I drove past the turn-off, first time around. Some muttered swearing to myself, then a place to turn around, backtracking, and aha! There it was… I pulled in through the gate, over a grid with a rattle and a thump. I parked under a tree, and stepped out onto the lawn. There were roosters everywhere, dozens and dozens of them, plumed tails iridescent in the sun, posturing, stretching out their necks to crow, strutting, squabbling here and there. I was bemused. I\’d never before seen so many roosters in one place. I wandered over to the house and gave a yell \”ANYONE HOME?\”
Silence was my answer. I knew I was here to see a sick sheep, and I could see one over in the yards. All I had to do was to give it an injection of antibiotics, but I\’d been told that someone would be there to help me. I walked over to the shed, calling out again, but still no answer. I could see the sheep, down on his chest, panting a bit. And in the paddock were three bulls. What was it with all of these male animals? Very strange.
Suddenly a man popped up, as if out of nowhere.
\”There you are!\” he said, as a smile fleeted across his face. \”I\’ve been waiting for you. Did you see the sheep? He\’s a lot better, he was flat out on his side yesterday, and today he\’s able to sit up for himself.\”
\”I can see that,\” I replied with a smile.
I went back to the car, collected the antibiotics and drew them up in a syringe, chatting away to the fellow as I did. We went back to the shed, climbed through the gate into the yard, and I carefully injected the penicillin into the sheep\’s rump muscle – drawing back once the needle was in to make sure that it hadn\’t accidentally hit a vein. Then I squeezed the thick white fluid gently in, though the sheep grunted and wriggled a bit in protest.
\”Has he been eating and drinking?\” I asked.
\”Just starting to have a bit of a nibble, and yes, he has drunk a bit.\”
\”Those are good signs,\” I said. \”We\’ll be back tomorrow to give him his next injection – will you be here?\”
\”No, but there will be another bloke who works for me here – I have to head off now though, I have to get to work.\”
He trotted off, the sea of roosters swirling about his feet as I packed up and got back into the car to head back to the clinic. I found out later from the staff there that he just couldn\’t bear to kill anything, and that castrating any animal was also too painful to even consider!