Meanderings

They're everywhere when you're travelling around New Zealand. Fluffy slightly off white balls of cottonwool on spindly legs, masticating slowly and appearing completely devoid of thought.

One of the many things that gets me about these wool carriers is where they manage to get themselves. I had never realised before that mountain goat to sheep is a fairly close lollop on the evolutionary road. So the whole sheep clinging to the side of a steep hillside at a 45 degree angle to the ground, comfortably chewing to itself, came as a bit of a shock. But it really shouldn't have.

So I get that. I now understand that sheep can, and will, go anywhere in order to graze. What really gets me is the occasional Cow of the Mountain that you see. These giant milk machines, halfway up a mountain that would give Sir Edmund Hillary the willies, calmly cudding away. How the fuck do they get up there? How on earth do they get back down? Cow Helicoptor Rescue??

I think my favourite sheep behaviour is the startled response that they have to anything that isn't another sheep or grass or a hill. This was best shown when I was in the train from Auckland to Wellington. There'd be a mass of sheep, heads down, chomping away on the hapless grass, and then all of a sudden there's no more mass, they've scattered in a chaotic mix of running, leaping over invisible fences and pushing each other in the rush to get away from the train.

Amusing yes (because I'm sadistic and cruel). But even more amusing was when the pasture was not only fenced on one side by the train line, but on the other side by the highway. The action would unfold something like this:

Chewchewchew

Cudcudcud

Stare into distance.

Repeat.

"Shit! It's that noisy train shaped thing! Panic!!"

Trundletrundletrundle away from train shaped thing.

Screeching halt.

"Shit! It's those noisy car shaped things! Panic!!"

About turn.

Trundletrundletrundle away from car shaped things.

Screeching halt.

"Shit! It's that noisy train shaped thing! Panic!!"

About turn.

Trundletrundletrundle away from train shaped thing.

Screeching halt.

And so on. In the middle of all of this action would be a sheep who could not believe its' luck. It had just found the juiciest, nummiest, most cuddable patch of grass ever, and it's head down, grazing contentedly.

All the other sheep are still going with the trundletrundletrundle away from train shaped thing trundletrundletrundle away from car shaped things trundletrundletrundle away from train shaped thing etc.

The lucky sheep finally realises that something is going on. It looks up, mouth still chewing, grass sticking out the side. It sees the train. Its' eyes go wide. It sees the mass of sheep bearing down on it in their panicked run. Its' mouth falls open in shock, chewing forgotten, grass clinging to the lower lip.

The panicking sheep slow down and eventually come to a halt. They begin to whisper amongst themselves. "Hey, John there doesn't seem scared of either the noisy train or noisy car shaped things. He must be really brave." "Yeah." "Let's hide behind him!! He'll protect us!!" "Yeah!!" And with that, thirty sheep attempt to hide behind and under the one lucky sheep, who, startled expression still frozen on its' face, is slowly lifted up away from the luscious grass patch it had found, little legs waving slowly in the air, unknowing protector of the herd, grass patch sadly trampled forever more.

And thus, peace is restored to the rolling hills. Until the next time the train goes by.