Counting Sheep

Not long ago, my father came across an advertisement in a country-living magazine for "miniature babydoll southdown lambs." The ad caught his attention because he used to show southdown lambs when he was in 4-H back in the late 50's and early 60's.

My dad loved showing his lambs. I've seen the pictures of his Southdown sheep ... short and woolly. They looked so cuddly compared to the long, lanky, goaty look of the Suffolk sheep I showed when I was a 4-H member.

We talked, my dad and I ... we remembered lambs and showing and the work involved taking care of sheep. My dad wondered what a "babydoll" southdown sheep was, and we guessed that perhaps the miniature babydoll southdowns must be very tiny indeed.

My curiousity got the best of me, after that conversation. I spent an entire day researching babydoll southdowns, as well as other breeds of sheep, on the internet. I gazed at pictures of the sweet lamb faces, and found myself missing the smell of the show barn at the Louisiana state fair. I remembered shearing them and feeding them. It brought back happy memories of special moments shared with my brother and sister and father. And suddenly, I found myself wanting to give that same gift to my children.

It's such a silly idea, and yet I can't get it out of my head. What would I do with a bunch of sheep? It's not like I'd benefit from them. It would mean extra work for me and extra money to pay for their feed and vet bills. What would I do with all that wool? And as far as eating lamb goes ...well, I sobbed through many a lambchop meal as a child.


Crazy as it sounds, for the past two weeks, I've been dreaming of owning a flock of sheep ... a small flock of just 6 or 7 sheep. It's a pipe-dream, I suppose, but perhaps one day it will become reality. Until then, I'm counting sheep when I sleep.