Number 11's Story
Number 11
A
Sheep's
Tale
By Bruce Knox
This story is copyright 2005
All things have a
#Beginning and Number 11's story began on Thursday 8th of April 1993. On
that day I picked up an old Hampshire ram from a farm on Circle Hill. His
ear tag proclaimed him to be "Moneymore 537/87" showing that he was almost 6
years old. I prefer friendly names and this fellows large size and straight
back inspired me to call him "Horse".
That same day he was put into the Valley Paddock where the ewes awaited him.
He stayed with them until early July.
During this time he introduced himself to a young ewe called "Blue 5". She
was a coloured Romney with a lovely silver grey fleece. Romance blossomed
during the cool autumn nights.
Winter followed without much event and on the 5th of September, a cold wet
morning, Blue 5 gave birth to a strong female lamb.
As normal the lamb was left to bond with her mother for a couple of days
before being caught so I could put a ring on her tail and a tag in her
ear.
The tag was white and read
LV
11
"Number 11" had been named!
She grew to maturity with her half sisters but did not stand out from the
crowd. She was just another sheep.
She became a good mother herself and raised several good lambs before
trouble struck.
It was 1997 when I went out to check the sheep after work one evening and
found Number 11 cast in the Far Paddock. She was firmly stuck on her side
and the muddied ground showed she had been that way for some time.
When I stood her up she was stiff down the left side and her whole body
curved where the muscles had gone into spasm. She did stand however and I
left her in the hope she would recover.
The next morning she was again on her side and unable to stand. Again I
stood her up and watched as she tried a few stiff-legged steps. I left her
knowing there was little hope for her recovery as sheep in her situation
often never recover.
That evening when I came home she was cast yet again.
It was tempting to give up but something made me persist. This time when I
stood her up I placed hay bales on either side of her. The idea was to
allow circulation to return and muscles to strengthen while she was held
upright. Since it was some time since she had eaten I drenched her with a
sugar solution to give her energy.
This routine continued for two more days.
Unable to move during the day, her faeces and urine attracted flies to her
damp wool. Maggots followed.
As well as the twice daily standing up, propping up
with hay bales and dosing with sugar solution I had to add a maggot search
and use insecticide
spray.
It took about two weeks but eventually she stood on her own and again
joined the rest of the flock.
Just another sheep?
This routine continued for two more days.
Unable to move during the day, her faeces and urine attracted flies to her
damp wool. Maggots followed.
As well as the twice daily standing up, propping up
with hay bales and dosing with sugar solution I had to add a maggot search
and use insecticide
spray.
It took about two weeks but eventually she stood on her own and again
joined the rest of the flock.
Just another sheep?
This routine continued for two more days.
Unable to move during the day, her faeces and urine attracted flies to her
damp wool. Maggots followed.
As well as the twice daily standing up, propping up
with hay bales and dosing with sugar solution I had to add a maggot search
and use insecticide
spray.
It took about two weeks but eventually she stood on her own and again
joined the rest of the flock.
Just another sheep?
She did immediately stand out in one way.
The fly strike had damaged her tail and left her with a form of paralysis
in that region.
She became known as "Floppy Bot" to those that observed her.
Not only was her physical appearance changed but her attitude to people
also changed.
People were no longer placed in a threat category but were classed as
'Almost Sheep'.
During the past few years when I opened a gate to a new paddock she would
be the first there to investigate and would lead the flock through.
Number 11 had become a leader.
Life continued at Little Valley and with the passage of
time Number 11 became friendlier.
At first a piece of bread would entice her to come close, stamping her
foot in a defiant way until it was thrown to her.
Before long she would come right up and take the bread from my hand, still
with a defiant stamp of the foot.
This progressed into a search of anybody entering the paddock just in case
they had a bit of bread hidden about them. Pockets were nuzzled. Trousers
were nipped. Jackets were tugged.
As always this was accompanied by the stamp of a foot.
Number 11 is now more than 11 years old. That is old for a sheep. She
still comes running for bread but the stamp on the ground is lighter to
allow for old bones.
This last winter she became thin and frail. Leadership of the flock has
passed to younger sheep but at times even they still pause and let her go
first.
I cherish the nibble on the trousers and laugh at the gentle stamp of a
hoof. I fear it wont last much longer.
Addendum:
On the morning of 6th April 2005 a frail Number 11 accepted a few willow
leaves from my hand and seemed to enjoy eating this treat.
Later that morning she quietly died.
Goodbye Number 11.
I miss you.
