Four Legs Beat Two 🧑‍🌾🐑

I hope I don’t eat my words on this one.

Thursday morning started with one of those mistakes you know you made the night before. All that slushy snow from Wednesday had frozen solid overnight. I knew I should’ve plowed the drives and shoveled a few paths before the freeze.

But I didn’t.

Not because I ran out of time…

I ran out of ambition.

Wednesday was a long one. Anne and I spent the whole day in the barn pregnancy-checking ewes, then sorting and weighing lambs for the processor first thing Thursday morning. By the time we were done, I figured I’d deal with the snow later.

Thursday morning made sure I remembered.

Right off the hop, I got the truck and loaded trailer stuck trying to leave the barnyard. Not buried—just stuck enough to be annoying and humbling. After a bit of coaxing, and maybe some choice words, I finally got rolling… albeit a little late.

I got home, grabbed a quick bite of breakfast Anne had made for me, warmed up for a minute, then headed back up to the barn to do morning chores.

It was cold. One of those sharp, damp winter colds that creeps right through you. I was bundled up like a kid waiting for the school bus in January—layers, hood pulled tight, hands jammed into my pockets whenever I could.

After filling the feed bunks, I noticed one group of ewes hadn’t come out to eat yet. So I headed back to bring them down the run from the barnyard to the front field where their feed bunks are.

That’s when I realized the path was a frozen, lumpy minefield of snow and ice.

I crept along, very aware of how falling was going to feel the next day.

I rounded up the ewes and started back out, them all following behind me like they usually do. I’ll admit, I was worried one of them could slip and break a leg. But it was cold, and I kept thinking about empty bellies and the need for good feed to keep them warm. I’ve heard enough bad stories about cows and horses going down on ice to make a guy uneasy—and here I was, asking them to walk across it anyway.

So off we went.

As I carefully shuffled along, with the ewes patiently waiting behind the slow old human, it finally clicked.

They’ve got four legs.

I’ve only got two.

And while I was bundled up like I was heading for the North Pole, they were standing there in their thick wool coats, perfectly fine. No shivering, no drama. Just steady, sure-footed steps across the ice like it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Sure enough, they were calm and confident the whole way. Even a few of our older ladies—the ones I worry about a bit more—made it out without any trouble at all.

Just one of those little moments where the sheep quietly reminded me they’re built for this…

and I probably should stop worrying so much.

Farmer Rod 🐑