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We call him Dodge, not Hemi
Friday July 25 2008 By Ted Brown, Staff Writer In the continuing saga of building a flock of sheep, last weekend opened another chapter.
We got a ram.
Now having a ram (a ‘daddy’ sheep for those who don’t know the lingo) is of paramount importance when starting up a flock of sheep.
His gene pool is the most dominant part of the future of the flock and every lamb born the following year will bear his traits.
So it’s a good idea to get a good ’un when you got out shopping for a ram.
The Sidekick and I found a mighty fine specimen, with lots of good breeding and pedigree behind him, and he looks mighty virile to boot. (The Sidekick mentioned that part... I think she might have peeked.)
We named him ‘Dodge’. Get it? Dodge Ram?
(Take note Paul Auty of Georgetown Chrysler I now have a Dodge on the property.)
I considered calling him ‘Hemi,’ but was afraid he’d consume too much hay with that name.
He has a real name, comprised of a bunch of letters and numbers on his pedigree, but we christened him Dodge to be a bit more informal.
We arranged to have him delivered Saturday, and had the ‘ram bachelor pad’ all ready for him, with fresh bedding and a new feed box. I assigned him to a box stall with really high walls, so he couldn’t jump out to go visit the ‘girls’ (ewes) on the other side of the barn.
Saturday, Dodge rode into the Brown farm in a trailer, taking in all the sights of his new home, as he let out the occasional deep-throated ‘baaaa’, in acknowledgement of his new digs.
Once in the ram bachelor pad, he circled the perimeter and checked out every nook and cranny of the pen, from one end to the other.
He tried to jump out a couple times, testing the walls, but had no luck— they were simply too high. Once in the pen with water and hay on hand, Dodge appeared well settled.
Wrong.
About 90 minutes later, as I worked in another part of the barn within eyesight of his pen, I heard Dodge make one more try at jumping out.
This time was different. His head popped up over the gate, then he went back down, letting out a groan. As I went to investigate, my gut knotted up.
Poor Dodge stood there trembling, on three legs, and the pain was written all over his face.
His front leg was crooked— it looked broken.
I immediately called Dr. Bob, the vet, who was there in 45 minutes. An examination confirmed my gut feeling. Dodge’s front leg was broken.
The good news was it was a clean break, and Dr. Bob figured it would heal with a  cast.
With The Sidekick and me holding him still, Dr. Bob set Dodge’s front leg in a nice white cast.  I must say, Dodge didn’t look quite as virile later that night. In fact, he looked pretty defeated.
I felt so sorry for the poor little guy.
The next morning, he was better, and over the next couple of days, he came ahead. He’s now quite perky, happily roaming around the bachelor pad, with a great appetite and lots of spunk.
And in eight weeks, he has an appointment with Dr. Bob to have the cast removed. Dr. Bob figures Dodge will need three or four weeks to get his leg limbered up, and after that, he should be pretty much back to normal.
With luck, I figure Dodge will be fully on-track by mid-October, which is a good thing.
’Cuz ya know, later this fall, he has a date.
It’s a month-long date with a bunch of young ladies, who live in the bigger pen, on the other side of the barn.

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