Blood In The Snow

I pause and sit on a downed, dead will that should have been taken care of 2 years ago.  I am observing the flock for imminent labor to avoid another loss in this 20 + below weather we're experiencing in March.  Unprecedented  in the almost 25 years I've been raising sheep.  With all of the many things that can happen when raising animals, no one and nothing is a match to Mother Nature.

Listening to the sounds around me, Chris cussing in the distance as he loads buckets of water into the tractor for me and my animals, the dogs howling in the house because this time they weren't allowed to tag along ......ahhhhh.....Serenity! 

And then a lone chickadee appears and lands in the red snow, pecking at the afterbirth left behind by a disconsolate ewe.  The ewe bleats and then eats, looking for her lambs to no avail.  The chickadee brings me hope in this mass accumulation of snow.  He flits from the ground to the barn, then to branch and the ground again.  He seems ever-cheerful and I have to wonder if a chickadee ever has a bad day.  It's 25 below and he's here to make an appearance as if to give me a sign or maybe many signs.  His energy and exuberance is enlightening.  His resilience is downright amazing.

Making a mental plan to check them again in 20 minutes instead of the 2 hour schedule I was on, I scan the flock again and decide it's time to go back in and deal with with 2 dead lambs in the bathtub.