"Will there be girls?" he asked.
"Yes, lots of them," I said.
"There's lots of girls here but I never seem to get as many as I feel I need," he sad rather sadly.
Chickweed is very polite. Born into our first lambing season, his mother was our beloved Rosie and his father the infamous Joe Pye Weed. He was red, which always gets extra points in my heart.
"That's why you are going on this adventure, Chick, you're going to have your own girls," I told him.
He seemed to perk up. "No sharing with T or the new guy?" he asked.
"No, you can have sex in the fall and relax winter, spring and summer," I said.
And so we said farewell to Chickweed today. He is off to live at another small farm with a very kind couple with a small flock. It always helps to like the people who haul one of your first borns off. I learned after our first lambing season to distance myself from the lamb rams, but one always has soft spots, I mean I am human and Chickweed and I are both redheads. He witnessed my early shepherd abilities and probably was thankful to just be alive, and he let me learn how to do all those lambie things one has to do, all on the fly. He trusted me to doctor up his ear and never complained once. He never rammed me - now that's a compliment.
So this breeding season, I'll be thinking of him with his gentle expression as he is introduced to his own group of ladies. I know he will be a complete gentleman.
Part of small farming is moving with the shifts that are necessary to keep the farm healthy and vibrant and that means saying good bye to animals, especially rams. I'm so pleased he is going to live in a good place to get a day in the sun, as the man. Remember, Chickweed, say "please" and "thank you".
