Ramses and the Nature of Sheep
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| Working with a couple of the sheep at Chaw Ti Village |
Rupert Nelson, fellow missionary colleague and a person I
saw as my friend was responsible for my education on the real character of
sheep. I guess he believed in hands-on training. As I’ve previously mentioned,
Rupert had been working to help establish sheep herds in several Karen
villages. A couple of those villages were in the Mae Sariang area. One was
Thung Phrow located just south of Mae Sariang town. Chaw Ti, was the other
village, north of Mae Sariang up a steep mountain road and took several hours of
rough driving to get there.
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| The pastor of the Chaw Ti church hoeing a hillside field. His wife was the main shepherd. |
gene pool, several rams, the male sheep, were rotated around the various herds in the different locations. As it happened, it was time to take the existing ram at Chaw Ti down to Thung Phrow and Rupert invited me to come along. Rupert had grown up with a variety of farm animals at his home farm, where as I had been raised in the suburbs. So needing an education on animal husbandry, I was happy to come along.
It was a smooth trip up to Chaw Ti’s gorgeous, mountain top
location. As I recall, it was the pastor’s wife that was the main shepherd. She
and the family had prepared a nice, small, fenced in pasture area for the sheep
on the mountain side where they could stay at night. During the day, the sheep
would be led out to graze and forage in the surrounding unfenced countryside.
This fenced in area was maybe a half mile from the pastor’s house by the trail,
but it was on the other side of a very steep, deep, narrow valley. The
relatively flat trail to reach the pasture, went around this valley as mountain
trails often do. So the pasture field was quite close and clearly visible as we
walked on the opposite valley wall even if the trail was longer.
As we walked around the valley, we could see the sheep
quietly grazing on the nice green mountainside just like we’d learned in Sunday
School. What a pastoral scene! I figured we’d walk up to the pasture, the
shepherd would quietly lead the ram to us, we’d take the ram’s rope and gently
lead him back to the village and the truck. All the while, the bluebirds would
flit around us and canaries would sing. Afterall, that’s how Disney cartoons of
my day would have pictured it!
After the half mile hike, we arrived at the bottom of the
pasture which was a lot steeper than it had looked from across the valley. The
sheep were all gathered staring at us with terror in their eyes. It turns out,
sheep are pretty smart. They knew something was up as soon as the shepherd
brought them into their little pasture in broad daylight. The sheep started
thinking;
“During the day, this
is the place where sheep were made to disappear by wicked humans!”
“Who is going to be disappeared today??”
“I don’t trust those strangers down there. They look
baaaaaaad!!!”
The shepherd had tried to get a rope around the ram’s neck,
but no luck. Now the ram (Let’s call him Ramses since he thought he was “King
of the Hill”) was upset and wanted no part of what ever it was that was going
on. Apparently, he was quite satisfied with his current harem and had no desire
to try out another one and we couldn’t talk him in to giving it a try.
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| Rupert Nelson talking about coffee with a group of Karen. |
To carry out Rupert’s plan, we went into sheep dog mode and
started to run all up, down and around the pasture trying to chase the sheep
into the little coral. We weren’t very good sheep dogs, but we ran, flailed our
arms, shouted and ran some more, while the pasture seemed to only grow in size
and steepness. Why did we always have to run uphill? Why is my heart beating so
fast? Why did the sheep so easily step aside and just watch us run around? Why
didn’t the sheep get tired? Would it be easier to turn the sheep into mutton
now?
I don’t remember the final tactic that worked, but someone eventually
got the rope around Ramses neck. Already exhausted (us, not Ramses), we began
leading him back to the village and the road. Unfortunately, even with the rope
around his neck, Ramses was not willing to give up his kingdom. He was not
going to be subdued! The trail going around the valley was only a foot or so
wide with a near vertical wall to the left, the foot wide trail we’re walking
on in single file, then a near vertical drop off to the right. The near
vertical downhill side of the slope also had numerous stumps sticking up where
the mountain had been cleared of small trees in the recent past. As I was to
soon learn, each stump was about 6 – 10 inches high and came to a not-so-dull
point at the top.
So, we’re walking along heading back to the village on the
narrow trail. Ramses feigned cooperation for a few minutes, but really, he was waiting
for the right time to make a run for it. Deciding it was time, he lurched to
the right trying to run down the mountainside but to no avail. The rope held
and we pulled him back up to the trail. A few steps later he tried again,
nearly hanging himself as he jumped and gagging as we pulled him back up. But
pull him up we did. A few steps later, he lurched off the trail yet a third
time. Was he suicidal? Was he really trying to hang himself? We pulled him up a
third time and carried on.
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| Some of the sheep at Thung Phrow having some lunch. |
convince him to stay on the trail. It would mean I’d have to walk on the steep slope below the trail, but with my ankles bent enough, I thought it was worth a try. So I tried it. I walked alongside Ramses with my leg just brushing his wool so he knew I was there. He lurched to try and hang himself again but my leg was there and he had to stay on the trail. A few steps later he tried again and I held him on the trail again. Ha! My plan was working and I was getting more confident, maybe even cocky!
He lurched and I held fast several times. Then, just as I
started to relax a little, I suddenly realized my feet were no longer on the
ground. In fact, in a moment of clarity like that only experienced in the midst
of a catastrophe, I realized my head was almost brushing the top of the grass
and my feet were straight up in the air. In another instant, I experienced
another moment of clarity as the back of my thigh landed on top of one of those
pointy tree stumps. It hurt. It hurt
bad. It was the kind of hurt where you just can’t move for a while.
So I laid there, but eventually decided I had to get up. I’d
landed a fair distance down the mountain side and everyone up on the trail was
just staring at me. I still don’t know exactly what happened and I’m not sure
anyone else really knew either. But apparently, Ramses had given me a royal head
butt and lifted me in just the right way so I’d done a cartwheel style, slow
motion, flip in the air, only to land on the stump. It was all I could do to
crawl back up to the trail and walk back to the village. It hurt for days, made
a hard spot on my thigh that went numb and stayed hard and numb for years.
The humiliating part is I know Ramses was gloating. He’d
gotten his revenge. After I made the mountain side high-dive, Ramses walked majestically,
but serenely the rest of the way and lived happily ever after in Thung Phrow
with his new harem. And I swear he had a smug, self-satisfied look on his face
as he watched me limp back to the village.
I suppose I can take some satisfaction in knowing he wound
up as stew at some point while I’m still kicking (even with my wounded leg). In
fact, I think the numb spot has even gone away now (It’s only taken 40+ years).
So thank you Ramses, for showing me the true nature of sheep. And thank you
Rupert Nelson for such memorable lessons in animal husbandry. Little did I
know, there were more lessons to come.
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