Less than half an hour spread between Craig poking his head out of the barn door with news of supposed labor and Gus screaming through the house, MOM. Dad says there is a lamb coming out NOW. And then there was Bunny. All black save for those spotted ears Bunny. Born on Easter Sunday, a singleton to a mama whose roundness suggested otherwise, a ram. The labor and birth were unremarkable and the shepherdess rejoiced. The mother whose faith never wavered chose not to waste her time on floating prayers and thank yous into the ether; instead she promptly drank, ate, cleaned, nursed. Practicalities over wonderment. A sentiment shared by my Partner in Sheep, Etc. who asked over the barely dry lamb what it was we planned to do with him. I wondered aloud if we might wait to sort that out as nothing seems more discourteous than discussing the fate of a ram on the day of his birth. I've since been allowed to move through the days as if we can keep and name all of spring's small creatures. A small mercy of the homestead and husband.