Beautiful Joe [96]
my lambs in the spring and often get up in the night to look after them.
That night I went out about two o'clock. I took it into my head, for some reason
or other, to count them. I found a sheep and lamb missing, took my lantern and
Bruno, who was some good at tracking sheep, and started out. Bruno barked and I
called, and the foolish creature came to me, the little lamb staggering after
her. I wrapped the lamb in my coat, took it to the house, made a fire, and
heated some milk. Your Aunt Hattie heard me and got up. She won't let me give
brandy even to a dumb beast, so I put some ground sugar, which is just as good,
in the milk, and forced it down the lamb's throat. Then we wrapped an old
blanket round him, and put him near the stove, and the next evening he was ready
to go back to his mother. I petted him all through April, and gave him extras
different kinds of meal, till I found what suited him best; now he does me
credit."
"Dear little lamb," said Miss Laura, patting him, "How can you tell him from the
others, uncle?"
"I know all their faces, Laura. A flock of sheep is just like a crowd of people.
They all have different expressions, and have different dispositions."
"They all look alike to me," said Miss Laura.
"I dare say. You are not accustomed to them. Do you know how to tell a sheep's
age?"
"No, uncle."
"Here, open your mouth, Cosset," he said to the lamb that he still held. "At one
year they have two teeth in the centre of the jaw. They get two teeth more every
year up to five years. Then we say they have 'a full mouth.' After that you
can't tell their age exactly by the teeth. Now, run back to your mother," and he
let the lamb go.
"Do they always know their own mothers?" asked Miss Laura.
"Usually. Sometimes a ewe will not own her lamb. In that case we tie them up in
a separate stall till she recognizes it. Do you see that sheep over there by the
blueberry bushes the one with the very pointed ears?"
"Yes, uncle," said Miss Laura.
"That lamb by her side is not her own. Hers died and we took its fleece and
wrapped it around a twin lamb that we took from another ewe, and gave to her.
She soon adopted it. Now, come this way, and I'll show you our movable feeding
troughs."
He got up from the log, and Miss Laura followed him to the fence. "These big
troughs are for the sheep," said Mr. Wood, "and these shallow ones in the
enclosure are for the lambs. See, there is just room enough for them to get
under the fence. You should see the small creatures rush to them whenever we
appear with their oats, and wheat, or bran, or whatever we are going to give
them. If they are going to the butcher, they get corn meal and oil meal.
Whatever it is, they eat it up clean. I don't believe in cramming animals. I
feed them as much as is good for them, and not any more. Now, you go sit down
over there behind those bushes with Joe, and I'll attend to business."
Miss Laura found a shady place, and I curled myself up beside her. We sat there
a long time, but we did not get tired, for it was amusing to watch the sheep and
lambs. After a while, Mr. Wood came and sat down beside us. He talked some more
about sheep-raising; then he said, "You may stay here longer if you like, but I
must get down to the house. The work must be done, if the weather is hot."
"What are you going to do now?" asked Miss Laura, jumping up.
"Oh! more sheep business. I've set out some young trees in the orchard, and
unless I get chicken wire around them, my sheep will be barking them for me."
"I've seen them," said Miss Laura, "standing up on their hind legs and nibbling
at the trees, taking off every shoot they can reach."
"They don't hurt the old trees," said Mr. Wood; "but the young ones have to be
protected. It pays me to take care of my fruit trees, for I get a splendid crop
from them, thanks to the sheep."
"Good-bye, little lambs and dear old sheep," said Miss Laura, as her uncle
opened the gate for her to leave the pasture. "I'll
That night I went out about two o'clock. I took it into my head, for some reason
or other, to count them. I found a sheep and lamb missing, took my lantern and
Bruno, who was some good at tracking sheep, and started out. Bruno barked and I
called, and the foolish creature came to me, the little lamb staggering after
her. I wrapped the lamb in my coat, took it to the house, made a fire, and
heated some milk. Your Aunt Hattie heard me and got up. She won't let me give
brandy even to a dumb beast, so I put some ground sugar, which is just as good,
in the milk, and forced it down the lamb's throat. Then we wrapped an old
blanket round him, and put him near the stove, and the next evening he was ready
to go back to his mother. I petted him all through April, and gave him extras
different kinds of meal, till I found what suited him best; now he does me
credit."
"Dear little lamb," said Miss Laura, patting him, "How can you tell him from the
others, uncle?"
"I know all their faces, Laura. A flock of sheep is just like a crowd of people.
They all have different expressions, and have different dispositions."
"They all look alike to me," said Miss Laura.
"I dare say. You are not accustomed to them. Do you know how to tell a sheep's
age?"
"No, uncle."
"Here, open your mouth, Cosset," he said to the lamb that he still held. "At one
year they have two teeth in the centre of the jaw. They get two teeth more every
year up to five years. Then we say they have 'a full mouth.' After that you
can't tell their age exactly by the teeth. Now, run back to your mother," and he
let the lamb go.
"Do they always know their own mothers?" asked Miss Laura.
"Usually. Sometimes a ewe will not own her lamb. In that case we tie them up in
a separate stall till she recognizes it. Do you see that sheep over there by the
blueberry bushes the one with the very pointed ears?"
"Yes, uncle," said Miss Laura.
"That lamb by her side is not her own. Hers died and we took its fleece and
wrapped it around a twin lamb that we took from another ewe, and gave to her.
She soon adopted it. Now, come this way, and I'll show you our movable feeding
troughs."
He got up from the log, and Miss Laura followed him to the fence. "These big
troughs are for the sheep," said Mr. Wood, "and these shallow ones in the
enclosure are for the lambs. See, there is just room enough for them to get
under the fence. You should see the small creatures rush to them whenever we
appear with their oats, and wheat, or bran, or whatever we are going to give
them. If they are going to the butcher, they get corn meal and oil meal.
Whatever it is, they eat it up clean. I don't believe in cramming animals. I
feed them as much as is good for them, and not any more. Now, you go sit down
over there behind those bushes with Joe, and I'll attend to business."
Miss Laura found a shady place, and I curled myself up beside her. We sat there
a long time, but we did not get tired, for it was amusing to watch the sheep and
lambs. After a while, Mr. Wood came and sat down beside us. He talked some more
about sheep-raising; then he said, "You may stay here longer if you like, but I
must get down to the house. The work must be done, if the weather is hot."
"What are you going to do now?" asked Miss Laura, jumping up.
"Oh! more sheep business. I've set out some young trees in the orchard, and
unless I get chicken wire around them, my sheep will be barking them for me."
"I've seen them," said Miss Laura, "standing up on their hind legs and nibbling
at the trees, taking off every shoot they can reach."
"They don't hurt the old trees," said Mr. Wood; "but the young ones have to be
protected. It pays me to take care of my fruit trees, for I get a splendid crop
from them, thanks to the sheep."
"Good-bye, little lambs and dear old sheep," said Miss Laura, as her uncle
opened the gate for her to leave the pasture. "I'll