by Wendy V. Smith (originally written January 2011)
From 1956 to 1968, I lived on a farm in rural Ontario with my mother Joan, father Lloyd, my older brother Wayne and my two older sisters, Carol and Donna. We had cows, pigs, sheep, lots of cats and Buster the dog. Every spring, everyone helped Mom and Dad plant a massive vegetable garden. Family roles were very defined then: I helped Mom in the kitchen while Wayne helped Dad with the farm chores. That being said, Wayne loved cooking and baking and learning how to do all the things Mom did. In fact, when Wayne got married, his wife Rita took up cross-stitch because it was the ONLY thing Wayne didn’t know how to do already. Wayne even quilted.
One spring day, when we were little, Wayne and I decided visit the sheep grazing in the field to find any new lambs that had been born during the night. This is a story I remember….
“You kids be careful!” Mom warned. “The ewes don’t like people around their babies and they especially won’t like Buster being around them.” But I tagged behind my big-brother-hero who was fearless.
Wayne opened the gate and led the way into the field, commanding Buster to stay close. Buster was a beautiful orange marmalade coloured collie mongrel with a husky nose and curled up tail.
“Here Lammy, Lammy,” I called as I got closer to the flock. Lammy was a lamb that I had “adopted” as my pet much to the dismay of Dad. In the flock of about 30 sheep and lambs, Lammy was difficult to spot. Most sheep were all-white while some were white with black faces and black legs. Wayne and I walked further into the field when we spotted a new black-faced lamb.
I was so excited to suddenly spot a new born lamb with a black face, I completely forgot Mom’s warning and the danger. I started running towards the lamb, shouting, “Here Black-face! Here Black-face!”
Too late, I heard Wayne shouting, “RUN!”
I turned to look and, sure enough, a large black-faced ewe was charging towards me. My little legs could not move fast enough. My heart was pounding. Wayne could run faster. He was already at the gate. In my head I heard a mixture of Wayne’s yelling, Mom’s warning and the clunk-clunk of hooves at my heels.
Then it came – the sharp pain as the ram’s head hitting my bum . Flattened, face to the ground, I could feel the sharp heavy hooves tramping across my back. Screaming and crying at the same time, I was frozen with fear and couldn’t move. No matter how Wayne shouted to me to get up and run, I just laid there waiting to be gobbled up by the angry sheep.
Then a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me up. Wayne had come back to save me. Together we made it back through the gate and headed towards the house, to be met by our anxious mother wondering what all the screaming and yelling was about.
Lesson learned.