The Sheep at Scalpay
This piece describes a wildlife encounter from an alternative perspective and was longlisted for the Yeovil Literary Fiction Prize in 2021.
Multi-coloured tentacles entrap me. The more I struggle, the tighter his grip. I’m locked in battle. Wrestling me to the ground, I jerk my head back and forth, trying to release his grasp. This duel is relentless. Still, he clings on, coiled like a constrictor around my horns. Pulling. Yanking. Twisting. A formidable opponent.
The sun drops in the sky like a stone falling into the sea. Stars from the tower blink on the rocks in the darkness. The claw of the crescent moon shines above me. Waves are lapping the boulders beneath me, and I know the water is perilously close. Dropping to my knees, I remain there all night. Quivering. Shivering. Shaking. Fibrous fingers hold me fast and firm.
The fiery eye peers over the edge of the sea once more. Black turns to blue, and the warmth wakes the flowers and the bees. The flock have deserted me, and I am now alone with my adversary. Eyes bulging, my heart races. Brawling with him again, my efforts are more frantic, more urgent. I can’t beat him off.
The pasture is sumptuous here, but I have eaten all that is within my limited reach. Tugging. He won’t let go. I only wanted that tasty tuft of grass. Trapped. My mouth is dry. Every muscle aches. Trembling. Quaking. Getting desperate now. How am I going to escape?
A man and woman climb up the hill towards me. They get closer and closer. Bucking and thrashing, I try to get away from them. Entangled, I can’t run.
“Stupid sheep. It’s caught in a fishing net.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Leave it.”
“We can’t leave it. It’ll starve and die.”
The man walks towards me. I tense every sinew in my body. Can’t he see I’m weak and worn out? He comes nearer. I kick my legs to keep him away.
“Hold still for Christ’s sake. I’m trying to help, you stupid sheep!”
He jumps on my back, straddling me like a horse. My body stiffens. Bleating and flailing, I try with all my might to unseat him. Fighting two foes, I need all of my strength. The man’s legs are like a clamp around my body. The three of us are wrestling each other. I’m weak, I’m spent, but I keep grappling. His sweat drips from his forehead on to my wool. He is panting. So am I.
The woman watches with her mouth wide open.
My energy is waning, but I persist in pursuit of victory. Finally, I conquer both assailants. The web untangles, falling to the ground, and I hurl the man off my back. The fight is over. Triumphant! At last, I am free.
The man bends over with his hands on his knees. He cannot speak. His chest heaving, breathing heavily.
The woman gathers up the tendrilled creature.
I take a few steps towards the beacon of brightness, away from the battlefield. Looking out to sea, I spot a mother otter and her two cubs frolicking in the water, bobbing like corks. Oblivious to my near death.
The couple follow my gaze.
“Look! Otters!”
“Wow!”
“We’ve waited years for this!”
They both wear a huge smile.
I turn away and fall to my knees, guzzling the fresh new shoots.
