3/22/2016 Ray Tomlinson, Sheep Farmerby Fern and Phil Schaffer, Family (In Laws of Ray’s daughter, Suzanne)
The last time we saw Ray, he was working on the farm owned by Karen and him in Lincoln. Like the Pied Piper, he calmly walked among the sheep as they followed him, prancing, leaping and “mehing,” eager for the hay he was carrying to feed them. That day he was “Farmer Ray”, standing there in his tall rubber boots and wide brimmed straw hat. He was quietly enthusiastic and knowledgeable as he discussed farm issues like the electrified fencing system, and the importance of keeping the rams and ewes separated from the younger lambs. Phil and I were there to buy a lamb for slaughter, and Phil was determined to personally choose the lamb we would later consume. I generally avoided looking those cute Ouessant sheep in the eye, but when Phil said he wanted a lamb that was “fit, trim and muscular”, a vision of stringy, tough lamb stew swam before my eyes, and I knew I had to appeal to Ray for help. Casting an expert eye, he quickly picked a lamb, felt its belly and rib cage through its considerable fur coat, examining it with the practiced hand of a country vet, and pronounced it tender and meaty. Satisfied, we drove away that day, remarking that Ray seemed really happy with his life, and would fit into those tall rubber boots just fine. Comments are closed.
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