The farmer who owns the old sheep is coming to pick them up today, coming to take them out in two loads. They are heading back to his farm, some will be bred again, others to slaughter. They have gone through my back pasture pretty thoroughly and the grass there is getting low. A number of them have gotten sick and disoriented. And Maria and I are up to our neck in work and moving plans. It’s time for them to go home. I have mixed feelings about their leaving.

I am pleased they had a last summer on grass. I am relieved that they are going. They take a lot of watching, moving around. Many stumble and fall. A few have been lost up on the hill. Others seem to be getting confused, losing the flock, wandering off. The rythyms of life are important, sacred even on any farm, in any life with animals. In the real world, animals like sheep do not get no-kill lives, do not get to paradise, not in this life at least.

The old sheep taught me a lot. I was touched by their connection to one another, their instinct for comforting each other. Their faces and postures were poignant, beautiful, evocative. They were very beautiful to photograph. It is time for them to move on and for me to move on.