A Matter of Interpretation

My 2026 planner is in my possession, friends. Thank you to those who have expressed concern. I appreciate you.

This kind group includes my sister-in-law. I saw her Sunday for the first time in weeks. Holidays have happened, she’s traveled, there have been Events, and yet what was one of the first things out of her mouth? “DO YOU HAVE YOUR PLANNER YET?”

I love her.

Big Truth

This week, I have learned a fundamental lesson. It’s so simple, and yet it’s completely shifting the way I’m thinking about a large piece of life. Are you ready for this truth bomb I’m about to lay on you?

Here you go:

A ram is not a dog.

Here’s what I’ve realized: when we interpret general animal behavior, we often default to viewing it through dog-influenced lenses. An animal approaches you? It must be feeling friendly. It nuzzles your hand? Same. It gazes sweetly into your eyes? It must be love. It comes running toward you at full speed? It’s missed you and is so happy to see you again.

Well, if it’s Maewyn or Zoey, it may be true, or you may have a cheeseburger stuffed in your pocket.

If it’s an intact ram, I’ve learned that those are all signs that your woolly friend may be testing dominance boundaries and considering what it might be like to pound you into next Tuesday.

Mr. Bingley was not climbing the gate door because he adores me and is happy to see me. He was doing this to make himself taller, reducing my height advantage (please stop snickering that I actually used that phrase referring to my 5’2″ self).

He was not rubbing up against my legs because he was showing affection. He was seeing if he can dominate space.

Because he’s a ram, and I’m learning that intact rams have two jobs. Job one is to make more sheep. Job two is to control all the space in all the world.

He was not gobbling food from my hand because he loves and trusts me. He IS comfortable with me, but comfortable in the same way a bully is comfortable around his favorite target when he’s demanding lunch money.

I’m a patsy.

Truth be told, this is accurate where the dogs are concerned. I say I’m the mean one who holds the line while Greg is the softy, but I’m not sure anyone who lives here believes that. The difference is that neither of the dogs is likely to pound me into powder.

Our cute little Mr. Bingley rammed someone last week. He’s small, he’s cute, he’s entertaining to watch (especially when he gets the zoomies!), but he’s also dangerous.

In my reading and learning, I see over and over the advice to “never turn your back on a ram” and “never trust a ram.” Hormones are rough. Anyone who has endured puberty can attest to this. In sheep, the rams seem to show this most visibly.

I’m learning that when Mr. Bingley is at his very best, when he is most secure in his world, he’ll actually calmly move away from me, giving me space and not reacting. So undoglike.

Even the ewes are not going to show dog behavior. Ewes are going to show us they’re happy and comfortable by acting like we’re not there. They will graze, heads down, unthreatened, in a perfect display of Zen-like chill. Nothing to see here, folks. We’re just eating grass. Chewing cud. Gestating.

The highest compliment the ewes will give is permission to exist peacefully within the flock. I kind of love that.

Separation anxiety

Last night we put Bingley in a separate stall.

Having completed (we think) his first job, his drive to dominate space is now a negative factor for pregnant ewes. He’s not very chill, and they’d like some peace and quiet in the maternity ward.

He will never stop trying to control all the space in his world while he still has hormones to endure, so our job is to make his world manageable for him and for the humans that care for him.

His new quarters are in the same barn as his ladies, with an empty stall between them. He can hear and smell them, but he can’t mess with them. He’s still got his herd, but he doesn’t need to dominate them and the hormones all have some buffering space.

The girls hardly seem to notice, but Bingley sure did last night. Loudly.

He has fresh water, lots of hay, clean bedding, loose minerals, and plenty of room in a cozy barn, with his herd nearby. Information sources tell me this is exactly what he needs and that he will settle down and settle in, content in his new setup. The constraints will be comforting. That’s what the experts say.

Mr. Bingley says other things. And while I’m learning how to better interpret his behavior, I haven’t begun to crack the code on language.

Greg’s Got Questions

Thank you to those of you who participated in the poll last week!

The winning question was: If I follow your logic from your statement, “a Beast to Blanket booth really needed a blanket”, are you considering taking a Beast with us to the conventions?

Tempting, but no. Just you and me, babe. And maybe a stuffed animal sheep or two.

We might like to be allowed back subsequent years, and I just don’t think the cute factor is going to be enough to outweigh the less attractive aspects of housing sheep in a vendor hall at a convention for several days.

Plus, I think Bingley might make for a bossy backseat driver.

Greg’s Questions for This Week:

Here are the questions up for the vote this week. I’ll answer the winner in the next newsletter. (As a matter of procedure, the poll function takes you to another page to submit your vote, so if that happens to you, you’re on the right track!)

Question 1: For those readers who have the question I needed you to confirm to me, “What exactly is an ‘intact’ ram?”. I had a suspicion that you confirmed but haven’t heard that term before. Is that used for all livestock or just sheep?

Question 2: Your thoughts have my mental wheels going for an upcoming issue of my newsletter. I’m considering writing about how our sometimes-incorrect views of people based on our assumptions or misinformation impact how we interact with and lead others. Do you see that parallel you observed with sheep and dogs in our human relationships too?

Question 3: On a scale of 1 to 10, just how hard is it for you to stop cuddling up with Mr. Bingley and keep your distance, especially when he’s giving us that sad, pathetic baaaaaaaaaaaaaaa? For me, it’s about a 17.

Happy knitting,

Kiersten J