Temperatures warmed and rain fell overnight. Water from the rain and melting snow couldn't soak into the frozen ground. It congregated in the low-lying areas before flowing to drainage ditches, streams and rivers.
Mid-morning, when I looked out my office window, I saw the sheep, standing in a line and looking off to the five-acre pasture where the grass is greener, tastier, taller.
Between the sheep and nirvana was an impromptu stream.
The sheep waited for one minute, two, three.
Few natural defenses have made sheep cautious animals. They don't like dark places. They don't like the unknown. They certainly don't like water crossings.
Llamas are less fearful. Llambert the Llama and his long legs approached the stream, then proceeded through it.
The sheep waited as he strode toward the pasture.
Were they waiting for some delayed danger? Or, were they waiting for their leader, Good Mom, to step from the middle of the flock, place her nose to the water, and walk through?
Once she crossed, the others followed single file.
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