Before I met actual sheep, I did my research. I read multiple texts, hard cover and on-line, as well as many different blog posts. When I’d get past the “Fencing” and “Parasite” sections, I’d arrive at this line that always began the “Behavior” sections:  Sheep are prey animals.  This, I assumed, said it all, although in my totally uninformed judgment, it seemed like a statement too obvious to actually make.  What I had forgotten was that the problem with those of us overly trained in the art of text research is that we tend not to talk to actual people, who, in my case, would have been sheep owners. Had I done so, I probably would have learned what it actually looks like to share space with a prey animal. As it is, and now that I’m actually sharing space with prey animals, I’m learning so much more than that single line could ever convey. Most of my learning times have taken place in the morning when I go out to the Little Barn with a cup of coffee and sit with our flock of three ~ Coffee with Sheep, I call it.

Mary

Mary has come into her own as the leader of our little flock. Both Cricket and Bella  are her children, yet when she first arrived, she was the one who would be the first to bolt when I’d shift my weight from one foot to the other.  Because of this, I was always puzzled when, after I’d sit down with my coffee and be still for a few minutes, Mary would be the one who would slowly walk to my left side and lay down right next to me, her head to the wall.  I’d slowly reach down and stroke her back and tell her how beautiful she was and what her day might bring.  

As time passed, Mary became more and more confident. She would stand in front of me, with her head resting heavy on my thigh, letting me finger-comb the pine shavings from her wool.  One day, she actually pushed Cricket away, placing herself between me and him. Hmm…in canine language, that’s a purely possessive move. Did it mean the same for sheep? I couldn’t find an answer, but I intend to keep searching because I now have many more questions.  For example,…

Vega and I were out on walk-about recently, and Vega went up to the Little Pasture’s fence as usual to say hi to her friend, Cricket.  She and Cricket touched noses and calmly munched a few blades of grass together, while Mary stood about 8 feet away, watching.  Suddenly, Mary charged the fence, stopped two feet away, reared up on her back legs and slammed both hooves down on the ground in front of Vega. She backed up immediately and stared for a minute before walking away.  

So, in the world of text-research, this is a bit of a twist. Charging a sheep-herding Australian Shepherd that weighs the same as you do doesn’t seem to be prey-behavior. It seems to be “Momma-Tiger” behavior ~ a claim to territory, perhaps, or a warning not to mess with her children. Clearly, Mary knew what she was saying and said it loudly. Now if I could just figure it out…

Cricket

Cricket has always been the extrovert of the three.  When he and I first met, he put his head on my shoulder and gently breathed into my neck. Now, he seems to be totally at home, and his movements can be so obviously filled with complete joy that I laugh out loud at some of his antics.  For example, Cricket loves to fly through the air, especially first thing in the morning.  After I finish my coffee and we’ve all cuddled for a bit, I’ll slowly stand up and move to the barn door that leads to the pasture.  Mary’s ready to leave first, with Bella closely behind.  It doesn’t really matter where Cricket is because as soon as the door is open and there’s a clear space beside me, Cricket will soar past me, legs tucked up and under him, his head reaching above mine, his body a whisper of a brush against me.  He’ll clear the ramp that leads to the pasture by at least three feet and hit the ground running.  When he finally stops, I’ll hear a triumphant “BAAAAA!”  

He will also hop across the pasture to see me or Vega on the other side. Actually hop, but not like a rabbit hops.  All four of Cricket’s hooves come off the ground at the same time, propel him forward a foot or two, land under him, push off, propel him forward…all the way across the field. Then he head butts the fence where Vega is calmly munching grass. I’ve read that head-butting can mean either dominance or play, but like with Mary, I do wonder if they realize that Vega is a herding dog. Maybe the fence helps everyone feel relaxed and in charge? Hmm…

Bella

The baby of the group is growing up into what seems to be the sheep version of a teenager.  This morning, she actually head-butted Mary! Here’s what happened: I have this very large hair pick that I purchased right after I saw how the pine shavings in their play area in the barn sticks to their wool. I’ve been combing Bella in little bits every morning that I have coffee with them, and now she’s used to it.  She comes to me, puts her head right into my outstretched hand, and just stands while I flick off the night’s collection of pieces of pine.  I’ve learned through the years that grooming animals is one of the best ways to deepen trust and friendship, and it seems to be true with sheep as well.  They all like their grooming time. This morning, though, Mary seemed to think Bella was done, so she moved right into Bella’s space and shoved her out of the way.  Bella, apparently, wasn’t done, so she head-butted Mary. Then I stood up, and that ended that. Coffee with sheep time was over for the day.

So what have I learned through all this? I’ve learned that observation-research and hands-on learning is far and away more informative and fulfilling at this point in my life  than text research. I’ve learned that for me, the key to developing relationships with members of any species is time spent with each one. I’ve learned that relationships with prey animals are right up there with yoga and meditation for stress relief ~ deep breathing, stillness, slow intentional movement…Mountain pose to Warrior I or Coffee with Sheep. What a great choice to be able to make!