Beyond The Pasture

Beyond The Pasture

Earlene nibbled at the brown shoots of grass in the pasture.  It had been at least 90 degrees that day and she’d lost her appetite.  But each time she’d stop eating and wander away from the herd, 30 pairs of eyes would look up and stare at her.  All Earlene wanted to do was wander around and explore the pasture.  For as long as she could remember she and the others had eaten in this same spot.

Earlene had always been a rebel sheep.  Each spring the farmer came out with the clippers.  Donald the sheepdog would come yipping into the field.  The rest of the sheep would dutifully line up to be shorn of their wooly glory.  Not Earlene.

She knew what the farmer did with their wool.  He sold it.  Oh yes he did.  She had tried to rally the other sheep.  She tried to explain how the farmer got rich off them.  But no one would listen.

“Earlene, how can you say such things about Farmer George?” scolded her mother, Doreen.

“That’s right, Earlene.  Farmer George looks after us.  He feeds us and Donald protects us,” admonished her sister, Marlene.

So each spring while the other sheep were getting clipped Earlene roamed the pasture.  And at each pile of manure she would plop down and roll. And then she’d roll some more.  Until her soft, white wool had become brown.  Then she’d go and stand in line.  When it was finally her turn to be clipped, Farmer George would take one look at her and put down the clippers.

“Dick needs to look after this one,” he’d mutter to himself as he went in search of the head ranch hand.

Dick would finally appear and wave Earlene off.  He certainly wasn’t going to dirty his hands with this.

But it wasn’t just the sheep that Earlene tried to talk some sense into.  After all, they got off easy; all they lost were their coats.  So she’d wander by the pigpen and call the two pigs “Bacon” and “Sausage” (their real names were Anna Nichole and Paris), which caused them to stare at each other in beady-eyed confusion.  And poor Mabel the cow couldn’t for the life of her understand why Earlene kept asking her if “she came with fries.”

Earlene looked around at all the animals in the pasture.  Content.  Unknowing. How would she ever get them to believe they weren’t Farmer George’s pets?

The summer rolled by and soon it was October.  Earlene had wandered close to the barn and happened to overhear Farmer George talking to Dick.

“Hay prices are up $2.00 a bale, Dick.  And pork is down $3.00 a pound.”

“I guess that means herd reduction time, George.”

The next day a large white van pulled up to the barn.  On one side the words “Sal’s Homemade Deli Meats” was written in blue.  And on the other side was a picture of a pig in a tuxedo and top hat with the words “They’re Delicious!” coming out of his mouth.

Earlene gasped and ran towards the pigpen.  Anna and Paris were snuffling in their slop bucket.

“Run away, get away,” she bah’ed.

Anna Nichole looked up and smiled a chubby smile.

“Well yes, Earlene, Paris and I are going away.  But how did you know?”

“You know?”

“Of course we know, you silly sheep.  Donald told us this morning,” giggled Paris.  “He’s hot.”

“T-t-t-told you?”

Anna nodded, turning her body into one big jiggle.

“Yes, we’re the winners of the Pet Of The Month contest!  Paris and I are going to a spa!  We hear they have the most divine mud baths.”

“You’re not going to be massaged,” screamed Earlene.  “You’re going to be honey baked!

“WHAT!” cried the two pigs.

Earlene yanked up a mouthful of grass and began to munch.  “Think, Earlene, think,” she muttered to herself.

Scanning the pasture, she noticed Stanley the Steer in the corner, checking out two new cows.  Racing over, she tugged on his tail with her teeth.

“Stanley, you’ve got to help us.  Anna and Paris are about to become sandwich meat if we don’t act quickly.”  She whispered her plan in his ear and then rushed into the barn to round up the chickens.

“Monique, come quickly and bring all the girls.  We need your help!” pleaded Earlene.

Together Earlene and the chickens ran out to the truck with Monique screaming, “Viva Le Revolution!”

“Now Stanley, now!”

Stanley the Steer came barreling down the hill and just as he reached the truck, lowered his massive head.

POP! went the first tire.

POP! went the second one.

Then Monique and the chickens began tossing eggs at the windshield, covering the glass with thick yellow streaks.

Alerted by the sound of popping tires and cracking eggs, the men came running from the barn.

“What the heck?” bellowed Sal as he surveyed his truck.  “How am I supposed to drive with two flat tires?  Listen buddy, you told me this was gonna be an easy job and now look at this mess.  You owe me BIG TIME.”

“I don’t owe you nothing.  You owe me for those two pigs over there,” replied Farmer George, pointing at Anna and Paris.

“Are you out of your mind?  I’m not taking those pigs anywhere.  And you can be sure that no one else will ever come out here either.  I’m gonna make sure that everyone in this state knows to stay away from this crazy place.”

It wasn’t much longer after that that Farmer George sold the farm.  If he couldn’t make money, he wasn’t interested.  So instead he sold it to a young couple that loved all animals.  No longer did Earlene and her friends need to worry whether they'd see another sunrise.  And that day became the day that the animals were finally free from fear.