The Meadow Lark

Jim and I were surprised to encounter a western meadowlark on the haystack on this last day of 2012. I’ve mixed feelings about the year we’re putting to bed – there has been so much sorrow for so many. So it is with joy that a meadowlark closes out the year, and sings in the new one.

From Paul Laurence Dunbar’s The Meadow Lark:

“Though the winds be dank,

And the sky be sober,

And the grieving Day


In a mantle gray


Hath let her waiting maiden robe her, --


All the fields along


I can hear the song


Of the meadow lark,

As she flits and flutters,

And laughs at the thunder when it mutters.

O happy bird, of heart most gay


To sing when skies are gray!”

We turned our rams out 10 days ago, but we spent today helping sort and load rams at Pete’s place. When we left the house, it was 22 below zero, but by the time we started work with the sun shining off bright-white snow, it had warmed to -8, perfect conditions. (Click on photos to enlarge.)

 Here's the crew - three of my favorite sheepmen: Dick Thoman, Pete Arambel and Jim Urbigkit.

 Pete sorting through the bucks. I laugh when people suggest that sheep are weak or defenseless. Makes me think they’ve never met range sheep. These rams are athletic and ready to rock.

The herding dogs were playful outside the corral, and a few horses came over to see what was happening.

May your 2013 be filled with beauty, and joy, and meadowlarks on gray days.