We moved to this farm a year ago. I had sworn I would never move again, but we moved anyway. Our sheep had outgrown our original place five minutes down the road. When this place popped up for sale, with 4 times as much space, it seemed like an opportunity, and the price was right. One of the many difficulties would be that the new place didn’t have a barn or adequate fencing. We got to work on the fencing immediately. We only made our neighbors angry a handful of times as the sheep did their work of showing us the spots in the fence that still needed attention. Before long, we were moved. Still no barn. Which brings us back to our job tonight. We were going to be “Catchin’ Sheeps.”

Maud was the name of one of the family mules that Paps held in very high esteem. The incredible feats of Paul Bunyan’s ‘Babe the Blue Ox’ paled in comparison to Pap’s stories about Maud. Maud was obedient. She responded to the quietest “Gee” and “Haw” and “Whoa, Maud.” Maud was a hard worker and would work for hours on end for the simple cost of a little oats or grass, a little kindness, and a good drink of water now and then. The pride Paps had in that mule – long dead by the time I arrived on the scene – rivaled the pride he showed for any grandchild. And Maud had earned that admiration.