As I am soon returning to New Zealand I felt it time to start a discussion about one of my favourite topics: Sheep. Fluffy, cute, tender when chewed..what's not to love. We count them so we can go to sleep, we grew up watching them in our favourite television shows (okay well in particular one, Lambchops. I know you now all have the theme song stuck in your head..) and we sing about them in our favourite nursery rhymes. Poor Mary had a little stalker.
I guess it can be argued that sheep are not so much a topic as a favourite pasttime. Returning to New Zealand, I look forward to basking in the sun counting my endless supply of ewes. But let me relay to you the disappointment I experienced when I first traveled halfway around the world to the land of unlimited sheep and the lesson which I have since taken away....
As you may or may not know, the ratio of sheep to people in New Zealand is 10:1. That is right, TEN sheep PER person. People population: 4 million. Sheep population: 40 million. Upon arriving at customs, I demanded my ten sheep to maintain the proper ratio. I was denied my request and instead fined two hundred dollars for having an apple in my possession.
Fine, that second part is not true. However, it did happen to a good friend of mine. Despite all the signs and warnings (including on our immigration cards) that foreign fruits were CONTRABAND, she somehow managed to 'forget' that she had an apple in her bag. Apple-less and two hundred dollars later, she was allowed to enter the magnificent Aoteoroa- The Land of the Long White Cloud. I on the other hand, had worn my dirtiest pair of white shoes. My aunt had told me that to prevent the spreading of foreign contaminants, they wash your shoes.
I entered New Zealand sheepless and with a pair of filthy sneakers.
Stepping out of the airport into Auckland, New Zealand I awaited what should have been sheep haven. I had pictured flocks of them blocking traffic, or laying splayed on the side of the road basking in all their glory. I pictured sheep herding MEN, what with such a ridiculous ratio. The squirrels of America (hopefully with a bit less roadkill). As I took in all the sights and sounds of the city, to my dismay...not a single sheep was to be spotted. No mayhem, no mischief. Not even a man with ten sheep to greet me upon my arrival. Sheer disappointment. Heavy hearted and feeling slightly misled, I decided perhaps better prospects awaited me in Wellington, my future home. I flew to Wellington, and with high hopes at witnessing the rumbling hills surrounding the city, knew I would finally find what I'd been sheeping..uh..searching for.
Let me tell you. For a country who supposedly is overrun by its mutton I once again felt nothing but utter dismay at what I encountered. Not a SINGLE sheep. How absurd. I felt cheated. I had dreamed of collecting all the abandoned, lonely ones from the side of the road in Wellington to create my own petting zoo/nursery (I feel my residence may have been slightly unhappy with this). I was going to be the Mother Teresa of the flock kingdom. I was going to change the world one adopted sheep at a time!
In fact, it wasn't until a month later, when I went on a car ride about 10 kilometres outside the city, that I finally stumbled upon my first Kiwi clan. Sheep started popping up on every hillside, at every turn, on every corner. I turned to my friend and stated, "THIS is how I pictured New Zealand! Why have I not seen a sheep before now??", to which my friend replied, with clear conviction in her voice, "Kallan, there are no sheep in the cities! That'd be silly" I felt sheepish..I should have known that.
So lo and behold, imagine to my surprise when recently, an article surfaced on Stuff, New Zealand's online news source. "Sheep runs wild in Wellington streets" (http://www.stuff.co.nz/oddstuff/5294966/Sheep-runs-wild-in-Wellington-streets). HA! Somehow I'd missed this moment myself, but hearing about it was enough. Like a prisoner apprehended for his crime, the roaming animal was captured, cuffed and taken to jail (No joke, read said article). The offender's statement was not included in the piece. Which brings me to my almost final point; think of sheep on a farm like mormans in a segregated community; sooner or later, one of them is bound to want to experience a little bit more of what life has to offer.
My closest encounter with one of the fourty million happened while driving on a dusty, windy road to Queenstown. While chatting with Martha, I all of a sudden shrieked as she slammed on the brakes. The most beautiful ewe, with a matted mane of golden locks, had somehow blended into the yellow road that led us to the city. She did not move, but instead stared deep into my eyes. As our gazes interlocked, I understood. Were it possible, our fingers would have entwined in some sort of silent agreement. Freedom. Sheep are not meant for petting zoos, or for lamb stew, or even for plush coats. They want to live their life in peace, just like us. Our eyes connected only for a second, but in that moment I gave up my dream. These beautiful animals co-exist in this world just as we do. What they choose to do with this freedom is up to them, be it lazing in a field of grass or wanting to take a walk alongside the Wellington Waterfront.
"Run free my friend" I whispered. And then, we drove off.
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