Rampage!

Well. Last entry, I said I would eat our animals with some difficulty and soul searching. That won't be the case for Gus, our ram. I will eat Gus gladly, I think. Gladly.

You see, he's getting in his own sort of fall spirit. Which means busting out of his stall while I am home alone with the kids (of course!) and refusing to go back to the barn. Yup, I'm not too proud to admit I was scared. This big horned thing comes walking up out of the dusk-lit orchard, a fine fall mist making the place looking all "The Hound of the Baskervilles". What else could I be? I was out tending chickens with Luka, when we spotted him. He charged, half-heartedly, and I yelled to the kids on the porch to stay inside. He followed me back toward the house then headed back to moon at the ewes. I stayed in after that. (Yup, wimpy) A few frustrating hours later, Dan came home and we (read: HE) managed to get Gus into a high security stall in the barn. Of course, Gus immediately commenced banging the walls in there. I can hear him now: "Thud..... Thud....". Hopefully, he won't break out. I don't care for a repeat of Tuesday, and really, there's nowhere else to put him. (I realize he just wants the ewes but we have other partners planned for them this year, and there's a good chance he'd hurt the ram lambs if we left him in with them. He is too used to being the one-and-only-head-honcho-big-boss-of-everything-ram.)

Duane, our barber, has offered to come help us first timers "dispatch" and, um, "process" Gus. (We've tried finding transport to our local "processor" but the schedules never worked out) So Sunday. Yep. We'll have just a little less testosterone out here on Maggie's farm. We've heard that ram (even Icelandic Ram) is best used for sausage and keilbasa so that's the plan. And I don't think I'll shed too many tears over Gus. At this point, I just want him out of here before somebody gets hurt!