The Bachelors

• Published in: The New York times
• Main Author: Trego, William D
• Format: Newspaper Article
• Language: English
• Published: New York, N.Y New York Times Company 06.02.2005
• Edition: Late Edition (East Coast)
• Subjects: Farms; Rural areas; Sheep; Somerset Hills New Jersey
• ISSN: 0362-4331

So aside from these scattered residential and agricultural structures, many of which have returned to the good earth with only remnants of early stone foundations remaining, I sit here with my rams looking out over land that is relatively untouched, plowed on occasion, partly clear-cut, currently planted with fruit trees, but never really fully civilized. From the game trails, I imagine Indian paths running parallel to ridge lines, always with a view of flowing water down below in the valleys. It is very wild and quiet here, and the sight of a half-eaten, frozen deer carcass along the trail makes it quite easy to make the leap in imagination of a few hundred years. Local Indians lived, hunted and perished on this very land, by these rocks and by these trees -- same place, just another time. With no pedigrees, or worries about being acceptable to the right group of ewes, or pleasing a critical owner, my young rams are out to have fun. They are puerile and puckish -- and proud of it. We play games together, and they play their own games without me. These latter generally consist of variations on the theme of head-butting. This can occur instantly, at any time, with simple proximity, I've noticed, being the probable precipitator. They will crack their heads together with a thud that reverberates throughout the barn. Other times, one will duck at the last second causing the other charger to miss. The full broadside blow is the most effective, though this only succeeds through stealth. Caught unaware, a receiver of this is generally knocked over. There seem to be no hard feelings; these activities do seem democratic with all being victims at one time or another. This curious, impish head-butting, is an impulse seemingly impelled from some distant inner source, some ancestral repetition of movement, and they refuse to tell me why this behavior is so appealing to them. It is their little secret.