hostess gift and I took the leaves off the thick part of the stalks. Normally, I sauté the stalks with onion for a while and then add the leaves, plus some cubed potatoes – oh, it’s a meal that way –but today I thought I might give the stalks to the sheep. They crunched them right up.
Then, little Coffee started to stomp his foot at me. Did that twice. Foot-stomping is the first step from “Ram-Boy” to “Rambo”. It means, “I am going to charge at you!”, so the
shepherd has to clarify quickly who is boss (the shepherd, hopefully). And that you do by flipping the ram on his back. So, I did that, and stood over him for good measure, looked down at the little guy lying there with all four legs up in
the air, and I GRRROWWWLLED!! It was a good one. Would probably scare away a bear. Then I bellowed, “CRRGHOFFEE! I’GRR-AM DA GRRBOSS!! GRRH-REMEMBER THAT!” He looked up at me, totally aghast and agog. And got the message. He only got back on his feet when I let him.
And after that little interaction the little guy would not look me in the eye. Just as the subordinate soldier will never look a superior in the eye. That is good because it show submission, even though it makes me sad. I love coffee. In Coffee’s world, however, one is either one-down or one-up. There is no being at the same level. So I have to be the one who is one-up if I don't want to be head-butted and bossed around.
Another shepherd who writes about his experiences apparently looks menacingly at his acting-up rams and visualizes them as lamb chops and sausage, and he swears that the change in his attitude communicates itself to the rams, because they back down.
And you thought life on the farm was peaceful, and farmers peace-loving folk.