The end of the road

Today's the day.

We watched them being born into the March and April weather, by icy night and gale-swept day, their mothers patiently waiting, straining, a curl of lip the only sign of discomfort. We watched them being licked clean, the tottering, out of control legs, the frantic search and thrust for mother's life on mother earth.

We saw their banding, in the gloaming, into soft rubber snowball groups, butting and running and leaping and playing I'm The King of the Castle around that rocky outcrop but always re-finding , afterwards, she who had borne them.

But now they're on their own, cropping incessantly, it seems growing sturdier and rounder every day. And today is the day. Any minute now that slat-sided wagon will be here to take them away. To somewhere: Sunday lunch at The Ritz?

9 September 2008

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