Giveth and Taketh

One thing you learn when you live a great deal closer to nature than "normal" people is that nature has its own balance. The circle of life exists and you cannot always prevent it from… well… circling.

Take for example what happened a few weeks ago.

I had been missing my rain gear for weeks. Months even. Most people don't have rain gear, but I can tell ya that life on a farm doesn't stop for rain. Or sleet. Or snow. Or blazing heat. (Mailmen and farmers. Keepin' it real.)

But for even a little hobby farm like this one, rain gear can make your chores a whooooole lot more comfortable! I am infamous ("We're more than famous, we're INfamous!" Name that movie!) for putting items in a "safe" place and not being able to find them. So went the rain gear. Which, to be honest, was fine. We went for months with nary a drop of water from the skies. It wasn't really missed (the gear. Trust me, everyone missed the rain!!!). And I knew I would happen upon the gear sooner or later. It's not like I live in a mansion.

Then one night I came upon them. I raised my eyes heavenward and said a "thank YOU!" And was a happy camper. I was even happier when, looking at the weather, I noticed rain in the forecast the next evening. When the rains came and I had to go out and do the evening chores, I donned my gear and sent up another thanks for the gift as I headed out with Stan into the gloomy, cold, wet, dark night to gather sheep and do the other nightly chores.

Putting the sheep in their respective stalls, I counted as I went. There are a set number for each stall, and I know how many I *should* have. When it came time to put the lambs up, I only counted five. There should be six. Drat!!! After a quick double check of the other stalls, I knew we had trouble. We were missing a lamb. Double drat!!!

I hate this part.

The only reason a lamb separates or doesn't come home with the group is because it can't. Either it got stuck somewhere, is sickly and just laid down to die, or something got it. None of those scenarios is something I like to witness.

The finding of the rain gear showed itself to be more of a gift than I had expected, and I sent yet another nod upwards of thanks for the reason for the gift of rain gear. I set out with Stan to see if we could find and save this lamb. Hopefully it was just stuck somewhere.

We walked the entire three acres in a downpour. First along the fences, then throughout the middle, trekking through dense brush and growth. I had just about given up. Stan had not alerted to any animals. I hadn't seen anything. I finally went another route and checked an extremely dense area from another angle outside the fence around the dense part and saw the lamb. I couldn't easily get to it but Stan did and when he nudged it I saw that it was, sadly, dead. Nothing to be done for it. Something had brought it down. I told it I was sorry, and went home, sad, wishing I had made a better bargain with the universe. I would've happily done chores in the rain without the gear to have the lamb back.

Life on the farm.