http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/bighorn-sheep-rams-wyoming/

A small group of bighorn rams patrolled the edges of a massive field. The hardy, green grass had survived the worst of winter and now fed a variety of animals; a bison herd, a few adventurous cottontails, sinewy weasels and, almost unseen in the distance, pronghorns, the bighorns’ swift cousins. The well-populated meadow sat in a wide valley bordered on all sides by craggy, purple mountains.

“She’s worried her horns are coming in crooked,” Elder said.

Ulder wiggled his head and the enormous, curled horns that burst from it. “She’s worried about crooked horns?”

“It’s different for women. The horn thing, I mean.”

“Maybe, but that’s not our biggest concern right now,” Umber answered. “I honestly think they want to push a vote to go early.”

Elder & Ulder were two of their flock’s finest statesmen. They’d spent years negotiating with the representatives of the area’s other flocks and herds and, when absolutely necessary, the chaos of the prairie dog towns. They were well schooled, at least in matters of state.

“It’s a schedule thing,” Elder said.

“It’s not a schedule thing.”

“I’m telling you it is,” Elder insisted.

“They’re scared,” Ulder surmised. “They imagine some legendary, enormous wolf pack circling the whole meadow. It’s completely alarmist.”

Ember continued, oblivious to the topic change. “The horns start to come in, they grow maybe a little this way, a little that way, but it’s all according to the long-term schedule.”

Ulder sighed. “Your daughter’s a teenager, yes?”

“As uncomfortable as it makes me to admit she’s not my sweet little lamb anymore, yes. She’s a teenager.”

“And teenagers are, from what I understand, renowned for their ability to weight short-term setbacks against long-term goals, yes?”

Elder stamped the ground good-naturedly. “You’re being snide.”

“In a year, the horns will be entirely grown in, they’ll be straight and lovely, and with her image worries in her past, she’ll be a full-fledged adult.”

“Well I’m even less comfortable with that.” But Elder felt some of his worry ebb after his friend’s comforting reassurance.

The two rams followed the small patrol party around the grazing fields. Its vastness provided food for the area’s many vegetarian species. It also acted as a form of protection, as the flat land held little cover for the grey wolf packs that would make meals of unsuspecting herd animals.

For safety, the bighorn flocks sent representatives to watch the border. Given the size of the place, the patrol was only responsible for guarding the small corner of foothills where the bighorns grazed.  It was an open land, and the patrol could see far in every direction. There were not a lot of places for grey wolves to hide. But somehow, that was so rarely a deterrent for the packs.

“Listen, we can’t afford to start a firestorm on this thing.” Ulder wasn’t done making his point.

“I agree,” Elder said. “But I don’t think her mother’s going to let me lock her up somewhere the fighting-age males can’t find her.”

Ulder sighed. “What the hell?”

“You were talking about the other th-” Elder started.

“The other flocks want to migrate up the mountain three weeks early.”

The ram patrol stopped to inspect suspicious tracks. An expert was brought forward, and he confirmed it was safe. Bobcat tracks from a few days ago. She would be long gone by now.

“They want to call a vote to head up into the mountains now?” Elder asked.

“Yes.”

“To avoid the phantom wolf pack that they imagine is, at this very moment, massing under some cloak of invisibility at our very border?”

Ulder snorted at the absurdity of the panicked logic of the masses. “Basically.”

“These wolves… do they eat young rams that might, in future months, be interested in entering the dating pool?”

“In addition to eating ewes, and you, sure,” Ulder replied.

Elder nodded and pondered. “Can I live with that?”

“By definition, you cannot.”

The patrol resumed. It curled back around, heading back away from the nearest mountain. On a relatively flat stretch, a group of seven or eight young rams took turns running at each other at full speed. Heads lowered, two would plow into each other at full speed, and a great crack would ring out across the meadow.

“Then I suppose we need a plan,” Elder said.

“We do, so you can imagine why I asked one of the flock’s best statesmen to join today’s patrol to talk about it.”

“Well yes, I can,” Elder said, puffing out his chest a little.

“But since he was busy, let’s you & I come up with a plan.”

In the little cut below where the flock ate, a few distressed whines rattled out from the lambs. Mothers trotted over to tend to them, but it put the patrol on edge. They sniffed and scanned, though nothing presented itself. Spooked by the fighting bachelors, no doubt.

Veterans of many winters, both Ulder and Elder looked toward the other animals. None showed any sign of concern. They sniffed, but nothing remotely canine tinted the air. Whatever had spooked the lambs wasn’t a grave concern. At least, not to the safety of the flocks.

“What is the plan as it stands now?” Elder asked.

Ulder shrugged, an awkward movement that made his head drop more than it lifted his shoulders. “Feed the crazies to the wolves.”

“That feels counter-productive.”

Ulder nodded. “Ok. My next thought is to avoid a vote entirely.”

“Any idea how to enforce that?” Elder asked, his tone genuine, but he knew it was a doomed idea. Ulder knew too, but he needed to talk it out.

“I was thinking maybe we could make it snow. To show the folly of going up in elevation before it’s really time.”

“Ok, well that doesn’t seem verily likely,” Elder noted.

“No,” Ulder conceded.

“So there’s going to be a vote.”

“There is, and we’ve got to make it a resounding no.”

“Why not a simple explanation the best course?” Elder offered. “We point out that running to the hills early to avoid the unlikely prospect of us getting eaten by wolves leads us into stony hills where it’s very likely there is not yet any food for us to eat.”

“Somehow, I think the hysterical crowd won’t appreciate the irony.” Ulder spoke quietly as he felt his mind start to turn over the problem. There was a solution right at the tip of his horns.

“Pity.”

Ulder snorted. “Hang on.” And then he had it.

“What?”

“Crooked horns.”

Elder shook his head. “Well I know they’re coming in crooked, but I think it’ll only make things worse if I say so.”

“No, I’m saying, that’s our solution.” Ulder stomped the ground in excitement. “The bachelor rams. Instead of them knocking each other’s heads in for the next few weeks-”

“Barbaric. There was more subtlety to it on our day,” Elder interjected.

Ulder ventured on without pause. “We send them up. Organize a full flock out of all the young, unattached rams, maybe with a willing veteran or two, and send them to scout it out. A week up, a week back. All to tell us there’s no food on the higher slopes yet.”

“It’s good,” Elder admitted. “Though it does layer in the irony, as it would make them, and us, more vulnerable if a pack does, in fact, show up.”

“Only vaguely. The packs try to single out the weak and slow. The bison & pronghorns have more bodies in the meadow and more elderly in their ranks. I know it’s a dark thought, but I think they both prove tastier targets than us.”

Elder fell quiet for a time, turning over the plan in his mind. The patrol was almost done its required circuit. Once again, they would return to the grazing fields with reassurances that all was well. Elder had brought that same information three times in the last two days, and still he knew it would fall on deaf ears.

Finally, he spoke. “How much work is it going to be to pitch this to the other flock leaders?”

Ulder shook his head. “Haven’t the foggiest. I’ll find out. You go round up the rough-and-tumble sect and tell them there’s adventure afoot.”

“Well, a-hoof.” Elder grinned.

The last of their walk back came in pleasant silence. They had shared similar moments that felt similar. It felt good to solve problems together, like winter thawing at the dawn of a new spring. Like their horns growing after a long year. And it didn’t matter at all if it came together a little crooked.