I was backing out of the garage this morning when a pickup blocked my path. A man jumped out and said, "Hey, do you have sheep? They are in town." He gave a street name where they had last been seen, but it didn't ring a bell.
I called Bob, put on boots, grabbed a bucket of corn, and ran to the pasture. My cries were lost in the wind. No sign of our 40 ewes anywhere.
Bob arrived from the vet clinic and we drove into town, scanning streets. There are so many new developments, houses, and streets south of our 22-acre pasture, it's almost like being in maze. Finally we spotted the flock behind a house. The homeowner had watered his lawn to a lush green. Our pasture is the color of wool, thanks to drought, so the grass literally is greener on the other side of the fence. If the fence has a hole, there goes the flock.
Bob got out of the truck and called the ewes, rattling the bucket of corn. They followed him back to the pasture and are now locked behind the barn for winter. We have a new project for the fall: Build new fence behind the pond.
This was our pasture in 2011 -- a normal rainfall year. There is nothing green there this year.