An Army of Rams

I could feel someone watching me.

I had just sat myself down in the first bench I could find along this path. There were two more to my right. I sat right down and set to jiggling my leg up and down up and down up and down. I kept looking around the trees in front of me. The forest path sign had mentioned that all the tree species in this part of the state were represented along this path. That it was some sort of eden for trees.

I couldn’t tell. I had other problems. I had left my phone at home for the first time in years and was still trying to decide whether that had been a good or bad decision.

Reasons why it was a bad decision:

• I could have made some progress on researching places for dinner.

• I could have started editing some of the photos I was planning to post soon.

• I could have double-checked the train timetable for the trip I was taking next Friday.

• I could have asked my husband what he was having for lunch without me.

Reasons why it was a good decision:

• I guess I could disconnect.

So I had been sitting for a minute, maybe two minutes, when I began feeling the eyes. Look, you get people looking at you all the time on the streets. You get used to feeling that slimy, hot pressure feeling.

But this was different. What I mean is that I really felt these eyes. There was this coolness and closeness on my jawline and up my cheek. It could have been a light breeze, blowing through the trees in the forest, if I tried hard to convince myself of it. Or it could have been someone very, very close to me. Close enough to drag their eyelashes across my face, just outside my peripheral vision.

Something was there, right next to me. They were there.

I stayed perfectly skill and counted down in my head. Three. Two. One.

On zero, I twisted my neck in a snap to the right. I did it so fast, with so much adrenaline that my hair flew around my head and I accidentally bit down sharply on my tongue.

Of course, there was nothing immediately next to me. There was no one standing and rubbing their eyelashes on my body. But… the bench that had been immediately to my right had moved. Or rather, it wasn’t there at all.

In its place were six snowy rams. Rams. White and gray. All staring silently at me.

Now, I had seen livestock before. I had seen sheep through car windows and train windows and even plane windows. All sorts of windows had been the link connecting me and the sheep. They’d usually turn their butts at me. Those sheep were big, round, fluffy, and deeply boring. But a male sheep—that’s what it means to have those curly horns right?—they looked different. I don’t think I had seen a ram in real life. Maybe in those motivational pictures or on a nature documentary.

But these were definitely not normal sheep. Not lady sheep. These ones did have those long horns, curling in and around themselves. It was sort of what I imagined happened to your nails if you let them grow out really really really far.. But the rams’ entire physique was different than what I had seen on sheep before. Rather than short and lumpy, these seemed built for power. They had barrel-shaped bodies on sturdy, surprisingly tall legs. They had small humps just behind their necks. I could see veins standing out on their legs.

The rams all stared at me with their barbell pupils., facing me directly. I didn’t move. The rams didn’t move either.

Had they been here all along? No, that was stupid. Stupid. Stupid! I had spent 20 minutes trying to find this spot. I was in a forest for god’s sake! I had had to take the trail inward and along loads of windy paths until I found this quiet area. There’s no way I wouldn’t have noticed them. But… maybe I was too distracted? Maybe I was too focused on getting a spot that I somehow missed this group of rams right next to me?

What do you even call a group of rams anyway? A flock? That seemed too soft. One glance at the six rams made it clear that they could do some serious damage. Not flock. Something more intense. A herd? No. A battalion? Too much. An army? An army of ram? That was great. The whole word ram was in army. Let’s go with army.

Then again, it was odd to see them in a group. Weren’t male rams supposed to be territorial and solitary? Didn’t they climb up mountains and stuff? Or was that a goat?

I could smell them. They didn’t smell bad at all. It wasn’t even the smell of manure you’d expect when visiting a stables. It was a smell of spiced thickness in the air. They really were right there.

I blinked a few more times. They didn’t disappear. Or move. I focused on each ram in turn. They were all a little distinct, some with black faces, some with tufts of wool, others with gray faces and nappy wool. I moved my head and hands a little bit. I cleared my throat. No reaction.

Wait… could they be fake somehow? Cardboard cutout rams that had been placed here silently by little prankster rodents in the forest? I looked close and noticed, from time to time, the rams flicking their ears to ward off a fly or two. Nope, they were definitely real.

What was I doing here with an army of rams? Did I really need to come into the forest to find a bit of peace and quiet? Why did I need to leave my own home to get some space to think? I placed my hands on the bench and clenched my fists. My mind was just so busy. So many things to do, so many things to worry about, and I was just always feeling under water. I hated that feeling. It made me want to run away, climb a mountain somewhere, and scream out my stress from the top of it. Maybe that’s what these rams would do. Climb up mountains, let out their stress, and then climb back down again.

I looked down at myself and back at the rams. Still no movement. I studied them some more. They were beautiful creatures. They held themselves professionally, like a royal guard. I noticed too that they were standing in a small arrow formation.

I rotated myself to look at them more directly, setting my backpack on my left.

And right then, for the first time, the rams reacted. They kept staring at me. Direct and firm. Assertive. But now, they very slowly and intentionally began splitting apart, leaving a space right down the middle, like the pages of a wooly book parting.

And now I saw something new. They had been hiding someone. Protecting someone. A small ram lamb was in the back. He had very small horns. They curved very slightly behind his head, but not anywhere close to the extensive curvature of the elder generation. A ram teen? Lamb ram? Ramlet? Ramlet.

This ramlet stepped forward between the rest of the rams. His eyes, like the others, were trained on me. He came closer.

I felt my leg start to jiggle uncontrollably again. Should I leave? Would it… attack? No, that was dumb. This was a ramlet. The others hadn’t hurt me. Why would this one? Maybe it would take direction from its superiors, like dogs. They were chill, so it should be chill too. Right?

Oh boy, it might be a ramlet, but it was still pretty big. It grew fast.

I took a couple deep breaths and settled myself. I made eye contact with the approaching ramlet and just focused on its yellow eyes. As it approached, the rest of the army joined up behind it, falling into a queue formation.

The ramlet had already been close, and now it was face to face with me. I didn’t break eye contact. The other rams approached too. The ramlet seemed to be smiling at me. No, that’s wrong. It couldn’t smile. But its look, its attitude, its aura was one of relaxed, quiet energy. It was sure-footed and confident. Maybe being raised in this mob of uncles gave it something special. It made me calm down a little. I saw the breeze ruffling its wool and smiled.

I broke eye contact and looked at the other rams. They had surrounded me now, here on my bench. The ramlet was right in front of me, and the other were spread out wherever they could fit. But I didn’t feel concerned. I felt the breeze blowing through my hair now. I felt the warmth of the sun on my skin.

I spread out my arms along the sides of the bench while the army of rams watched. I leaned back and exhaled softly. I looked over the rams again. They were close, warm, and serene. I no longer cared where they had come from or what they were doing.

Then, there was movement.

The ramlet put his head down. He slowly—very slowly, very carefully—came even closer. His head made contact with me in the belly.

I let him do it. It wasn’t aggressive. It was a quiet thing. A gentle thing.

He stepped back, looked up at me afterward, and I sensed that little grin-not-grin again. The other rams now all started lowering their heads. None of them moved quickly, all of them moved methodically. They each dropped their heads, and then, one step at a time, gently pressed their heads against whichever part of my body was closest. My arms, my calves, my torso.

Each headbutt was a little touch, a soft pressure, some warmth, and sometimes the rough solidity of a horn, and then a release.

They all headbutted me quietly and then all stood back. I made eye contact with each of them in turn.

Then, led by the ramlet, they turned to the right and all walked down the path. No jostling, no running, just a slow amble. None of them looked back at me. They continued down the path, and I watched them until the turned around the bend.

I exhaled again, long and loud. I turned my body and laid down on the bench, using my backpack as a pillow. I looked up at the sun dappling on the leaves of the trees above me.

I smiled, closed my eyes, and went to sleep.