She was laying on a mound of hay in the warm sun, four sisters standing by. When we called “Hellooo Ladies” she didn’t lift her head.  It won’t be long now. He went to the back of his truck to fill a blue bucket with some cracked corn. It was her favorite. I stayed in the driveway with Fergus. We were on our way for a morning walk between the woods and the hay field. The path was still patchy with ice. He was on his way down the hill with the bucket. We watched.  He neared the old dying ewe, approaching slowly, and lowered the bucket to her mouth. Later he told me that she put her nose into the corn, elated as always, chewed twice and died. Snickers was always the first one out of the barn, calling with that brassy loud BAAHH that she got from her grandmother, Queenie. She had been a fine mother of twins, and twins, and then triplets. We had seen the shepherd bend on one knee and tenderly touch her goodbye. The spring sky was azure. Robins had arrived just that morning. It was a good day to die.