Brown-One's reprieve

After watching the other male sheep banish Brown One to the elements during the last blizzard while they stayed snug in their shelter, we took pity on him and moved him into the ewes' winter paddock. At first I did not think this was going to go very well, either,

as our two oldest Shetlands, Ness and her daughter Foula, spent the first day chasing him away from the hay feeders. But after a day or so things settled down, and since then Brown One appears to be extremely content, even, I sometimes think when he looks at me, grateful. I often find him sunning himself just inside the barn, or chewing his cud contently, surrounded by the younger ewes. He is getting plenty to eat and his body condition has improved dramatically, now that he doesn't spend his days trying desperately to avoid Scuta's horns (they call them "rams" for a reason).

He is scheduled to go to the butcher next week. My job is to make sure that his quality of life is as good as it can be, and that when the time comes, his death is as good as it can be.