Sheep

There is no dumber animal on the farm. While they are beautiful in the field, and relatively low on the maintenance scale, they’re horrible at affection. Like many of my previous relationships, they run away when I approach. All they want is food and when they get it, they don’t care any more about you. Even their children, the one’s you hand fed as babies, only want the hay. They don’t even have time for a pat on the head.

When you shear them, you would think you were killing them. I would’ve assumed shaving off about six inches of thick, hot wool from your body in April would be a good thing – almost orgasmic. And maybe it is for the sheep. We’ll just never know as their fear of being manhandled fills them with fear. Granted, I don’t shear them. As the going rate per sheep is $5, I’ll leave this farm chore to the professionals. For the same reason I don’t change my own oil in the car – someone already knows how to do it. And they need a paycheck.

I know there is someone out there that does have a healthy relationship with his or her sheep.  They’ll also probably disagree with my assessment of their intelligence. Just like someone is going to contend that living on a farm is the best thing that’s ever happened in his or her life. But remember, just because you say it doesn’t make it true. I may have some affectionate moments with one or two rams, but that’s the exception and not the rule.  After growing a flock for three years, I’m confident I have not met a dumber animal.