Sheep Number 36 Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Sheep number 36
I must say, I can't complain
About my living conditions
The master provides me with grass
And turnips if needed.

I have access to plenty fresh water,
And when my fleece is too thick
He arranges for my all over cut

I am up to date with all my vaccinations
He ensures I won't get foot rot

I am drenched, my tail is docked
My sons are castrated
(one less thing for a mother to worry about)

I am treated for mastitis, fly strike,
Ticks, lice, worms

Our ears are tagged,
The flock is dehorned or disbudded

Occasionally, friends or neighbours vanish,
If they have serious dental issues

They are taken away to be culled
I believe it's a permanent treatment

Sometimes he takes my 6 week old lambs away
He tells me this is because they're so tender
This makes me proud. They are the chosen ones

I am sheep number 36.
I am quite distinctive.
I have a twitch in my right eye

You will usually find me under the oak tree
Top right of the field,
Nearest to gate where the grass is tallest

None us lives past six years old
Though a collie once told us sheep can live to twelve
And one, reached twenty eight

But collies are terrible liars
And not to be trusted.

And anyway, we aren't clock watchers
We sheep live in the moment