Matters of Life and Death

Yesterday a sheep died just outside my garden. It was the second time it had happened here, and it occurred in the same spot as before and at about the same time of year.

The first time was four years ago, when I found a lamb. It was a couple of months old and looked well-nourished, with no obvious reason apparent for dying. It lay looking as if it had just lain down for a moment; it cannot have been there for long, and I was struck by a great sense of peace, and also the whiteness of its coat. It was Easter Day, and I felt it was the Lamb of God.

It was a ewe this time, pregnant, and it may be she died trying to give birth alone. She lies by a dry stone wall that has been there for hundreds of years. It is a remote, ancient place full of ghosts and memories and Spirit. I visited her again today and her body is fresh still and undisturbed, and even though kites and ravens and other raptors are nesting nearby there has been no attempt to feed on her, which is unusual, for when an animal dies in the wild it leaves the gift of abundant nourishment for many. A little of her wool had been pulled out to line a nest, but that was all.

I feel honoured and blessed when any creature chooses to share a rite of passage in my environment, including life. Two years ago, again at Easter, a sheep somehow found its way under the fence (exactly where the lamb and the ewe chose to die, coincidentally) and gave birth to her lamb in the copse here. We found them minutes after the birth as the mother was cleaning her child and gently returned them to their field next door. They were frequent visitors for a while, and I wonder if perhaps it is one of them that returned for one last time.

Nature has wonderful ways of reminding us of the impermanence of all things, that nothing matters, and that life goes on forever - and at exactly the right time.