Have you any wool?

The other day when I went out to my blackberry field forever, I slowed my car to a crawl to enjoy the sight of a wandering shepherd and his sheep, on a plot of grass off that crazy turny road. I remember he turned to my bright yellow car and smiled. I was grinning in delight at the charm of seeing shepherds and working dogs, a sight that is common to Germans, but not to my eyes.

Lovely. Except today. We went to walk our property line, and see how many posts we'll need to buy, and the shepherd and his 500 sheep were IN MY FIELD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was furious. Steaming. I was mad. I think my ears smoked. My man said, "You can go talk to him if you like, I'll watch." I said, "What is that? Why is he in our field?!"

Mr. S came out. My man said, "My wife is very surprised to see a shepherd and his sheep in our field." Mr. S explained, "Here's the deal. They can take their sheep to any field they like, as long as you don't forbid it, by placing a straw doll on a post."

A What-Huh!? I said, "Slow down. I'm freaking out here."

My man made some excuses for me, and we walked over to the field to visit the shepherd.

First of all I noticed how well he'd fit right in at a Renaissance Fair. He was a big burly man, and he wore a dark green wool coat that hung all the way to his feet like a dress. Over this woolen thing he wore a slicker in the shape of a robe, and it even had a chain string at his neck, holding it in place. He was leaning on a stick, and his two black dogs were tied to him. I know this cuz when we arrived, the sheep split like water, and a furry black dog loped happily to us, and the shepherd clipped the dog's chain to another chain that hung from under one of his cloaks, where the other mutt was tied.

The dogs were of no herding breed I'd ever seen. They were both mutts.

My man held out his hand. The shepherd took a big gnarly hand out of that woolen cloak and shook it. My man said, "Guten Tag. Wassermann is my name" and the shepherd said, "Oh! Mr. S told me about you - the new owners, a young couple, very nice people."

I was glaring at the 500 sheep and I turned to look at him. I could barely understand his dialect. I shook his hand and went back to sheep-staring. Did he say nice? NICE? Do I look nice? I'm nice, when there aren't 500 sheep on my new horse pasture!

My husband explained, "My wife has a horse, and that is why we bought this field. She is really in shock, that in this country of rules and regulations, people can bring their sheep onto anyone's land at will."

"Why yes we can. The sheep help the land. Some horse owners recognize this. The mice and moles are disturbed by sheep, and the sheep trim the grass under this snow to a nice, even level. It's healthy for pastures to be short in winter."

What? I pondered his claims.

One baby lamb stood in the middle of the flock and cried for his mother. It sounded like a human baby crying. I was touched. Where was the mother?

My man said, "Well, to be honest, I don't know much about pastureland, and we'd like to grow hay here, because it's way too much for one horse."

"Oh yes this grass will be above our heads in Springtime!"

My man and I were shivering in the cold. The shepherd was not suffering at all under all his shepherd gear. I looked at the sheep and they were completely comfortable in their thick wool - the world's best God-made material for horse and man (IMHO). I honestly thought to myself, "If your woolies are gonna be here eating our grass, can you shear one for me in April?"

A black baby lamb ran in front of us, leaping into the air, clearly exulting in the freezing cold air and soft snow. I noticed the sheep were all pawing the snow to reach mouthfulls of thick green grass. A black and white spotted baby drank from his mother and wringed his tail in circles joyfully. Cute overload, help!

The shepherd said, "Some horse people say that sheep aren't good for their pastures. Others call me up and ask when I'll be at their field next. It's up to you to decide. I won't stay here if you don't want me."

My man was polite, he said he didn't know what we'd do. I have no idea either. This sort of thing doesn't happen in America. Or at least, not where I've been.

That little white lamb kept calling his mother, and I wondered if he was an orphan.

I noticed at one point, some sheep wandered a little too close to the road, and the shepherd said some cross words in German, and the dogs at his side whined anxiously to be released. He must have yelled, "Don't make me turn my dogs loose" cuz the sheep turned right around.

Country living. I'm not used to it. Any opinions on whether sheep are good for pastures/hay fields or not would be appreciated. Next time I see him, I'll ask the man for a photo, cuz you guys really need to check out his medieval getup.