Mommy, What's Happening?

The sheep are locked in the barn. They want to go out and graze but it's been raining on and off and shearers can't cut wet wool. I explain all this to them but they don't understand. We gave them bales of hay but nothing beats green grass. I turned out the lights so they would bed down. Tom Horton, a Vietnam Veteran and really good guy is coming, maybe with his son, a shearer in training the last time I saw him. Matt and I will have to work even faster if there are two shearers shearing. If I recall correctly, Tom does trim hoofs, usually my job. That will give me a couple of minutes to catch the next one, drag it to him, take the one that he's just sheared and give it shots and wormer in the mouth, then hustle to scoop up the wool and sweep off the platform for the next one. With a lot of sheep this can go on for hours. In a perfect world, and I read about people having this much help but I never have, there would be a team of helpers standing at a skirting table where they would pull out all the gnarly tags (sheep linger for pieces of manure), hay, burrs, and britch (the parts of the fleece at the bottom of the rear legs and thighs and belly wool. Only the good stuff would go in the bag. I have to sort it out later. I'm excited about all the beautiful wool I will have to play with!