So I knew when the farmer told me “he was a bit feisty” I knew to expect something bad.  I had a sneaky suspicion that this guy saw me coming.

My new ram threw a tantrum while being brought into the yards.  He head-butted a metal gate, gashing his head in the process. But you should have seen the gate – it was buckled, seriously.  The farmer sprayed the cut with some bright blue iodine solution to sterilise the wound.

So we had a punk ram with anger issues.  I broke the “don’t name your animals” rule yet again.  And Sid Vicious had a new home in Greytown.

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