I feel like the grandma in that stupid Christmas song, "Grandma got run over by a reindeer ..."
I went to the barn this morning, per usual, and also per usual, went about the business of feeding the critters anxiously awaiting breakfast. As I entered the last pen of sheep, imagine my shock when one of the ewes bolted right at my chest, knocking me kler-plewie ... flat on my back. Whoa! What was THAT for?!?!
(oh, yeah ... yesterday some of the lambs were taken from their moms -- and hers were among them ... mind you, I was not the one who took the young'uns, but she IS a sheep, after all, and they're not exactly known for their smarts)
Well, due to the complete unexpected nature of the event, I yelled something ... which started a chain of events which I (surprisingly enough, but thankfullly) lived to regret. My yelling upset my constant companion and protector Tuck (my Border Collie). He came dashing into the pen to come to my aid, but instead got the sheep all in a lather. They ALL started jumping around and hurling themselves at anything they could find (me, always me). No kidding -- they took turns flailing about, jumping on my head, my legs, my body, back to the head. All the while, I could not manage to get to my feet for all the flying wool-covered appendages battering me head to toe. Literally!
I finally realized that if they were ever to calm down, I'd have to convince the dog I would do okay without his help. Right. He thinks he has to help me with everything. But he followed my command to "get OUT of here" and I was able to stumble to my feet.
Stunned. Totally stunned. I'd never been the victim of a stampede before. I'm a little sore today. When I related this sad tale to my DH, he couldn't even manage to contain his hilarity long enough for me to turn my back. Tsk!