Then the sheep dogs appeared. Black and white policemen. Slowly but with precision, they began to round up the individuals who were minding their own business eating hedges, snoozing in the shade or daydreaming about the greener grass in the next field. The circled and began to compress the sheep into a tight ball of stressed mutton, anxious and jittery. Then the flock was moved into the tightest space possible and held fast. The dogs patrolled and leapt upon mavericks or escapees. Then the dogs moved the whole flock to another corner, compressing them tightly, nipping at the stragglers and demanding complete obedience from the flock.
No more gentle chewing of the cud, no more snoozing in the shade. No more frolicking of lambs, happy to be alive. Panic. Terror. Compliance
A quick whistle and the dogs repeated the whole manoeuvre again. The thundering of anxious hooves, wide eyed with fear as the dogs tightly kettled the flock into another pointless ball of fear.
I asked the shepherd why he was instructing his dogs to perform these seemingly pointless exercises.
“I AM the government” was his response. “I do it to prove to myself and to prove to them all that I CAN do it” he said with a big smile.
We need to stop living in fields. Until we do, the shepherd will always want to show us who is boss, just because he can. Take to the forests and be free. I’m going free range.