All That's Left of Walter...

I was so excited to get my new little ram lamb, Walter! Oh, what a cutie he was. Most of my sheep are naturally colored, meaning anything but white. Which is nice, and I like it, but I'd been wanting white so I could do some fun dying. And Walter was white.

Walter was a young icelandic, and at the tender age of 6 months he knew exactly what he was there for. The girls insisted on a bit of courting first, though...they insisted on knowing him at least 24 hours before allowing him to do his studly thing with them. And once he'd made the rounds, everyone was content.

I had a ewe named Dolly who used to get out quite a bit, and Walter realized if he stuck close to her backside he could follow along in her tailwind. So before too long, instead of just Dolly out roaming my front yard, Walter was there, too. Walter, unlike Dolly, began to get irritated with the routine of getting loose only to be put back into the pasture. He began to object. When a ram objects, you're in trouble, even a little ram. And this little ram had horns which were growing longer each day.

One day Walter and Dolly were out grazing near the barn, but of course on the outside of the fence, when I went out to feed. I went to get some hay to toss to the sheep on the inside when I noticed Walter staring at me. It wasn't a pleasant stare; it wasn't even a worried "Darn, she's caught us again" stare. No, this stare was a challenge; a dare; a "Go ahead, make my day" glare that I was receiving. I had in my hand the top of the grain can, which was just downright lucky as Walter lifted himself up on his back feet, then did what I've only seen the sheep on National Geographic do...he tucked his chin down to his neck and thrust himself forward towards me!

That was that. I don't need a mean, aggressive ram, especially one that's just seven months old! New fencing was in order, and I made certain that all the girls had been bred. Then I called my friends at the slaughter house and made arrangements for Walter to go to freezer camp.

We'd never eaten our own sheep before that. City Boy wanted to see what pepperoni would be like, so we had that and sausage made. Darling found the whole thing rather amusing (warped child that she is) and called it Wausage and Walteroni. She'd offer her friends Walteroni when they'd come to visit, and since these weren't kids raised on a farm (it is to a farm, City Boy!), they'd often gag, and we'd never see them again after that. I think it became a bit of a game to Darling, to see how many friends she could go through before running out of Walteroni.

City Boy decided we oughtn't waste that lovely head of Walter's, since he had such nice horns. He wanted to find someone to clean it up, but turns out it's a do it yourself type job. So City Boy took Walter's face out back and hung it in the trees by his horns. Yes, it was his face. The hide was still on that head, and the eyes were still in the skull. Disgusting, really. I don't recommend this for the weak stomach crowd. In fact, I don't recommend it at all.

Anyway, I wasn't really sure exactly where Walter was, just that he was hanging from a tree. One morning I walked back there with the dogs, who were busy chasing a coyote. I heard a little noise behind me and, camera in hand, thought I'd turn to find the dogs and their little friend. Instead I came face to face with Walter! Yuk! His eyes had sunken back into their sockets, and the hide was still on his skull, but a bit mangy looking. Totally gross! Be thankful I was too freaked out to take a picture. City Boy was dismayed to learn that Walter wasn't decomposing as quickly as he'd hoped, while I was left I wondering how many years I'd be stuck with the image of Walter's head swinging from a branch in my mind.

Once I knew where Walter was, I was sure to avoid him when I walked out back. But that didn't keep Walter from coming to me... One morning I got up after a huge windstorm and found one of the dogs with something in it's mouth. I called her up to the door to see what she had; it was one of Walter's horns! I ran out back to the tree to see the only thing left, the other horn still swinging from it's rope. The skull was no where to be found.

And that's all that remains of Walter...two horns, a host of bad memories and a couple packages of Walteroni!